I meant to paint Tom's vegetable farm this morning. When I got there, to my surprise, the farm was a mess. The Mexican migratory workers were gone and things were in disarray. Before long, Tom came to me in his four-wheeler. "What happened, Tom?" I asked. "You know we had a bad year. I am trying to get things ready now." There didn't seem to have anything to paint there when suddenly I noticed the bike across the street. For quite some time, I had thought of painting it. The owner of the bike must have ridden it all the way to Hickey Creek Rd. And then he/she got on the school bus, leaving the bike chained to the fence.
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