I went to West Town Bikes, tonight, and fixed up my bikes real nice for their debut in LA. I installed fancy new shifters for all those hills, unearthed plastic bag bits from the derailleur, tightened cables, de-salted, lubed, and trued.

I hugged the mechanic-teachers, undeveloped friends, goodbye. Laura, who is often awkard -- in that way that really smart, quirky people are often awkward -- hugged me fully, hugged me like a sibling.

"So, I'm staying on the cyclesisters listserve," I said while still hugging.

"Aww," Laura said.

"I hope I'll see you when I come back to visit," I said as we let go. She nodded and didn't say anything, and I felt awkward at not being able to express that, even though we only know each other in this one arena, she means something significant to me, and I really really like her. That I'll miss being in the same city with her. How do you express these things to a casual friend who's awkward enough not to see, or at least acknowledge, the body language that's saying it?

I went to hug her boyfriend, the other mechanic-teacher. Josh is a bear, warm and easy-going and powerful. He hugged me like a sibling, too.

"Thank you," I said, and was so glad to hear it sound as heartfelt as I meant it.

"You're welcome," he said, in the same timbre.

We hugged a moment more.

"I hope I'll see you guys," I said as we parted.

"Definitely," he said, definitely.

I took a deep breath and felt relief. Mark was on his cell phone, lingering, and I stood antsily, waiting for him to finish, wanting to escape.

"Mark, can we go? I said goodbye already, I want to go," I whined a little.

And we rolled our happy happy bikes through the shop, with good luck wishes shouted after us, and we pedaled with ease the 5 miles back through the cold night toward home, or Molly's home, anyway.

Mark turned off to go meet up with friends for a last boys' night out, and I arrived soon after to an empty house. I sat down at my computer and felt tears coming on for the millionth time in the last 48 hours, since finishing the bulk of preparation for the move.

I love Chicago. I love my bike community. I love my friends, my acquaintances, my bike routes, my ability to withstand the cold.

And I took a deep breath, and looked up the Bicycle Kitchen, LA's version of West Town Bikes. I looked for the address, and then asked Google to plot out the route from my most likely apartment possibility, not having any idea where the address was.

And what do you know.