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Where Do You Leave Your Bike Overnight?


Eduardo

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A double garage / gym / workout / music / motorbike storage room.

Never to conserned about my bike getting nicked as my dad leaves the keys in all his motorbikes so i doubt that someone would opt for a seat without a bike. The garage is always left open an nothings ever been nicked.... but i guess i live down a close so not many people who dont live there really come down it

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In my garage locked to my dmr :P

So basically, instead of the robber just taking one, they can take both :lol:

A double garage / gym / workout / music / motorbike storage room.

Never to conserned about my bike getting nicked as my dad leaves the keys in all his motorbikes so i doubt that someone would opt for a seat without a bike. The garage is always left open an nothings ever been nicked.... but i guess i live down a close so not many people who dont live there really come down it

Please can i have your full adress? and times you may be out? :P

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A double garage / gym / workout / music / motorbike storage room.

Never to conserned about my bike getting nicked as my dad leaves the keys in all his motorbikes so i doubt that someone would opt for a seat without a bike. The garage is always left open an nothings ever been nicked.... but i guess i live down a close so not many people who dont live there really come down it

I want in.

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That's for bloody sure... Though the UK wouldn't really get my vote either, much the same problems as Ireland (Namely similar levels of rain and worse scumbags - The UK is supposed to have the worst chavs in Europe at this stage :() - If I was moving somewhere it would have to be nearer the equator. Warmer with a lot less wind and rain would be good... :)

I consider emigration until cognitive dissonance sets in. If it's really so bad here why haven't I moved? Maybe I do like it here...

Then I listen to a few of the rebel songs, you know the ones - the old songs, the ones that'd melt your face, sang by scary unkempt men with wild eyes, red windburnt faces, yellow teeth and hands like shovels in humungous woolly jumpers passed to them from father to son along with about 3 square feet of land that's mostly rocks for growing spuds in (That they're willing to both kill for but mostly end up dying for), that tell in gruesome and excruciating detail how much fun the Irish had suffering all the time (Occasionally due to English rule, but that's irrelevant to song, it's all about the suffering) and I realise things could be worse :P... :D

Edited by psycholist
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Given that bicycle theft is pretty much the national sport here in Holland , I store mine in my room , surrounded by barbed wire and antipersonnell mines , with armed guards in a watchtower directing guard dogs with searchlights .

post-3439-1200582405_thumb.jpg

And , uh - y'know , I live on the 14th floor .

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