And God said, let there be motorbikes

South Australia No Comment

For two days at Angeline’s Bondi Bed and Breakfast, we had rested our weary heads on Egyptian cotton sheets, washed our dusty limbs under showers which were like the quality of mercy that falls from heaven upon the place beneath, snuggled into fluffy cotton towels and salved our dry throats in the morning with free-range organic Colombian coffee which had been picked then hand-knitted by blind widows on the slopes above Bogota who had then been killed to take their secrets with them to the grave.

Out the back you could see the ocean, and out the front was a park which was busy from dawn to dusk with children and adults alike playing sport, confirming my belief that Australia is the healthiest nation on earth.

Sadly, after two days swanning around at Angeline’s, some paying customers arrived and we had to return to the real world in the shape of the Sydney Harbour Youth Hostel, but even that proved to be a far cry from the youth hostels of my youth, with shiny staff, matching rooms and even en-suite bathrooms, for heaven’s sake.

“Can’t understand why they don’t have the rooms closer to the front door. And why you have to go up steps then down again to get to them,” said Colin as we carried the bags in.

“Oh do stop moaning, you bloody whingeing Aussie drongo,” I said cheerfully, then perked him up by taking him over to Deus Ex Machina.

All devotees of Greek and Latin drama, which I’m sure includes all of you, will know that this means God from the machine, and is a device used by crap playwrights when they realise they’ve only got one minute to go in the last act and no denouement in sight.

Solution: enter God left with magic wand, and all sorted.

He’d certainly been busy inside Deus, I thought as we wandered around looking at bog standard bikes which had been transformed into works of art.

The men behind this magic include Dare Jennings, who used to run the surf clothing giant Mambo before he and a couple of friends started Deus in 1996, and head of sales Shaun Zammit,

“Here, are your parents from the planet Krypton, or do you guys just pick your names out of a Superman comic?” I said to Shaun as we stood looking at a Triumph Thruxton, already my favourite bike in the world, which the mechanics at Deus had made even faster and more beautiful, a thing I had previously thought impossible.

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” said Shaun, whose parents turned out in fact to have been from Malta and Yorkshire.

“Fair enough. And how much will you sell me this for?”

“To you, $40,000, although we might take your Tiger in part exchange.”

I sighed deeply, and bought a T-shirt from the sale rack instead.

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