Street meets feet, stash the stuff, leave the bike

I put my luggage and camping gear into storage. I wanted to be able to amble about with out this junk, I've always like travelling light. I found a storage place and rented a small locker. I made my first intercontinental trip with a tiny backpack. The storage unit, $20 for 30 days seemed steep, but I could not fathom what would happen if my gear was stolen. ripped off. The side benefit was that I was able to wander away from my bike, and by this time it was clear that would make for new kinds of interactions. It did strike me as odd that for $20 I could find a dry clean space for my stuff for a month while multitudes were camped out in the wilderness. I wondered what would happen if the homeless hoards of Tuscon had the opportunity to live as well as my shit did for the same price. Possibly a revolution. Though I kept the bike parked at camp, I was comfortable leaving it there. Something just seemed a little sketch about this bike parked by a big old tree. Scene of a crime, something wicked. Something private. Motorcycle in the small wood close to a fire ring. There were plenty of easier things to steal.