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PA BICYCLE LAWS. BICYCLE LAWS


Pa bicycle laws. Installing bicycle grips. Schwinn no pressure bicycle seat.



Pa Bicycle Laws





pa bicycle laws






    bicycle laws
  • (Bicycle law) Bicycle law is a specialized field of law relating to the use of bicycles. Although bicycle law is a relatively new specialty within the law, first appearing in the late 1980s, its roots date back to the 1880s and 1890s, when cyclists were using the courts to assert a legal right





    pa
  • Father

  • pascal: a unit of pressure equal to one newton per square meter

  • protactinium: a short-lived radioactive metallic element formed from uranium and disintegrating into actinium and then into lead

  • dad: an informal term for a father; probably derived from baby talk











pa bicycle laws - Bicycle Theft




Bicycle Theft


Bicycle Theft



This guide addresses bicycle theft, beginning by describing the problem and reviewing the factors that contribute to it. It then identifies a series of questions to help you analyze your local bicycle theft problem. Finally, it reviews responses to bicycle theft and describes the findings of evaluative research and operational policing.

This guide addresses bicycle theft, beginning by describing the problem and reviewing the factors that contribute to it. It then identifies a series of questions to help you analyze your local bicycle theft problem. Finally, it reviews responses to bicycle theft and describes the findings of evaluative research and operational policing.










78% (18)





The commissioner Louis MICHEL congratulates Namini WIJEDASA, Lorenzo Natali Grand Prize 2005




The commissioner Louis MICHEL congratulates Namini WIJEDASA, Lorenzo Natali Grand Prize 2005





Louis Michel, Member of the EC in charge of Development and Humanitarian Aid, at the ceremony for the 2005 Lorenzo Natali Prize for Journalists with Namini Wijedasa, from Sri Lanka, Grand Prize 2005 for her article "Blatant, relentless child recruitment - Tigers kill democracy in Batticaloa;

Tigers kill democracy in Batticaloa
Blatant, relentless child recruitment

by Namini Wijedasa

Under the shade of a leafy tree, four alert young men are keeping watch – LTTE cadres, by their clothing. A sharp knife glints in the hand of one man. Another holds a heavy pole. Two motorbikes stand ready.

The dry, dusty ground is blistering hot. Glaring sunshine blinds the eye. A morose breeze occasionally disturbs the sullen atmosphere but Vakarai gets little respite.

An old, sarong-clad man on a rickety bicycle slowly pedals towards the four men. He must bypass them to access the main road. One of them casts a menacing remark at him. Incensed, the man shouts: "You’re here to take our children. Go on, take them. Why harass me?"

A cadre darts forward and tries to wrench the bicycle from the sun-burnt villager. He resists. The man holding the pole strikes him hard – and repeatedly – on the legs. The villager struggles onto his bicycle and pedals a short distance, before toppling off. He limps towards a hut, dragging the bicycle alongside.

Two of his assailants leap onto a motorbike, stop near the hovel and follow him inside. Two others join them, swinging more heavy poles. They exit a little later, laughing and bragging that they had "hammered the old man good".


Abduction intersection

The four men take up their original positions, waiting... watching. On their right is the village school. Nearby, the Tamils Rehabilitation Organisation (TRO) has a field office. Foreign NGO-workers in fancy SUVs coast past, occasionally peering at the flag-decked Tiger memorial that’s opposite. A monument to martyrs.

Not far away, the sun beats down angrily on rows of white tombstones. More Tiger heroes. An illustration, done in black paint, catches the eye. It depicts an armed LTTE cadre leading two young children by each hand. Symbolic, chilling, accurate.

"They take children all the time," says an impoverished, desolate woman living in a tsunami-camp at Kandalady, Vakarai (under LTTE control). "Even yesterday.... they took away a fifteen-year-old boy."

From where? "From there," she says, pointing in the general direction. "Near the school."

For many villagers, this particular junction in Vakarai – near the school, the TRO office and the Tiger memorial – is the abduction intersection. But children are also vulnerable in every other corner of the Batticaloa district. Any unaccompanied child risks being kidnapped. And many, many have been done so during the past few months. Blatantly, fearlessly, repeatedly.


Relentless increase in

conscription

"Basically, the situation is really, really bad," says an NGO coordinator in Batticaloa, opting to remain anonymous. (No names can be cited because those interviewed risk being assassinated). "Just this morning I spoke to a friend of mine who’s missing a relative, a fifteen-year-old boy. Nobody knows where he is."

The issue of child abductions comes up regularly at NGO meetings, he revealed. But they don’t even minute these discussions for fear of reprisal.

Father Harry Miller is an outspoken Jesuit missionary and former rector of St Michael’s College, Batticaloa. When he was apprised that the Tigers had abducted a boy in Vakarai the day before, he replied: "I would be surprised if they only took one. They had a recent temple festival in Batticaloa and they took a dozen. All these festivals are under the control of the LTTE now."

"The Tigers are recruiting large numbers of children," he maintained.

Father Miller said he had even confronted LTTE political wing leader, S P Tamilselvan, with reports of child recruitment. "He told me they’re not doing it anymore," he related. "I told him not to tell me that because I knew they were continuing conscription. He replied that they were only taking children at the age of 17. I told him that he must have the consent of parents."

What was Tamilselvan’s response? "He changed the subject," Father Miller said.

There are also "believable reports" that the Karuna faction has recommenced child recruitment but these were not being documented.

UNICEF has statistics of conscription but warns that these are only reported cases. There are countless others. The last two months have seen an unrelenting increase. June recorded fifty-nine cases of underage recruitment; in July, 111 (one hundred and eleven) children were taken. Fifty-six were from Batticaloa.

"Any time, it can happen," said a man at a transitional tsunami camp, also at Kandalady. "They pull children off bicycles, on the way











JACB AN001 0038




JACB AN001 0038





Photograph of Joseph Warren Jacobs - husband of Mary Emma Dulaney, son of Henry Moore Jacobs & Eleanor Ann Kent. Original, professional photograph from Hawkins, Waynesburg, PA. The Jacobs-Kent Series probably began with Eleanor Ann (Kent) Jacobs [1832-1902], wife of Henry Moore Jacobs, and daughter of David Kent & Elizabeth Barnes. Eleanor's photographs were passed to her son Joseph Warren Jacobs [1868-1947] to his daughter Helen Mae (Jacobs) Fonner [1922-1999] to her daughter Anna (Fonner) Blystone who with her husband, George Blystone, owned and shared the photographs with the Greene Connections: Greene County, Pennsylvania Photo Archives Project in 2005. Each generation added to the collection with photographs from their own family and in-laws. The Jacobs-Kent Series is a part of the Helen Mae (Jacobs) Fonner Collection.









pa bicycle laws








pa bicycle laws




Illegal Fun Under the Sun






I did not always want to be a big drug dealer; I mean it is not the kind of thing you learn in school like being a fireman or an astronaut. It is just something I fell into when I really needed the money, but it took a long time to get there.
I was living in this ratty little apartment with my high school girlfriend. It was the first place either one of us ever had and it was a real wakeup call. It was 1969. Jimmy Hendrix had just died and Janis was about to go, in the next year. Everyone who was anyone was getting high or so it seemed. The war in Vietnam was raging and I was seriously thinking of burning my draft card. It was a crazy time.
The apartment was in this huge three-story house on Alpharetta Street in the North Hill neighborhood of Akron Ohio. The house had been divided into three apartments, vertically separated from each other. On the ground floor was Sandy the hooker. She lived with her pimp Jimmy who was an ex-con on parole. They were nice people and we got along well.
Sandy kept offering Riki work as a prostitute, but I could not handle it. Sandy said she had clients who would pay for an extra girl to watch while she humiliated men, and all Riki had to do was just watch. It all sounded a bit weird to my middle class sensibilities.
Riki and I lived on the middle floor. There were four rooms. They were the old bedrooms from when the place was a complete house and they were all about the same size. One was a kitchen, one was a living room and there were two bedrooms; one of which was painted completely black. The black room was creepy. Even the woodwork and the inside of the closet were painted black. The floor was painted black. I never met the previous inhabitants who painted the place black and I can only imagine what kind of lives they have gone onto. If perchance you had a house at 84 Alpharetta Street in Akron Ohio and you painted one of the bedrooms black please get hold of me and keep taking your Meds.
A married schoolteacher who kept the place as a place to sleep with his girl friend occupied the top floor. He was never there, but when he was he had to use the bathroom in out apartment; which was inconvenient at best. I member one night when Riki and I were tripping in the bath tub together and suddenly the door opened and the guy came in sat on the toilet and did his thing. At this time the walls were quivering and we were seeing those little light trails that you see on acid; and it was all pretty weird.
The house was huge. Sandy had the best place being on the ground floor and it just got steeper and narrower as it went up. There was a front porch that nobody ever went on.
It was changing from working class older white to lower class black. The two groups did not like each other or trust each other. In many ways the north is much more segregated than the south.
In the summer the black kids would get out this huge wrench that they had stolen from a fire truck and turn on the fire hydrants and play in the water. After an hour or so the firemen would show up and chase the kids off and shut down the fire hydrants and then after that they would leave the kids would turn them back on again. It was a fairly good-natured battle fought only on the hottest days of summer. I never saw any of the kids arrested and I never saw any violence toward the firemen.
In the winter it was a different battle. On the coldest days it seemed that there was only one car on each block that had a working battery. A battery loses half its strength at 32 degrees and drops incrementally down from there. So what would happen is that the one guy on the block who had a battery that would crank would start his car and then he would drive across the street to the next guy whose car would not

I did not always want to be a big drug dealer; I mean it is not the kind of thing you learn in school like being a fireman or an astronaut. It is just something I fell into when I really needed the money, but it took a long time to get there.
I was living in this ratty little apartment with my high school girlfriend. It was the first place either one of us ever had and it was a real wakeup call. It was 1969. Jimmy Hendrix had just died and Janis was about to go, in the next year. Everyone who was anyone was getting high or so it seemed. The war in Vietnam was raging and I was seriously thinking of burning my draft card. It was a crazy time.
The apartment was in this huge three-story house on Alpharetta Street in the North Hill neighborhood of Akron Ohio. The house had been divided into three apartments, vertically separated from each other. On the ground floor was Sandy the hooker. She lived with her pimp Jimmy who was an ex-con on parole. They were nice people and we got along well.
Sandy kept offering Riki work as a prostitute, but I could not handle it. Sandy said she had clients who would pay for an extra girl to watch while she humiliated men, and all Riki had to do was just watch. It all sounded a bit weird to my middle class sensibilities.
Riki and I lived on the middle floor. There were four rooms. They were the old bedrooms from when the place was a complete house and they were all about the same size. One was a kitchen, one was a living room and there were two bedrooms; one of which was painted completely black. The black room was creepy. Even the woodwork and the inside of the closet were painted black. The floor was painted black. I never met the previous inhabitants who painted the place black and I can only imagine what kind of lives they have gone onto. If perchance you had a house at 84 Alpharetta Street in Akron Ohio and you painted one of the bedrooms black please get hold of me and keep taking your Meds.
A married schoolteacher who kept the place as a place to sleep with his girl friend occupied the top floor. He was never there, but when he was he had to use the bathroom in out apartment; which was inconvenient at best. I member one night when Riki and I were tripping in the bath tub together and suddenly the door opened and the guy came in sat on the toilet and did his thing. At this time the walls were quivering and we were seeing those little light trails that you see on acid; and it was all pretty weird.
The house was huge. Sandy had the best place being on the ground floor and it just got steeper and narrower as it went up. There was a front porch that nobody ever went on.
It was changing from working class older white to lower class black. The two groups did not like each other or trust each other. In many ways the north is much more segregated than the south.
In the summer the black kids would get out this huge wrench that they had stolen from a fire truck and turn on the fire hydrants and play in the water. After an hour or so the firemen would show up and chase the kids off and shut down the fire hydrants and then after that they would leave the kids would turn them back on again. It was a fairly good-natured battle fought only on the hottest days of summer. I never saw any of the kids arrested and I never saw any violence toward the firemen.
In the winter it was a different battle. On the coldest days it seemed that there was only one car on each block that had a working battery. A battery loses half its strength at 32 degrees and drops incrementally down from there. So what would happen is that the one guy on the block who had a battery that would crank would start his car and then he would drive across the street to the next guy whose car would not










See also:

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bicycle traffic laws

trek women road bike

bike light

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mongoose bike 20

kid bicycle seat

duel suspension bike



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700c men's schwinn avenue hybrid bike

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