Junk Bond  Books for a nickel. Microwave magnets for a buck.
Uptown's most assiduous dumpster diver knows there's gold in the
garbage.  From the street, the ramshackle two-story home looks a
touch out of place, nestled amid the carefully tended properties
that dominate a tony neighborhood just east of Lake Calhoun in
Minneapolis. Vines crawl up the faded stucco exterior all the
way to the attic windows, where big, haphazardly stacked
cardboard boxes press against the panes. Branches from sprawling
shrubs partially screen the front porch. They do not, however,
conceal the evidence of the homeowner's passion. The porch is
piled with bits of scrap metal, used lumber, tattered furniture,
a well-worn wheelchair, a dead lawn mower--and, off to the side,
three very rusty women's bicycles. If there were a breeze, a
visitor might half expect the wind chimes to tinkle out the
theme from Sanford and Son.  Inside, narrow sunbeams pierce the
gaps between the window shades, dimly illuminating a bounty that
dwarfs the piles