Things find me

 I used to think I was particularly lucky finding useful items on the side of the road, even among the population who rides a bike a lot a week a way. Aaaa, anyhow, finds happened frequently enough that I started to think that, in fact, or at least fantastical fiction, things, in need of a home, find me.

Yes, that's a tremendously world ordered viewpoint for one with such anti theist leanings as myself, but I like the sound and feel of it, so maybe that's worth me thinking I'm likely wrong. Heck, call it the Cult of the Roadkill (my father's pet name for my finds).

To subject you to recounting a few of my favorites: years ago I was rolling through East Hartford with Cliff, to whom I had recounted tales of many of my finds. With me taking a pull, I heard an exclamation behind me as we negotiated an intersection. Cliff was astounded that he had spotted the 1/4" drive Craftsman breaker bar that I'd rolled past. What can I say, it was an intersection, and safety first, so I had my eyes honed on the bigger car shaped things on the road. Cliff raved and chided, that he, not I, had made the find despite my having first shot in the lead, so of course, a month later, I had to send him a picture from the side of the road in East Windsor explaining that I'd merely been waiting for the breaker bar with complete set of sockets and metal case!

Then in the fall of 2015, I rode to Charleston, SC, because it is much, much too far to walk. On my last day into town from the state capital of Columbia, I was racing hurricane Joaquin, but not racing so desperately that there wasn't time to collect the load securing chain binder from the verge and stop at the next post office to flat rate box it back home. Not a common find, as used correctly, they don't come loose and fall off trucks, but uncommonly handy, as I had bought a used one off eBay earlier in the year for around $50, and the second has helped me move tractor, excavators, and loads of logs safely in the years that followed.

Yesterday, however, my find felt fantastically fortuitous, even my my standards. Headed home from a morning hoof hustle (run, and yes, I'm really pushing the alliteration theme), I took the longer ramble home by bike, by Bay Road, which I acknowledge is not the normal source for maple syrup as my supply dwindles, but normal is definitely overrated. This at least gallon should keep me supplied through the next year, including this morning's French toast. Sweet!