Wellington is the capital of New Zealand, but people usually get that wrong. They think it's Auckland. Fair enough: Auckland's population cracks a million, Wellington doesn't even make half that. It's small. But it's not boring. Toby Kepes and his crew of never-do-well but always-do-fine mates know that.
They skate empty car parks or schools during daylight and go to the drags at night. In the summer they'll go to a wharf and jump in the ocean. Typical dirtbag shit. Except for their penchant for the sport of retired conservatives: golf.
There's a lot of smoking too—at friend's houses, in garages, anywhere outside with a view. Last month, an out-of-towner paid Toby and his mates $100 so he could ride around with them for ten minutes and "feel young again," before asking to be dropped off at a brothel. If you wanted to feel like a kid again, Wellington is place to do it, and these are the boys to do it with.
The picture Toby paints of Wellington might sound dirty, and it kinda is. But that doesn't stop it from being beautiful. In fact, Toby's world is almost wholesome, when you discount the Arizona bongs and the burnouts.