Throughout my twenties, I went camping every so often, always the tag-along of someone who had all the gear. It was usually for just a night, somewhere within a couple hours of New York City by car. When I met my now-boyfriend of six years, the tag-along scenario became a more permanent one, and I gradually began contributing to the enormous box in the basement full of tents and camping showers and folding chairs and battery-powered lights. Along with building a campfire, this became one of the ...
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LA's Frogtown, on the Cusp of Change

The Spoke Bicycle Cafe sits on the last lot of the last block of a dead-end Los Angeles street. It can be remarkably sunny here, in a way that makes your eyes hurt. The street stops at a chain-link fence, bringing what little traffic exists here to an abrupt halt. Street parking is generally not a problem. The day of my visit, in fact, I was the only customer to arrive via car. Most of Spoke’s customers arrive instead by bike, and they enter through a different door, one that opens onto the ...
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Welcome to Flung’s evolving collection of books we love about places that intrigue.