I first learned of Bicycle Habitat, which would become my "go-to" shop, while pedaling the canyons of downtown Manhattan, a Globe Canvas messenger bag loaded with packages, documents and even the occasional food delivery, slung across my body. The shop, on Lafayette Street, was strategically located for messengers like me who shuttled between the studios, galleries, professional offices and businesses of Soho and Midtown and the traders, brokers, bankers and lawyers in and around Wall Street and the World Trade Center.
Habitat had another location in Chelsea--ironically, just two blocks from its current Chelsea shop. But Charlie McCorkle, an owner and founding partner, once told me that even though the Lafayette shop was much smaller, it did more business than the Chelsea locale--in part, because of messengers like me. Another factor was the American Youth Hostels headquarters, where I would work after quitting the delivery business. People would sign up for an AYH bike tour and we'd send them to Habitat for equipment--and, sometimes, even a bicycle. (Believe it or not, some people didn't yet have a bike when they signed up for a tour!) But after AYH moved uptown, the bulk of the Lafayette Street's location came from messengers and transportation cyclists.
I am recalling that now because of a news item that brings to mind a phenomenon I've noticed. In neighborhoods where people ride their bikes for fitness or recreation--or commute on two wheels when they have other options--it's not hard to find a bike shop. For example, when I lived in Park Slope, Brooklyn, four shops served an area within a one-mile radius of my apartment. A similar ratio exists around my current residence in Astoria, Queens. But if I venture into, say, Elmhurst, East New York or most Bronx neighborhoods, shops are fewer and farther between, if they exist at all. And, in such neighborhoods, cyclists are as likely as not to be riding for transportation, and to be on bikes that are in more dire need of repair.
So it is in some Native American nations. The Navajo nation encompasses an area about 50 times as large as the five boroughs of New York City and is home to about 333,000 people. Cycling there is described as a "way of life": While some ply the nearby terrain on mountain bikes for fun, many more depend on their bikes for transportation. Yet, there isn't a single bike shop. If someone needs a bike repaired, he or she has to travel as far as Gallup, New Mexico--an hours' drive away.
If Silver Stallion Bicycle & Coffee Works were near me, I'd go to it for its name alone! But they are in Gallup. A non-profit organization, their mission is "to empower and develop youth and young adults vocational skills in the bicycle repair and specialty coffee industries." In keeping with that, the folks of Silver Stallion are going into Dine lands and fixing Navajos' bikes for free.
Because the work is considered a form of COVID-19 relief, the New Mexico Economic Development Department gave Silver Stallion a grant to cover expenses. In addition, the Southwest Indian Foundation donated a delivery truck and the Catena Foundation gave Stallion a grant to cover the truck's operating costs. And Stans-Pivot Pro Team mechanic Myron Billy travelled to Gallup to outfit the truck as a mobile bike shop. Stans No Tubes, Clif Bar and other companies donated parts and equipment.
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| Myron Billy. Photo by Shaun Price |
Along with the donated parts, repairs were also done with parts "cannibalized" from other bikes. The most common repairs involved freeing-up seized freehubs, replacing cables and "sliming" tubes to protect them against the abundant "goatheads."
To continue this effort--which, in addition to providing repairs, is also imparting skills and mentorship to young people--Silver Stallion is seeking donations. They are providing a valuable service, not only for folks who ride bikes as a way to cope with the COVID pandemic, but also to get to clinics for vaccinations and other medical care.
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