We'd been living in Hawke's Bay only a few months before the barbecue and bike were stolen.
The retired cooker was rusted, covered in grease and functioned well as a cockroach farm. I don't believe in karma, but good luck to anyone who then ate anything grilled atop that festering plate. The last laugh was ours.
But the theft of the mountain bike wasn't a laughing matter.
That trusty steed endured for years as I biked up the near vertical Ngauranga Gorge every day after work in Wellington. I also once set it a near impossible task of completing the Karapoti Classic Mountainbike Race. One of the very few cycles without shocks, the bike held up beautifully in the 5-hour alpine contest.
The last time I saw it was when I left her at the back of our St Leonards home. Regrettably, I'd forgotten to lock it.