They stayed on the trail. It wasn’t his property, after all. But he noticed how the sound of rubber on dirt became a daily presence. It broke the stillness. His dog, Taffy, started barking more. The garden windchimes, once soothing, began to feel drowned out.
Still, he kept his routine. Still planted, still watered. But the cyclists kept coming. The trouble began when a section of the nearby cycling lane was closed for construction. Orange barricades popped up overnight.