Concealed deep in the catacombs of Portland, Oregon, lies a magical utopia of enchantment and sensation. Where years worth of bravery and positive ambiances go to rest among cobwebs and controlled temperatures. For the few that know of this place, it is a black hole into the abyss of an appetite. For some, it is a place of to lose yourself for hours. For others, it’s a scrap yard.
While driving between shows in the Pacific Northwest, James Foster and I stopped at one of the best BMX shops in the area, Goods BMX. The owner, Shad, displays a bashguard BMX collection that rivals the best out there. He told us about a vault full of old BMX bikes, and the only way to see it is to be lucky. There is no phone number, no hours, and it isn’t open to the public. Shad pulled a few strings, and James and I received the magical golden ticket.
When we arrived at the two-story establishment, we were whisked into a dining parlor that housed racks of the rarest vintage BMX bicycle frames in existence. I quickly snapped a few pictures with the owner, Gary, and we retreated to dreamland.
My childhood exists in that basement. Memories roared back of countless hours spent in class devouring magazine articles and advertisements concealed between the pages of school books. I could name every bike that was on the deck of the first indoor skatepark I went to in 1993. All of them are present within the pictures. The bent forks connected to tarnished high-tensile steel scream of good times and fears overcome in backyards and parking lots all over the world.
It’s wild to see a one-off custom-built frame for a legendary rider next to a washing machine, but it’s 1,000 percent better than losing it to a scrap yard. I wish I could tell you how to get a meeting. Instead, I can only offer you the next best thing: Check out BMXmuseum.com, as the owner of the collection runs the site and is trying to amass the largest library of BMX bicycles in the world. And then check out some of my photos right here: