There's a spot along my commute, at the start of a gated-off fire road into park land, that is sort of a bootleg parking lot for dog walkers, MTB poachers, midnight dumping and B&E. It's the spot where I'd be most likely to find something, but it also seems like anything I found there would be morally tainted.
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Genesis 49:16-17
"Well, well!" said Holmes, impatiently. "A good cyclist does not need a high road. The moor is intersected with paths and the moon is at the full."