Every bike has a story, and so do the people who fix them.

As customers step into Cycle Depot, Pam Allchorn looks up, smiling in greeting before returning to an interested customer. In the back workshop, Pam’s husband and business partner, Mark, stands in front of an organized wall of tools, and their golden doodles, Cleo and Miles, weave between legs, angling for a scratch behind the ears from customers.

Over the years, this corner shop has been more than a place to fix a flat; it’s become a hub of the community. For the Allchorns, Cycle Depot was never just about bicycles; it was the result of a partnership built on adventure.

“I lived over in England for two years,” Pam recalls. “That’s where I met him.”

“I had a kennel and stables in Heacham in England, in the county of Norfolk,” Mark explains. “Heacham’s claim to fame is John Rolfe, who married Pocahontas and built the estate for her to live on. I took control of it when I was 20. Then I sold the servants’ quarters to the sole importer of Kodak in the United Kingdom. Pam brought her dog over to the UK to live with her, and she used me as her boarding kennel.”

Later, Pam moved back to the U.S., but Mark couldn’t stay away.

“I managed to get a few days together and surprised her,” he says.

He showed up unannounced and had to play detective in the days before GPS and smartphones.

“I knew the address and the name of the street,” he remembers. “But it didn’t feature on any maps. I knew there was a Schnucks. I’d sent her flowers from there. So I thought there’s only one of them, surely.”

There wasn’t. The first florist sent him to a different Schnucks two miles away. He followed the thread, eventually turning up at Pam’s doorstep and catching her by surprise.

“I was in the middle of dyeing my hair,” she says. “I slammed the door in his face and ran out of the room screaming.”

At the time, she lived in O’Fallon, Missouri. Their reunion was dramatic, and unforgettable. Later, the two visited Elephant Rocks State Park.

“He jumped to a rock, and I said, ‘If you fall and hurt yourself, your mom and dad will kill me,'” Pam says.

“I just jumped from one rock to the other,” Mark admits. “And as I committed, my vision went flippity click. I realized the rock was not as close as I thought, and I landed hard.”

Pam drove Mark to the hospital where he received a series of X-rays.

“All of a sudden, the double doors burst open and people ran in shouting, ‘Don’t move!’ My blood ran cold, and I knew then I’d broken my back,” Mark says.

“They gave him morphine, and that’s when it came out,” Pam says grinning. “He told me he loved me. Up until that time, I did not know.”

“The whole relationship is just based on drugs,” Mark jokes.

While building a life in Missouri, Mark completed his Green Card application two weeks before 9/11. As they waited, there were years of cross-Atlantic flights and paperwork, selling Mark’s home and business in England, and reinventing himself in the United States.

“It was a struggle at times, but we’ve always known we’re on the same page,” Mark says. “We just worked toward what needed to happen.”

For a time, the couple debated which business path to follow. Pam considered turning her love for floristry into a business. They also weighed possibilities in the horse world. But as Mark puts it, “the bicycles won.”

Pam and Mark have always been skilled with their hands.

“Pam is a fantastic mechanic,” Mark says with admiration. “Her dad told her, ‘You’re never going to be stranded. If it needs fixing, this is how you do it.’ She was the one fixing cars, stripping motors down, and changing stuff in them.”

“[Mark] decided he wanted to learn how to build bicycles,” Pam laughs. “So we shipped him off to Oregon. Mark spent months at the Bicycle Technologies Institute and earned industry certifications. At the time, he was one of 300 mechanics worldwide certified by DT Swiss to build their wheels. We’re also Bosch and Shimano-registered for E-bikes.”

Eventually, the Allchorns learned the Hartsburg Cycle Depot was for sale. The original shop was opened by Karen Rotts in 1996. This year, Pam and Mark will have owned it for 23 years, and the Jefferson City location will celebrate 20 years in the fall. The two will also celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary on May 6.

Their combined expertise has made Cycle Depot much more than a place to buy bikes. They’ve built bamboo bikes, restored heirloom frames, and converted cruisers into electric rides for older cyclists.

“We don’t just sell bikes,” Pam says. “We fix anything with wheels: walkers, strollers, even mobility scooters.”

Their know-how, even in teaching other local mechanics, has earned them a devoted following.

“We’ve got customers who first came in as kids, and now they bring their own children,” Pam notes.

Family has also shaped them profoundly. Mark’s last parent passed away in 2025, closing a chapter that saw them living out their dream. Years of hard work, self-reliance, and resourcefulness have run throughout Pam and Mark’s lives. As they prepare for both business and marriage milestones this year, Pam and Mark are finally allowing themselves to have more time for personal hobbies and vacations.

“Up until now, we were always focused on keeping the shop running and staying open,” Pam says. “Now, we’re going to start trying to treat ourselves a little bit better.”

In addition to running their business, they have also been active community members: both served on the committee for the pedestrian walkway on the Missouri River Bridge, and Pam has been active in educating the community on safe electric-bike use.

“We’re really, and we take pride in this, a hub for the whole community,” Pam concludes.