I spent labor day getting some much-needed work done following the last several days of Southern Decadence, so I kept the bike in the neighborhood, cruising to the drug store, the coffee shop to get some writing in, and then the grocery store for supplies for tonight’s red curry with vegetables and tofu. I snapped this picture of a bike locked up to this street sign on my ride home. Now, I pass this bike almost every day. It appeared a couple of months ago, but since then, I haven’t seen a rider. I figured maybe the rider just always locks up in the same place. I know I’m pretty predictable. On more than one occasion, when locking up somewhere new, a passerby has remarked on seeing it somewhere else. (Yeah, New Orleans is a small, small town.) But last week I stopped to examine the bike and the seat was all dusty. Part of that surely has to do with the seemingly never-ending construction on Louisiana, which is totally going to be worth it for late-night bike drag racing. But I think the rider is just plain gone. I bet sie has no idea somebody’s keeping an eye on the wheels, but I’m not your regular bike-watcher. I’ve got my eye on the silver fixie with red handlebar tape up at Tulane, the orange road bike that I’ve recently discovered belongs to one of the baristas at Rue, and, of course, the Surly Steamrollers that litter the neighborhood, especially that cream one with red and pink rims. Oh, and how could I forget the bike all tricked out in a unicorn costume from yesterday’s parade? Sometimes this city is just a festival of bike porn. Enjoy!