Yesterday, as I was driving, I happily slowed down for a procession of about six horses, walking single file in an orderly line, as far to the side of the road as possible. I have never seen a line of cyclists do this. I’ve written here and here about my war with cyclists. But up until now, a shot has never been fired. That might be changing.
The puppy is generating a tremendous amount of poop. We don’t wrap it up in store bought bags here in Topanga. We return it to the earth, like our antiquated septic systems. My way of disposing of it involves flinging it over the fence, towards Old Topanga Canyon Road. It’s not a gentle slope, about a fifty foot drop, there’s little margin for error. So far I have succeeded in hitting the sweet spot between the fence and the road, poop clinging precariously to cliff, but it’s just a matter of time before I fling one too far. Hundreds of cyclists ride by each week. If anything ever happens, I’m going on record right now that it was an accident.
Jack Silbert, curator