So the other day I was hunched over the computer in my palatial office in the attic (right at the front of the house, with a splendid view of both the neighborhood and the Denver skyline; a survivalist-leaning acquaintance once told me it had the makings of a good sniper's nest) when I heard yelling and screaming nearby.
Open the blinds to see two guys, one car, and a bike lying in the street (just the bike--the guys weren't lying in the street). Looked like just another bikie-car mishap.
The bikie, tho, as I was watching, took his lock, one of those u-shaped titanium things, and smashed out one of the the back windows of the other guy's fairly nice, fairly late-model Honda.
It was on. Car-guy gets some sort of metal rod out of his car, and they start swinging at each other with potentially skull-crushing objets.
Hero that I am, I opened the window and yelled, "I'm calling the cops, right now!" But before I even got the words out a city vehicle (not a cop car) had pulled up and a short, potbellied, 60ish, balding man got out, unhesitatingly put himself between the two submorons, and broke up the fight.
Then cops and amba-lamps and other vehicles started showing up. Car-guy gets back in his car and cranks backwards real fast for half a block, turns around in the alley, and starts driving away. A cop car coming down the opposite way semi-blocked him. Hilariously, car-guy pulls up to the cop car and says, "I'm not running away! Look what he did to my window!"
Then he ran.
Don't know if they got him. Odds, of course, are that they did.
Bikie got bonked:
Sorry I didn't get pics of the melee, but the camera had the wrong lens on (stupid camera), the other was somewhere else and etc. To make up for it, here's an urban cairn somebody placed on the opposite corner yesterday, no doubt to mark the way to Crackville: