All of us had our gangs growing up, the neighbourhood turks we played ball hockey with, or hung out with at school, or who were always good for a spare dime or nickel for a Lola at the local variety store.
My gang hailed from darkest Etobicoke, where we would race through parks on our 10-speed bikes and make crazy little films of it all with my dad's hand-cranked 16-mm camera. The more kids and bikes and dogs we could muster, the better.
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