
James and I found our bicycles at a small shop in Christchurch, New Zealand. It was nestled between an op shop and a dairy and from the outside, it appeared to be an ordinary bike shop. Upon entering, we were greeted by a rainbow of shiny new bicycles with frightening price tags stapled around their handle-bars.

James and I needed bikes, but our pockets were empty. One of the shop workers saw the panic in our eyes and led us out the back door and into a well-kept shed in the yard. The bikes in the shed had a few rust spots, and many were beautiful vintage pieces. We did not find our bikes in the shed, they were still too pricey. After an excessive amount of pleading to the salesman, we were finally led into the belly of what turned out to be a quite expansive operation.

A whole garage was filled with piles and piles of bikes, some whole and some in bits and pieces. They were all covered in dust, rust and cobwebs. Our entering the garage must have set off some type of abrasive vibration in the shop, because our reluctant host was joined by a larger, rougher coworker. Throughout the next half hour, they both kept trying to coax us out of the garage.

I found my bike covered in spider webs about a quarter of the way in. The back tire was misshapen and the front one was flat. Nevertheless, I rode it out into the sun and around in circles, pleased with my find. After a bit of time lapsed, I began to lose hope that James would resurface with a bike. But at the very back, under a pile of rejects, James spotted his baby. We wheeled out quite a few bikes before we got to his, and for him it was love at first sight. The two shop workers were very reluctant to sell us the bikes, but eventually we got a killer deal and one of them even swapped out my bent tire.

James and I spent the next few weeks scrubbing, polishing and tinkering with our bikes. After a few beers and a bit of elbow grease, they both rode like a charm. And after a four month love affair with our vintage beauties, we just couldn’t part with them when we left for the States. They were packed away and now live at our house in Boulder Creek, California.
James’ dad Graeme took these beautiful photos of my bike shortly after we polished it up. I can’t wait to put one on my wall.