My weekly evening ceremonial visit to the dollar movie theatre in San Diego's Sports Arena Drive was always made by bike. The bike was the Fuji Team all in brown and gold. I was able to purchase a tiny ditty bag for the rear of the seat in the same color brown. Methodically I sewed a gold and brown Taoist Yin -Yang symbol to the back of the tiny seat bag. I carried spare repair tools in that pretty and personal bag. As I locked up the bike at the back of theatre, I remembered to take my Silca frame matching pump and left to enjoy a one buck movie. When I returned, I unlocked the bike and set off for home in Mission Hills. All through the trip, I smelled something awful, somewhat like feces.
As I set the bike against the wall inside of my apartment, I still smelled that turd- like aroma. While I relaxed in preparation for bed, I started sniffing the bike. First here, then there, and finally the bike bag. I unzipped the bag and found a pouch filled with dog diarrhea. How anyone could be so cruel and scatological obsessed is beyond me. Garth Libre