No mechanical incidents. Brakes worked. Fenders didn't clatter. Wheel didn't explode in a fiery explosion. So, all that stuff was good.
Sucked in some bus fumes riding down Massachusetts. The WTOP ad on the back of the bus asked "UC Trfk?" IC Bus. Riding behind a bus is an interesting kind of challenge I don't especially enjoy. I tend to ride with a bigger gap than I would when riding behind a non-bus. This is on account of not being able to see what's in front of the bus. This is why I support transparent buses.
First time on Q Street in a couple of weeks. It was as fun as I remembered. I turned left onto Connecticut and briefly met up with the Official Wife, who was meeting up with some friends, and then I continued on my way to S Street. Now, I've always known in theory that there is an S Street, but I can't recall a time that I've ever actually been on S Street, much less while on a bicycle. There is no bike lane. The street is narrow enough for two lanes of car traffic. Equally, it'd wide enough for like 5 lanes of bike traffic, but I can't ever recall seeing a street designed for 5 lanes of bike traffic. Maybe you could get this to happen if you got some Toole guys really wasted. The thing I think about riding on a narrowish street without bike lanes is, to make an almost apt sports metaphor, play zone defense. Worry about the space and not the opposing players. Dictate where they go based on where you are. This might even work.
I turned right onto 15th and left on to Q Street, taking that past 11th, past 7th, and to Florida Avenue, where I saw a number of bicycle officers on patrol or on some kind of training ride. They didn't say anything to any of the drivers blocking the crosswalk. They did suggest to a homeless man that he get out of the street and stop bothering drivers.
My pannier became detached no fewer than three and no more than five times during my rain and it banged around and made banging noises, reminiscent of clanging sounds that you might recognize from the time your pannier kept smacking into your rear rack and tire. This is not a normal thing.
I rode past a car whose passengers were very fond of the word "mother." It was every third word they said. Of course, every fourth word they said was "fucker," so there's that. They said as much to an indignant indigent at the intersection of 6th and M NE, who said as much back to them. AWKWARD.
I stopped for burritos at Chinito's Burritos. They make excellent burritos. And a really excellent, really scorching hot sauce.
I took Florida to 9th, past the still active crime scene of an earlier shooting, toom 9th to I Street to 13th to Constitution to 14th to A to home, where I consumed the aforementioned burrito and the aforementioned hot sauce, which burned the not yet mentioned roof of my mouth.