Trade NamesThere have been many twists and turns in the road for Joe Daly Cycles but the shop, where Stephen Roche bought his first bike, has remained true to its Dundrum roots, writes Rose Doyle

Bikes, for Joe Daly, are what life is about. He sells and repairs them, talks about and cycles them, organises social events around them, fraternises with and supports the professional and wider cycling population, has attended the Isle of Man TT racing for 31 years and, famously, spent 55 years dealing and weaving bikes into the community and culture of his native place in Dundrum.

And now, after a couple of involuntary moves as the neighbourhood grew and developed around his bicycle shop, Joe Daly, with his son David Tansey, is headed for a dynamic new venture just metres from where it all began in 1951.

There's an apposite coming together of the old and the new Dundrum as he sets up shop in an architecturally designed, cylinder shaped, silver clad futuristic looking building, sure to become a landmark at the foot of the area's spectacular bridge. (Sean Deaton of architects Sean Deaton and Lysaght was its designer.)

"Brave?" Joe Daly is dismissive. "Mad maybe. It's been a bit of an ambition, really, for years. This new shop is a terribly big undertaking. The new roads went through me and I could have closed the business when the Compulsory Purchase Order came along but I decided I wanted to stay in business for the family's sake. And my own. Bikes have been my life."

He stands looking at the vigorous mural of ranked, helmeted cyclists on the hoarding around the nearly completed building. "Students in Dundrum College did that," he's proud, possessive even of local talent. "They're great. My son, Francis Tansey, who's an artist, had the idea of a competition and the students came up with the overall design and painted it. The Bank of Ireland helped out too."

Joe Daly is hailed by everyone as he walks along; goodwill has always abounded toward him in Dundrum. We pass a monument to cyclist/local hero Stephen Roche. "I got that erected in 1993/94," says Joe, "collected the money all around."

In the Main Street premises he's been operating out of since 2001 he fills in a bit more of his, and Dundrum's, story. "This building used be a post office. When I was 12 or 13 I was offered a job here, delivering telegrams. But they couldn't take me on because I didn't have a bike. Later on it became a bookies."

He was born in Holles Street, bred in Dundrum by his aunt, Ellen Daly, whose name he took. "I was Tansey but took her name," he's matter of fact. "I went to the old Dundrum school on Ballinteer Road. I lived across the road from it. This was a great place to grow up, it was the countryside then. Great people and a great place.

"I served my time in Mellons Garage. They were like a family to me. I did everything; drove a taxi, did cycle repairs and looked after the bicycle section. While I was there I went to Ringsend Tech for five years, three nights a week doing mechanical engineering, welding, electrical and workshop practice."

In 1951 he opened his own shop, "where the new bridge is now, by the side of the old Harcourt Street line". He has pictures, of a small detached bike shop with wheels and smiling faces under a sign announcing Joe Daly, late of Mellons. He has a framed penny piece. "That's the first penny we ever took in," he says, "from a Mr Gleeson from Balally for a valve rubber. It was 3d. The other 2d. disappeared."

He has photographs of himself with the famous and with politicians, with President Mary McAleese and former president Cearbhaill Ó Dálaigh. And he has a guest/customer book, recent enough in origin, signed by Russians and Costa Ricans, Australians and Bangladeshis, Americans and Belgians. "We've connections all over the place," he says, "you'd be surprised! We've a third generation of customers coming in here too."

For all that it's been a bumpy enough ride. "When the road came down from Churchtown in 1972 it went right through me," Joe says, "a big disruption so I moved a bit further down to the main Dundrum road." To where the new premises now is, in fact. He was moved along again "after September 11th, 2001 when the main road and the bridge came through. We moved in here then. This place had been a launderette and was completely in bits, water had leaked but my son Francis did a lot of work on it." We do a tour of the two-storey building, bikes to right and left of us, hanging above us, rothar sleibhe/mountain bikes and racing bikes as well as teannairi/pumps, locks, chains and helmets, too, because they also sell accessories. Customers come and chat and go.

David Tansey, a mechanical engineer and every inch his father's son, is affable and busy. The mood is relaxed. Business is good. "It's more like a club than a shop," says Joe. "We're just finished with the annual bike race. A classic, the Stephen Roche Grand Prix. Stephen Roche bought his first bike from me. Orwell Wheelers are the local club, there's about 75 girls and fellas in it. That's the club Stephen Roche was registered with, now his son's registered with them. Grand fella, he hopes to ride for Ireland in the Olympic Games."

Joe Daly sold radios, TVs, small motorbikes and bikes when he opened in 1951. In 1955, he married his wife, Kathleen, sadly deceased. "We were 50 years together," he says, "having her behind me was great." They had six children, three daughters and three sons. "She was from Kimmage," Joe says. "I used run dances up by Simpson's hospital, two bob to get in, from 8pm to 11.30pm. I met her at one of them."

In the 1950s with his brother-in-law he erected TV aerials. "But there was no money in it, there as no RTÉ then. I used do hire purchase bikes, 5/- a week. A good bike cost about £16 to buy, dear enough. They're cheaper now, comparatively speaking. Nearly everyone had a bike then, doctor or tailor. We always did repairs. A chap called Tony Gillies worked with me and we'd a book-keeper called Edward Joyce.

"Raleigh and Hercules were the bikes most used, either single-speed or basic three-speed models. I rode a three-speed during the war but never owned a racing bike myself. Bikes have from 18 to 27 gears now and design's changed completely. They're lighter and easier to push. There were lots of women cyclists in the 1950s. All changed now, all the young girls want cars these days."

He remembers people getting "a bit better off" and auto-bikes coming in around the mid-1950s. "NSU, Quigley, Honda. The Cycle-Master was a thing you put on the back wheel and the bike became a motor bike. It was bought on hire purchase and cost £32. A Honda 50 cost £89. Bikes became popular again during the 1960s. The Stephen Roche, Sean Kelly, Paul Kimmage era of the 1980s made them very popular. There's been a lot of change in the cycle trade."

He's served as a local counsellor and is passionate about conditions for cyclists. "There should be better facilities for looking after bikes, there's a lot of bicycle stealing going on. We need more bicycle lanes too." He and Kathleen reared their family on nearby Westbrook Road. "The girls cycled," he says, "but weren't so mad about it as the boys. Bernadette has her own business in the UK, Catherine is a draughtsperson and Clare's a chemist. My son, Frances, is one of the country's best artists and my oldest, Paul, rode 15 times for Ireland. He's a chiropractor and will use the top floor of the new premises. The middle will be offices and the bikes will be on the ground floor with a showroom. There's parking and a basement too.

"David worked in Taiwan, Japan, Hong Kong and then came back; he looks after the racing crowd. He'll carry on the business."