Frenchie and the Gang

            I went to bed 16 minutes after midnight on Wednesday but I was woken up 23 minutes later when I heard cops shouting. I got up and looked out to see that two guys were face down on the ground and being handcuffed beside a brand new looking metallic orange brown coloured SUV and an already cuffed young white woman was being escorted to the police car in front of it by a husky female cop with long highlit hair tied back in a bun.

I grabbed my camera and took a few pictures. I'd considered using it to shoot video but the action part of the scene was clearly over.

The tall young black man was taken to the police car behind the SUV. The shirtless and tattooed young white guy with the neck-length light brown hair was lifted up, but he was having some difficulty with the cuffs and so they took them off and cuffed him from the front. That surprised me because anytime I’ve been handcuffed by the cops they always cuffed my hands behind my back and left me that way no matter how much the bracelets cut into my wrists. With his hands in front, the guy, could smoke while he leaned against the SUV and talked to the cops. I think he was called “Frenchie”, though he had no accent and the woman in the police car was his girlfriend. She was shouting to him out of the open window of the cruiser and he called back, “Love you!” Eventually Frenchie was led to a police car behind the SUV and I thought it was all over and went back to bed.

I couldn’t sleep because I was too curious and so when I had to get up to pee a half an hour later I came back to the window on my way back to bed and saw the cops going through the inside of the SUV with a fine-toothed comb. I returned to try and get some sleep and I think I did dose off a bit. I usually only have to pee once in the middle of the night but I had to go again an hour later. I checked the situation outside my window and now Frenchie was back beside the van.

At first I’d thought that there'd been a fight between Frenchie and the Black guy, perhaps over the girl, but it seems that they had been all riding together when the cops pulled them over. The female cop was saying, “So you say you didn't steal the car and somebody gave you the keys? Who gave you the keys?” Frenchie threw up his hand and answered, “I don't know!" "You went to your parents' place and stole drugs, jewelry and alcohol ..." Clearly family values have gone down the toilet. In my day it was fine to rob your parents of alcohol and jewelry but we left their drugs alone. Some things are sacred! I went back to bed.

An hour later I got up again and saw they’d removed the cuffs from Frenchie and were releasing him and his friend but his girlfriend was being taken into custody. Maybe she’d been the one driving the SUV, since I would think that one wouldn't be released after being caught driving a stolen vehicle. The young woman was pretty pissed off about having to go to jail. Frenchie called after her that he’d “fix it” and he shouted at the female cop that she was a “fucking bitch" just before she drove away with his girlfriend. The two cops that were remaining were just there to watch the car while it was waiting to be towed and they couldn’t answer any of Frenchie's questions. One of the cops looked up and saw me watching, and then he gave me a little nod of acknowledgement. He directed Frenchie to go to 14 Division if he wanted to find out exactly where and when he could see his girlfriend tomorrow. I went to bed for one last time and at best I got an hour and a half of sleep.

I got through my morning routine without conking out. I only felt a little out of it about a third of the way through song practice but I persevered and didn’t even screw up the songs much at all, even though I was singing in French.

I took a siesta at 14:16 and slept for almost two hours. I didn’t feel quite caught up but I was okay.

I took my bike ride at 17:00. It breezy and almost cool enough to have worn a long sleeved shirt, but I was fine once I got rolling.

There were a couple of cyclists ahead of me from downtown until they disappeared far ahead of me after Donlands. One was a short white guy in a white shirt and the other was a taller Asian guy. I thought for sure the Asian guy would beat the white guy because he looked more like a cyclist but he stayed behind him the whole time.

I rode up Birchmount two blocks to Highview, took that one block to Aylesworth, rode south to Pinegrove and then headed back to the Danforth.

A cyclist passed me, but before he could get very far ahead a car cut him off to get into a parking space. Suddenly he slowed down, though I don’t know why. I doubt if the sudden use of the brakes had caused his bike any damage. I swerved around the squashed raccoon corpse and passed him.

At around Pape I had a hassle of my own. I was waiting at the light beside a rickety and noisy old black truck. When the light changed I went forward and so did the truck, but then it began to turn and was coming dangerously close to me, as it seemed I was in the driver’s blind spot. I steered out to avoid him and finally got ahead where he could see me and then I continued west. This is how cyclists get killed by trucks.

Queen Street westbound just after University is broken up and cracked to a rim-bending degree for cyclists and it's been like that all summer. It could be avoided by going out onto the streetcar tracks, but there's also an accidentally formed narrow path of concrete that curves in and kisses the curb until it clears the rough area. I'm not the only cyclist that uses it but it would be interesting to see what percentage do.

I stopped at Freshco, and as I came in I passed a conversation between a young woman from Africa that has worked at the store for a few years and a tall guy of Portuguese descent that was doing the work of a stocker in the fruit section but had the manner of a manager. It seemed that she’d asked to borrow some money but he was reminding her of a time when he'd asked her for money and she'd given him a hard time. Her response was incredulous with a mix of laughter thrown in for effect, No! No, no ...I ..." I didn't catch the rest.  I bought Ontario grapes and nectarines, BC cherries, one-year-old cheddar, paper towels, yogourt and a jar of honey. The only male cashier is Jeremy, who’s very personable and good at his job. He asked how I was and I said, “I’m okay. How are you?” He said, “Not too shabby!" That implies that he's just shabby enough.

I grilled the four steaks that I’d bought on Saturday and had one with a potato and gravy while watching Mike Hammer, Private Eye. This story had a bizarre premise. A man undergoing surgery emits a toxic chemical as soon as he is cut open, which causes the patient and the entire staff of the operating room to immediately die. The patient’s daughter asks Hammer to investigate. It turns out that the patient was unknowingly part of a murder using chemical ammunition and he wasn’t the target but the weapon.