There’s a tiny bike repair shop next door, run by an older couple who live in the back of the long, narrow space. Everyday, you can find a few bikes in various states of disrepair lined up in front of the shop-that-almost-isn’t-a-shop – it’s as inconspicuous a place as you can find. The shop owner has probably been here for decades; those who know him, know how to find him. He works hard, everyday. This rainy morning, I found this motorbike in the fray. I particularly love the reflection of the shops amber awning in the mirror.