The sheriff Pride #6

Stepping off that middle-road lookout, I kept a steady march along the final stretch of white paint until my boots hit the opposite curb ramp. Out on the open asphalt at night isn't a place to linger. Right where the pedestrian slope met the sidewalk concrete, a sturdy molded cardboard cup carrier was resting upside down against a green steel bike rack. I braced my boots against the gritty pavement, gripped the fibrous rim with both hands, and levered it upright flush against the metal post. Unrolling my trusty leather strap across the recessed bottom to block the pavement chill, our far-side outpost is locked down tight.