the end of a bike ride

I scribbled this on a receipt in an attempt to shake off the rust...
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I turn left.
They turn right.
"Goodbye!", I yell. "Goodbye!" (again, since there's no reaction)
we've split off. A block down they realize i'm no longer there and i flash a peace sign just as a building blocks the view for good.
i must get back to the alamo. which way now? left? sure. no. left is my default but it is apparently not the right way. turn around; there's still time. hmm, i didn't have to go to the alamo after all. there's my car over there...

take me home, [city] roads...take me home...