Which Do You Lock First?

During my recent trip to Cambodia and Laos, I saw some heartbreaking poverty.  Still, there seemed to be little or no theft:  People left all sorts of items, including bicycles, out in the open, unsecured.  

And, as in other parts of the world, people leave their shoes at the door before entering their homes or, sometimes, even places of work or business.  That makes sense when so many streets, even in the middle of a city like Siem Reap, are wholly or partially dirt--which, of course, becomes mud when it rains--and dogs, cats and sometimes other animals roam freely on them.

Still, I had to wonder whether anyone had ever lost his or her shoes after leaving them by the door. (That didn't stop me, though, from following the local custom.)  Or a bicycle, for that matter.

This photo wasn't taken in any place I visited, as far as I know.  Having seen it, though, I have to wonder:  Is there a place where you're more likely to have your shoes than your bike stolen?

Officer, I Was Just Helping A Friend Clean Up!

I once moved my possessions from one apartment to another--on my bicycle.

Granted, I didn't have much at the time.  Still, I take pride in having changed residences without the aid of trucks, vans or moving companies.  For me, the experience affirms what someone--an old riding buddy, if I recall correctly--once told me:  You can carry anything on a bicycle.  It's just a matter of loading and packing it.

A fellow in Oxford, Ohio apparently followed that advice.  He transported a mini-refrigerator and full-length mirror aboard a pink Mongoose bicycle.  

Of course, Stephen Moster didn't have those items on his back or shoulders, or strapped to a Blackburn rear carrier, as he pedaled along. For that matter, he wasn't hauling a modern bike trailer or even a vintage Cannondale bugger.  Instead, he was pushing a shopping cart loaded with the refrigerator and mirror.

I would have respect and even admiration for him:  After all, it takes a certain amount of ingenuity to conceive of such a system, and a certain level of skill to ride while pushing a cart.  And, yes, he showed that something could be done without a motor vehicle when most people would have assumed that one was necessary.

I would have respect for him...if the refrigerator and mirror were his, or he were transporting them for a friend--or even if someone was paying him to move them.   Or if his story--that two men invited him to "take whatever I want" from a house they were cleaning up--were true.

You know where this is going:  He burgled that house.  In fact, the two men were cleaning up from a previous burglary and talking with an insurance representative when they were startled by sounds.  They went to a neighbor's porch, where they watched Moster take the refrigerator and mirror.  Realizing he couldn't carry them on his bike, he left and then returned with a Kroger's grocery cart.


(This is how he should have done it!)

Hmm...The refrigerator and mirror were burgled and the cart was "appropriated".  It makes me wonder how he acquired the bicycle.

I still must say that I sort of admire his ingenuity.  But I would offer him this bit of advice: If you're going to abscond with other people's property, don't do it on a pink bike!

Oh, Deer--In The Bronx!

Yesterday, I took another ride to Connecticut.  The day could hardly have been better:  neither the warmth nor sunlight were oppressive, and only a few high, wispy clouds floated across the sky.  I pedaled into a fairly brisk wind most of the way up--which meant, of course, it blew me back to Astoria.

And nearly into the path of a deer.  I was gliding through a turn on the Pelham Bay Park path, just before it crosses an entrance to the New England Thruway.  Trees cover one side of the path and line the other; just beyond that line is a marsh, with the hulking structures of Co-op City in sight.

I missed that deer by about five meters or so.  But I think I was more surprised than startled:  After all, I was in The Bronx.  Yes, you read that right.  It's one thing to see Bambi's wild cousin dart in front of you when you're barreling down a road in rural Pennsylvania, or a mountain goat bolt across the road you're thumping along with a flat tire at 90 KPH in the Alps.  You can talk about such things and, whatever judgments people are making, they believe you.

But a deer in the Bronx?  I'm still having trouble believing it--even though I saw it.  If only I could have taken a photo!