Road Ranger & Chi'taliano Pizza

My stripper’s maiden voyage : Road Ranger & Chi'taliano Pizza (Part 4)

I woke up in Minneapolis at 10AM. I was absolutely exhausted, yet I was motivated:  I knew I had passed the half way point, I knew home was close. 

What I didn't know is what home meant to me had forever changed. 

My goal: spend the night to Chicago, skip the Canadian border and sleep in Toronto.

That was a planned 1,000 miles. 

For Europeans out there: that's like doing Paris to Rome in a single day. 

That didn't go according to plan. 

I headed out from Minneapolis to Chicago around noon and started bombing to Chicago. The roads were empty, I was armed with Waze and some Road Ranger water bottles.

I started running at a serious pace. 

Chicago was my first major metropolitan area since I had passed through Calgary over 3 days ago. 3 days that felt like 30 - I didn't remember what a big city was. 

Traffic. 

There was a Bears game that night. Of course, I didn't know. 

As I closed onto Chicago, the cliché Metro lines bordering the highway reminded my of all the Michael Jordan documentaries I had watched as a kid. 

And within those soothing childhood memories: thunder. 

A C63 AMG wants to play. 

They are clumsy beasts, only fully deploying their potential whenever it's straight and traction is plentiful. 

This wasn't the case. 

My M3 feasted. 

Welcome to Chicago. 

I parked the M3 at Millenium's Park and when for a stroll in what I discovered to be an absolutely beautiful city.

It was my time to feast. Chi'taliano Pizza. 

Chicago truly is amazing and a sight to be seen.

It had flashes of New York City with its busy streets, towering sky scrapers but it had a smoothness & calmness that NYC couldn't so easily attain on most days - even on the night of a Bears game. 

They lost, obviously.  

Went for a walk all around Chicago's downtown from the Thing to the Canal, stopped for some Nutella dessert. 

It was a great flash of a city, but it was that time again, the alarm sounded off.

It was 11PM. 

Should I sleep or should I bomb it?

That Pizza had me smelling my french-italian home.

Cannonball Home Run it was, and Cannonball it really was. 

 -Matt