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The road treasure cornucopia. |
It’s that time of year: the elementary school’s pumpkin
patch overfloweth. My neighbour’s apple tree is weighed down like a sherpa.
Huge bundles of hay dot the brown fields outside the city. Farmers are frantically
taking off crops and storing up the bounty of the season. The Saturday market stalls
are bursting with fabulous butternuts, swelling turnips, and mighty rutabagas.
But if farmers are harvesting now, why can’t cyclists? In
the past week of riding, I’ve noticed an incredible amount of road treasure—you
know, the man-made prize objects that somehow end up on the shoulder of the
roads (not garbage, not litter), the cool
stuff that motorists don’t see but that cyclists do, even if they don’t always
stop to examine it. Every cyclist’s got his or her road treasure favorites: the
diamond ring, the teddy bear, the Ganesh figurine, the waterlogged Bible.
The treasure I’ve been noticing isn’t just the usual flotsam
and jetsam of bungee cords and work gloves but weird stuff, and tons of it.
It’s as if the very roads are trying to get in on Nature’s act, and, like the
fields, are brimming with their own strange fruit.