This morning while walking to work, I noticed a pretty nifty '70s-era Columbia Tourist laying in pieces in the parking lot of my workplace. I see abandoned bikes all the time, but they're usually rusty old Huffys that have been run over by semi-trucks. This bike was cool, and in good condition except for the fact that the back wheel had come off and some of the pieces were missing.

Anyway, when I got off work, it was still there. So I put the back wheel on well enough to walk with it, and started to take it home. Halfway to my house, a beat-up van pulled up next to me and a frantic, older woman with a thick Appalachian accent yelled, "SIR! THAT'S AR BIKE!" I thought it was a put-on at first, but after talking to her and her husband for a few mintues, I realized that no, this was their bike. That it fell apart while the guy was riding it. And, from what it looked like, they live in their van.

They offered to sell me the bike for $12, but I didn't have any money on me, so they insisted that I hand it over. I did. Now I kind of wish that I had bought it. It was a bit of a rattle-trap, and it would have been a bit impractical, but it looked cool.
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