No one is quite sure how it got there, or how it remains even after the annual mini-monsoons in late July. But every time a curious onlooker walking their dog near the vet’s office peeks over the lip of the drainage ditch, it’s visible. Mud-spattered and a little rusty, but still there.

A child’s bicycle, still with training wheels, set upright in the drainpipe under a bridge, like a refugee from a bloated Stephen King horror.

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