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men on wheels
Aug. 17th, 2006 05:07 pmI make a lot of typos on this keyboard.
I'm kinda of mixed mind on the continuing yuppification of my neighbourhood. In part because I am part of the reason it's happening, moving in here and scooping up the affordable housing like I did. But I still really hate the weekend warriors who come down here from the suburbs in their cars and clog up the roads in every area where a new club has opened up. And the garish ads all over the place for new condos, assuring people that they'll be "bohemian" if they just move here.
But there are still a few cheap apartments and rooming houses and hostels and rehab centres (and crack houses) in the neighbourhood as well as the local mental health hospital, soup kitchen and needle exchange site. So that means we still have our share of interesting people.
There is one gentleman who lives just south of me who uses a wheelchair. He has huskys - usually two, although I have once or twice seen him with three - who are tied to his chair. The dogs gallop down the street with their tails waving and their tongues hanging out in big doggy grins and he bounces down the road behind them in his chair. Everybody involved looks like they are having the biggest blast ever.
There is a bar nearby that always has a lineup of those motorized scooters for handicapped people lined up outside. One of them in particular always catches my eye because it has a leopard-print seat cover. I spotted the rider one day, a thin silver-haired man with the turned-up jeans and careful duck-tailed hairstyle of a 50's greaser. This is where Fonzie ended up when they told him he wasn't allowed to ride his motorcycle any more.
The other day I was coming home and I was passed by one of the local street people. He had managed to get a pair of rollerblades from somewhere. He was a bit unsteady on them but was managing to make pretty good speed along the sidewalk. He wore a black suit jacket in the 40+ degreee heat, and it billowed out behind him until he looked like a giant greasy raven. He was singing at the top of his lungs the entire way.
Little things like that make me really like livin here.
What I'm listening to right this second: Young MC
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gregclow for finding this. I freely admit I wanted to see this video again just to check out Flea's trousers. BEST TROUSERS EVER!
I'm kinda of mixed mind on the continuing yuppification of my neighbourhood. In part because I am part of the reason it's happening, moving in here and scooping up the affordable housing like I did. But I still really hate the weekend warriors who come down here from the suburbs in their cars and clog up the roads in every area where a new club has opened up. And the garish ads all over the place for new condos, assuring people that they'll be "bohemian" if they just move here.
But there are still a few cheap apartments and rooming houses and hostels and rehab centres (and crack houses) in the neighbourhood as well as the local mental health hospital, soup kitchen and needle exchange site. So that means we still have our share of interesting people.
There is one gentleman who lives just south of me who uses a wheelchair. He has huskys - usually two, although I have once or twice seen him with three - who are tied to his chair. The dogs gallop down the street with their tails waving and their tongues hanging out in big doggy grins and he bounces down the road behind them in his chair. Everybody involved looks like they are having the biggest blast ever.
There is a bar nearby that always has a lineup of those motorized scooters for handicapped people lined up outside. One of them in particular always catches my eye because it has a leopard-print seat cover. I spotted the rider one day, a thin silver-haired man with the turned-up jeans and careful duck-tailed hairstyle of a 50's greaser. This is where Fonzie ended up when they told him he wasn't allowed to ride his motorcycle any more.
The other day I was coming home and I was passed by one of the local street people. He had managed to get a pair of rollerblades from somewhere. He was a bit unsteady on them but was managing to make pretty good speed along the sidewalk. He wore a black suit jacket in the 40+ degreee heat, and it billowed out behind him until he looked like a giant greasy raven. He was singing at the top of his lungs the entire way.
Little things like that make me really like livin here.
What I'm listening to right this second: Young MC
Thanks to
gregclow for finding this. I freely admit I wanted to see this video again just to check out Flea's trousers. BEST TROUSERS EVER!