Evidence IV: The ol' In-N-Out

Hoss had spotted one, and it looked good from his recon. Hoss does a killer job of finding stuff, riding his bike around for hours. The crew was assembled: Hoss, B-Rad, Andrew and me. Parked down the alley at a park across the street, then we lurked to the pool. A quick fence hop and we were in. This one was bone dry, but with a lot of dried up pool dust where the scum line was. I took off the diving board bolts while Hoss and Andrew swept and B-Rad blogged.

This was a high profile situation. Although it was a corner house, there were neighbors on one side and across the alley, and we saw some people around when we made our approach. As a result, we decided to limit ourselves to 15 minutes of riding. The face wall was smooth, the left hand pocket was perfect, and the shallow was workable. Everyone grinded. 15 minutes were up, and Hoss and Andrew hopped the fence. They saw a cop on the other end of the alley, so Brad and I scaled the fence under pressure. We walked around to the front, back to the car, and rolled away, another bowl under our belts. We scoped one or two more in the neighborhood, but nothing was as good as this one. I didn't quite feel like a swashbuckler -- something some goon from the New Times called me a few years ago in an effort to allow them to tag along and write a story (short story: we refused, they got pissed and threatened to "expose us" -- it's all here on my hasn't-been-updated-in-8-years-but-I-still-sell-one-or-two-t-shirts-a-year-from-it website: www.pooldust.com) -- but getting a high profile pool like this and making a clean getaway carries a certain exhiliration.

More evidence...

Hoss and Andrew clean up.

Hoss grabs nose and goes b-side.

B-Rad, B-side.

Me, about to blog the fuck out of that photo.

Andrew hits it F-side before we bail.

Steaming pile of turd down the block.