Meanwhile, problems with parking mean I'm not going to be able to ride my motorcycle in to work in the forseeable future. A fellow rider narrowly saved my bike from being towed by his boss; and until the construction behind the building is finished excavating the place where the people I work with normally park their bikes, I'm S.O.L. Though today was one of the scariest rides I've ever had. I've ridden through torrential rain, snow, and temperatures both freezing and scorching; but the wind today was totally and completely unforgiving. Normally, my response is to tuck down and roll on the throttle, but it anticipated that and said: "Let's see you try that with me lifting your back wheel so it's almost off the ground, motherfucker. I will whip yo shit up in the air and throw you and yo little punk-ass toy off the road." I almost felt the bike go out from under me. It's the first time I've been leaned into a turn and still travelled in the opposite direction. I got off 90 at exit 15 and took 30/9 all the way home. I really should've taken 20, because where 30 merges with 9, it's very open and developed. There's nothing to block the wind (you learn a lot about earth/natural science as a motorcyclist). Even when the wind wasn't gusting, though, it was still stiff enough that I spent plenty of time leaning just to go straight. And there was plenty of dust in the air. I don't think I ate too much of it.
And a note to motorists: Please do not use your windshield wiper fluid at speed, especially when there is a motorcyclist behind you. 80% of that shit just gets whipped up into the air and trails about a quarter-mile behind you. Unless it's an emergency, wait til you're stopped. You'll get a lot more out of your fluid when it's actually hitting your windshield, and those behind you will appreciate it. This happened to me twice today. And I was maintaining a rather reasonable following distance (much to the annoyance of those behind me, including the geriatric two feet behind me with his blinker on for several miles, despite his neither having the opportunity nor the inclination to turn left (when I finally turned left, he went straight)).