One question you ask when you get home after being away for a long while is, ‘how did all this shit get here?’

‘Oh yeah, that’s my shit’, soon follows.

Out the back I had three crap bicycles, used them to ride to the beach, down the hill and up again (it’s fucking steep), maybe to the shops or wherever. Bicycles to leave out the back unlocked, so you can jump on them any time. But three? The result of an ingrained habit of collecting stuff from the ‘council cleanups’ every three months. That is, the stuff other people don’t want. All the bookshelves are made this material, since the wood is often good quality. But the bicycles: my principle is never to buy a part. I always look for someone’s else’s unwanted spare parts. All the same, all I need is one bike, so today I tinkered a bit and then decided to put all the best bits together into one bike – helped with a few old cans of graffiti spray. The result:

Wouldn’t want to ride to Perf on it, but it’ll get me to the beach and back.

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