Scorching Bay

A hot summer day, a car, and a friend.

Scorching Bay.

Scorching hot.

Coming to Scorching Bay is like arriving in the 50's. Little wooden houses, beach visitors under umbrellas. I always feel like bringing a transistor radio and a wooden basket with picnic food.

Instead I cool down with a milkshake, a thickshake, or a milkshake deluxe (with a whole chocolate bar "mixed the bejezuz out of"). Café Scorch-O-Rama are not too concerned about the obesity problem of New Zealand.











































Nor concerned about being to kitschy.