abandoned bikes
10-04-05 | 02:10 PM
#1
Thread Starter
Si Senior
Joined: Nov 2004
Posts: 2,669
Likes: 11
From: Naperville, Illinois
Bikes: Too Numerous (not)
abandoned bikes
I'm noticing that October is the time people start setting out their old bikes for the garbage man around here. This week I picked up a 68 Raleigh Grand Prix, 82 Schwinn Le Tour, and 70-something Panasonic DX2000. Except for tires, all are in surprisingly good shape. Every year I've picked up 3 or 4 more and am starting to overflow, but I can't resist these old steeds.
10-04-05 | 03:34 PM
#2
No Rocket Surgeon
Joined: Jan 2005
Posts: 1,648
Likes: 6
From: Corona and S. El Monte, CA
Bikes: Cannondale D600, Dahon Speed T7
So wasteful!
Too bad these bikes aren't donated to an organization that can repair them.
I try to leave unwanted or outdated furniture or machines at the curb on the weekends. SOMEONE always takes them away, to be repaired and reused.
Too bad these bikes aren't donated to an organization that can repair them.
I try to leave unwanted or outdated furniture or machines at the curb on the weekends. SOMEONE always takes them away, to be repaired and reused.
10-04-05 | 03:59 PM
#3
Unfortunately, here in the North Country, pickings are slim. I suspect there are many a nice steel rides lurking in the barns and sheds though.
I do make a habit of slowing and gazing when I see garage sales.
I do make a habit of slowing and gazing when I see garage sales.
__________________
This is Africa, 1943. War spits out its violence overhead and the sandy graveyard swallows it up. Her name is King Nine, B-25, medium bomber, Twelfth Air Force. On a hot, still morning she took off from Tunisia to bomb the southern tip of Italy. An errant piece of flak tore a hole in a wing tank and, like a wounded bird, this is where she landed, not to return on this day, or any other day.
This is Africa, 1943. War spits out its violence overhead and the sandy graveyard swallows it up. Her name is King Nine, B-25, medium bomber, Twelfth Air Force. On a hot, still morning she took off from Tunisia to bomb the southern tip of Italy. An errant piece of flak tore a hole in a wing tank and, like a wounded bird, this is where she landed, not to return on this day, or any other day.
