There is a small gang of
outlaw bikers in our neighborhood, and I don't mean the Harley Davidson motorcycle riders. It's the group of teens whose energy is unlimited, at least when it's directed towards digging up the canyons to build bike jumps.
This morning I went riding to the shoe repair man, to get his opinion on some sewing and dye-ing. On the way back I diverted myself off the roadway and directed my bike up through a canyon. I could look into the back yards, which is where I saw the car of the day. Or perhaps we should call it the VW planter box of the day? [Click on the image to enlarge, then the back arrow of your browser to return.]
I came across a newly-created, but even-more-recently, washed-out bike jump area. We had a couple good rainstorms in the past month, and water flow through the canyon seems to have taken the top of most of the jumps. Now they are just impediments to pedestrians and places for dogs to fill with poo.
I found some evidence of the dispute these "kids" have been having with the neighbors. I say kids. They are old enough to drive, and to vote, but not old enough to own property. A carefully-painted sign on a large sheet of metal was dropped in the middle of the moguls. No ambiguity there.
Changing up and off the small chainring, I pulled out onto the street. At a nearby light, I saw this tragic sight. Bike owners, please don't just toss your bike in the trunk. The rear decklid was not tied down, and at each bump the frame jumped up and down and the lid hammered on the wheel or the handlebar. On the bright side, the wheel was not in line with the exhaust, so the tire wasn't melted.
It's an old Peugeot bike in a Lexus trunk.
