What Is That?

I spend so much time at Dog Park that I sometimes forget to actually look at my surroundings when I'm there. Then, when I do, it seems a foreign landscape. It's like when you stare a word or say it a few times fast, you don't even recognize it anymore. "Square, square, square, square. What is square?" So it was that weird sense of disorientation I felt the other day as I walked down the trail last week and saw this: 

First I thought to myself, "Has that always been there?" Then I wondered, "What the @#$% is it?" Answer: It's yet more metal junk in our space. Almost every day I pick up a handful of twisted, usually rusted, metal, former pieces of fences or electrical equipment. I pick it up so no one (else) trips or gets cut. But this thing? What is it? Who brought it there? Why? Something that big and awkward and dangerous-looking is now bound to stay here forever. So just ignore it. Pretend I never said anything about it. La, la, la. Look at that bird!

I think that there must be some coincidence that a big piece of  metal crap showed up around the time that it rained heavily, which always brings out kids (I assume) in trucks who do this:

Again, although it feels as though I live at Dog Park, I am only there two hours a day. God knows what atrocities are committed there during the other 22. State agency people and neighbors get bent out of shape over the dogs running free, but they have no problem with jerks in trucks who tear up the ground and trash the place? That strikes me as somewhat unfair. Oh, well. Just watch your head and step as you make your way through the rubble at Dog Park. 

--z