I used to live next to a family who lived in a shanty, years ago when I was going to school in California. In this case is was the last remnants of the Hells Angels, and this was their homeland.

The couple used to sleep with their Harley Davidson in their bedroom, and deal drugs out of the front of their house. One of them, the brother of the husband, was a serious addict.

The couple used to have regular spats. He used to take out his gun and shoot near his wife, just to frighten her you understand. She used to get into her 1970's American muscle car, back up a few meters, then crash into her his 1950's Chevy pick up truck, with her tires smoking. This was just to put a few small dents into it you understand, never the intention to cause any real damage.

When they argued, they used to shout threatening things at each other, at the top of their lungs, for hours.

The next day they were always back in love again. He could be seen pounding the dents out of his pick up with a hammer, never getting them out completely and collecting them over time.

When they weren't fighting, they were great people, and some of the nicest I've known. The last I heard of them they were homeless, because they couldn't pay their rent. The neighborhood wasn't the same without the squealing tires and flying bullets...

Wed Jan 27 19:39:57 SAST 2010  Patrick - http://www.patnsteph.net/weblog