COFFEE , CHROME AND CAPE TOWN

Cape Town has a way of pulling you in. The mountains press down from one side, the ocean gnaws from the other, and in between is a city alive with noise, salt, and the smell of petrol. This past weekend I kicked the bike to life, let the throttle echo off Long Street’s walls, and chased two things Cape Town does best—coffee and character.

First stop: **The House of Machines**. If you ride, you know it. If you don’t, you’ve heard of it. A bar, a workshop, a stage, a coffee temple—it’s all of it, wrapped in dim lights and rock ‘n’ roll. I pushed through the door, and was met with that familiar blend of dark beans and the espresso machine spat steam like a small locomotive.

I ordered a double espresso that hit harder than a left hook. Fuel for the road, but also for the soul.

From there, it was a quick rip through the city streets to **Tommy’s Chop Shop**—a different kind of cathedral. No mood lighting, no polish. Just racks of gear, and the smell of canvas, leather, and whisky. Every corner felt like it had been touched by the road—maps, knives, jackets, packs—tools for living, not just looking. In the back a whisky bar where stories hung heavier than reality.

A place where wanderers gear up, strip down to essentials, and head back into the wild.

By the time I got home, the city was still humming in my chest. The House of Machines gave me the kick, Tommy’s Chop Shop reminded me why we build and why we ride. And in the spaces between caffeine and craft, Vagabond found another story worth writing.

This isn’t just a ride. This isn’t just coffee. It’s Cape Town—raw, restless, and alive beneath two wheels.

By the time I got home, the city was still humming in my chest. The House of Machines gave me the kick, Tommy’s Chop Shop reminded me why we build and why we ride. And in the spaces between caffeine and craft, Vagabond found another story worth writing.