Ok, I have a few bikes stored in my house. More specifically 5 of the 6 bikes you could hop on and ride away right now. Then there are the boxes of bike parts that could possibly build another two or three bikes with a little help from Mr. Rexford (pictured). I stumbled upon Mr. Rexford's bike repair shop today while wandering through a rather interesting part of town. I'll have to retrace my route on a map to figure out just where I ended up.
Anyway, the main thoroughfare was lined with auto dealers. Turning onto the side street was like stepping into a junk yard, although a very organized junk yard. But is wasn't a junk yard at all. There was block after block in every direction of storefronts peddling used bumpers, wipers, dashboards, right doors, axles, engines, mirrors, cables, mufflers, gas caps, things, gizmos, doohickies and whatchamacalits. Oh yeah, batteries and dipsticks and lots of jacks. I'm not really sure why I kept going. Probably just to see how far it would go on. All used stuff. If the Makola market fruit and veggies was the most colorful place I've seen, this auto parts market was the darkest place. Everything black and covered in grease and dirt. Almost creepy in broad daylight.
Oh yeah, back to Mr. Rexford. Apparently the majority of the bikes are donations and cast-offs from Asia, US and Europe. Perhaps Bikes-not-Bombs collections... He didn't quite know for sure. Some notable items. Lots of horizontal slot frames. A belt drive bike. Lots of interesting and racks. Lots of scap. This is the smaller of three or four piles too.
We chatted a while longer about bikes, rides, hard work and Rasta (not sure why) with me mostly nodding in agreement until I needed to get out of the sun. Was interesting.
I just hope that I won't need to return for automobile related reasons once our car arrives.
