I scratch west on Fargo after spotting a blue school bus across Sheridan. A light rain begins as I wait for Jim Morrison at the back of the blue bus, but Jim’s a no-show. Asshole. That’s okay, we’ll forgive him. I ease on down Sheridan. The rain is not yet hard enough to break the canopy of the late summer leaves. Soon it becomes a shower and begins to pepper the sidewalks. Yellow girders announce the train bridge over the Ashland intersection ahead, which looms as shelter and perhaps mirth.