About 2 months ago on a lazy Saturday morning I was walking the streets of Redfern. Having recently moved into the area I was still getting my bearings, exploring streets and alleyways, cracks and crevices, in search of fine coffee,’ cheap food, interesting people and places.. I had been fascinated by the suburb for some time, drawn by the stigma surrounding it and the history it holds. After convincing my housemates to move to such a treacherous place and enduring the tedious task that is moving, It was neat to be able to call it ‘home’, to begin the process of getting acquainted and comfortable. On this particular day I had spent a significant amount of time perusing a second hand goods store, it was the sort of establishment that is a little bit like a store, a lot like somebodies house but mostly like a massive pile of hand me downs, items that were considered by their previous owners as worthless. The elderly man who owns the store (I still visit it regularly) is a flamboyant salesman and will gladly give you a detailed history of any item you happen to glance at. I had found a basket of sun glasses amongst the rubble and was lucky enough to get a pair of vintage ray bans for $10. It’s a special kind of feeling when one stumbles across such a bargain. I remember at the time, trying to conceal my joy with scornful reservation as though $10 was an exorbitant price. After venturing far beyond where I had intended, I decided I would gather the bevy of goodies I had acquired at the OP-shop and call it a day. I juggled the various items delicately and began peddling awkwardly up the busy street, still in bargain hunting mode my eyes fell upon something interesting sprawled out upon the footpath, at first I saw a bike, then what appeared to be a very old vintage fan, then another bike. All of the items were thickly coated in dust and nestled among other items of trash, milk crates, empty cardboard boxes and beer bottles. If it weren’t for this I may have assumed that the bikes belonged to patrons of a nearby cafe. Moving closer for further inspection, I glanced around nervously, still unsure as to whether or not the items were trash or treasure. I felt heavy glares from snooty cafe dwellers sipping lattes and reading lifestyle magazines. As I sheepishly assessed the goods, a man in an electric wheelchair glided up beside me, I had seen him around before, in fact one of my housemates may, or may not have had a slight verbal altercation with him at a certain pedestrian crossing one evening, I will not expound on this matter just now, in the interest of housemate confidentiality. The man gruffly exclaimed something incoherent (he had what I interpreted to be a thick Jamaican accent), for a moment I was sure that he was there to contend for the loot, but after a disjointed and frustrating conversation it became apparent that he was a divine being of some sort and that he simply wanted me to be aware of this. It was just as well, even at this early stage I had become possessive of the acquisition. Who knows what i would have done if he were to challenge me. Considering these things, I was experiencing the sensation perhaps best described as embarrassment; thankfully my desire to possess this posse of goodies surpassed the feelings of shame experienced when one pillages sidewalk bounties such as these. To make a long story slightly shorter, moments later I was walking the main street of Redfern carrying far more than any human should. I had two bikes, old, warn, used, stained and seasoned. Where had they been? How had they arrived in such a ruinous situation. Had they been superseded by more technologically advanced vehicles, constructions of carbon fibre and advanced plastics? Had their previous owners lost the desire for cycling or furthermore, physical activities in general? Whatever the case may be, I now had the opportunity to give them a second lease on life. The journey of these bicycles will remain a mystery to you and I, perhaps this is the best thing about owning something old, it releases us to dream and wonder. I like imagine these bikes have seen the world, whizzed through grimy suburban streets, conquered rolling hills of the countryside. I imagine they have known sweat and blood, rain and shine, heat and the cold, scorn and delight. I imagine that their journey is far from ending but rather just beginning.
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