Today I had a bike ride and lunch with Steve Roach, the Detroit director for the League of Michigan Bicyclists.

I took him on a little route past my favorite local downtown Detroit goat farm. As we’re checking out the goats, a baby goat comes strolling down the sidewalk and gave us a baby Bahhh. The small goat had clearly escaped.

This definitely raised the interest of the other goats, one of whom we guessed was the mom.

While trying to approach the baby goat, it awkwardly ran back to where it presumably escaped through the fence.

I softly grabbed him and carried him over to where the fence was the shortest. The other goats followed us and we definitely interested in the goat-break 2009. I lowered the baby back in the fenced area.

I asked Steve if he had anticipated us rescuing goats during today’s ride. Ah, no.

One of the truly great things about biking in Detroit, is it’s not the same ol’route. There’s always something special to see, whether it’s an event, a historic happening, or what not.

With the very sad news of Michael Jackson’s death, I hoped on the bike and headed south to the Motown Museum. At the museum was a crowd of fans filling the lawn and with cars crowding Grand Boulevard.

The museum had photos of Michael Jackson and the Jackson 5 in the storefront windows which people were lined up and waiting to see.

Beneath the window was a collection of stuff toys, flowers, and personal cards.

I rode back past the Museum the next day, a Saturday, and the crowd was even larger.

My photos from the Motown Museum are on-line.

A Wendy's cup, Slim Jim wrapper, melted ice cream, and a wig. Are these clues or just an unrelated pile of crap in the road? Hmmmm.

My friend Lisa uploads photos of interesting flora and fauna she sees during her bike rides.

If I were to do the same, I’d have many photos of wigs on the road in Detroit and Highland Park. On a ride last weekend I saw two.

The obvious question is why?

I cannot imagine the wigs are being intentionally abandoned by the wearer. Still, I can see wanting to remove a wig on a hot, humid day, but it seems you could stuff it in a pocket or purse.

If I were to start recording the GPS coordinates for each hairpiece, I may be able to detect a pattern.

Am I sure this is not just a dead critter? Sure, that’s easy. There are no flies or odor. Well, I should say not as many flies and odor.

So now I’m thinking of starting a photo collection. I’m not sure a web site devoted to Road Wigs is necessary at this point, but you never know.

I won’t harp on about the preservation of Tiger Stadium and the abrupt plans to demo it all. Others have done a fine job of that already.

And it was picked up in the national news.

But I have made my donation to the Old Tiger Stadium Consevancy.

And last night I biked to a last-minute vigil for her near the corner of Michigan and Trumbull with about 50 others and a good number familiar faces. There was just a lot of frustration and a couple conspiracy theories. Why this and why now?

After a while, the crowd dispersed with many heading to nearby Nancy Whiskey. I pedaled home. It was a great night to ride, but the temperature was dropping through the 40s.

That didn’t keep the ladies off Woodward just north of McNichols, one of whom yelled, “Ride that bike!” Sure thing.

Not much further away, I stopped at Dutch Girl Donuts for a snack. I ordered just one and entered into a discussion on donuts at the small counter. Some round donuts came up fresh and they gave me a couple freebies.  Yes, these are the best donuts in town and they’re open 24/6.  Yeah, they’re closed on Sundays.

I was just biking down Woodward minding my own business when a stray golf ball from the Palmer Park Golf Course brushed against my upper arm.

The ball clinked hard on the pavement and continued bouncing north across Woodward Avenue.

Not a good shot. Not a playable ball.