The Chicken Coop and The Garage

When I was pretty young, not sure of the age, I spent lots of time at my grandparents' house.  An old white farmhouse.  Trails in the orchard out back.  Lake down one of the wider trails.  And of course I took it all for granted.

There were two other buildings there that I credit for subliminally shaping my future life. 

My grandpa's garage.  No garage door, ever, but it had two small rooms in the back- which I'll describe in a second.  It had a huge tank which for awhile was used to pump gas.  Yeah, he had his own gas delivered in bulk.  Pretty hardcore to think about today, but this was PA, and he was a former farmer and snowplow driver, so who knows.  Just to the right when you entered the door was an old barrel- that was where the odd named spray cans went.  WD-40, Liquid Wrench...

Back in those two rooms were old dressers- drawers filled with nuts and bolts and stuff.  And the rooms were chock full of old stuff.  And not in nice neat boxes, but just full of stuff.  Old "Operation" game from the 60s?  Yes.  Unattached toilet?  Yep.  And everything in between.

And the second building was a former chicken coop (I think) that my uncle had taken over.  It was usually locked, but we always tried the window- and sometimes it was open.  Inside the walls were covered with rock posters (I think I remember Janis Joplin) and a motorcycle.  I thought it was the coolest little building I'd ever seen.  Like a clubhouse or treehouse, but so much cooler.  And you could lock it!  I could bore you with the family history in that place and the garage too, but that's not what I'm after.

I think I've been searching ever since for those two rooms.  The photo above is of Heidi Swift's Bike Area.  She's a writer/photographer in Portland, OR whose blog I read occasionally, and when I saw that picture it took me instantly back- like so many garage photos do. 

I want (and have had on many levels) to recreate that chicken coop.  A place fully dedicated to my bikes and where I could have a scooter or two.  Posters and race numbers on the walls.  And the only thing stopping me is permanence.  Any place we live I feel like I shouldn't put down roots, that I shouldn't get too attached.

I suppose that starts to get into family stuff again, doesn't it?  How I've moved so far away from my family, and now have new family here. 

But I want to go on a little more about that place.  How you should make one if you don't have one.  Or cherish and polish it if you do have one.  There's a lot of talk lately about "Man Caves".  Whatever, but there's a place for the workshop... whatever you call it and whoever uses it.  No matter what size it is, it is a part of the bike experience, and you're missing out a little bit if you don't recognize and cherish that part of it.  Home base.