Cracked Window

As I pedaled south on the bike trail, I heard him behind me, louder than the bleat of children at a nearby amusement park. His shouted curses, accompanied by the occasional clanking of cans, nearly made me swerve off the blacktop.

The Gnome’s lonely vigil, which I commented on last week, isn’t so lonely anymore.

A little buddy has joined him in watching the world pass by in Northeast Portland’s Irvington neighborhood.