Michigan is a border crossing from Canada. It’s uneasy officers and a two hour wait. It’s a big busy highway first thing. Michigan is bad roads. It’s more potholes than tarmac and bike ways that are gravel ways. It’s shoulders so destroyed they lead you half way into the lane. Michigan is unfriendly. It’s drivers yelling at you to “get on the sidewalk”. It’s no bikes and no tolerance. It’s S.U.V’s and hummers and rusty vans pushing you off the path. Michigan is windy. It’s 20 knot winds blowing in your face. It’s howling westerlies, always. It’s threatening skies and thundering clouds. It’s slow riding. Michigan is wrong turns and more miles. It’s freezers without freezies and two exhausted cyclists. It’s faces with no affection and it’s awkward conversation. Michigan is shell cities and a murdered motor industry. It’s broken unburied buildings with broken buried sorrow. Or it’s fields of corn for cow and too young anyway. It’s huge semi-trucks singing by too close, bending the grass already angled from the wind. Michigan is just… Michigan is miserable..