DENVER, CO. almost every bicycle space i’ve visited–collective, non-profit, cooperative–has addressed the issue of the bicycle repair shop as a commonly male-oriented or dominated space. the solution has been to initiate women’s-only hours for periodic dates in the repair shop space. the event is usually described as “ladies only” or “women & trans night”, or more creatively as “S.P.I.N (Super Power Inclusion Night)” or “Bicycle Bitchen”. in LA, Bicycle Bitchen has been so successful that the event has gone from happening monthly to bi-monthly and now to weekly as interest and attendance grew. the founders say it is a success and continues to empower women by offering a space to help each other and talk shop without a patriarchal environment where men tend to dominate bicycle knowledge. even for women that feel comfortable during normal business hours, women’s hours provide a safe and comfortable environment where women turn to women with questions and advice.

in tucson, BICAS has just recently in the past six months developed their “ladies only” day, opening the shop on sundays from 1-5pm exclusively for women. some of the organizers at BICAS say the program has had a noticeable effect as they now see more women coming into the shop during regular hours after gaining more repair skills and feeling more comfortable with their knowledge.

this idea of creating a women and gender-queer space is important to changing the gender dynamic of the bicycle repair space and working to fight oppression. it will be a significant focus in my documentary as i hope the idea will spread to other projects and perhaps into the thinking of those who trying to create more equal community spaces.

TUCSON, AZ. i’m leaving tucson in the morning after spending three full days with BICAS. this place is amazing, and yes: everyone had told me so. i will return here one day, hopefully soon, and continue this project. the best part about BICAS is it’s focus on education and creating a community center. and they’ve done that, and in a basement of an artists’ studio building. thank you to the warm and hospitable people of BICAS. i’m off now to denver to see the kids from the Derailer again. chicago is getting closer…

LOS ANGELES, CA. i arrived on sunday and shot on sunday. a good reason to always have my camera and extra video tape with me (which hasn’t always happened, unfortunatly). the bicycle kitchen, or bici coicina, reminds me of most other bicycle collectives i’ve seen, although more organized and better staffed. store front space, recycled bicycles everywhere, six stands, three walls of tools, bicycles and wheels hanging from the ceiling. i met a handful of the volunteer mechanics on sunday and monday, and last night taped kelly and ma bell during Bicycle Bitchen, the women’s-only night at the bicycle kitchen. this was the first time i’ve interviewed anyone specifically about a women’s-only space in a bike collective, but this is a topic that i am very eager to get into and will be including in the documentary. every bicycle collective i’ve visited holds a women’s and transgendered event, usually weekly or bi-weekly.

tonight i interview a few of the founders of the bicycle kitchen, and then head out of this sprawling city while the traffic is mild. next stop is tucson, arizona.

i’m not really looking forward to driving into los angeles. but a few things make it worth it: 75 degree weather, beaches, and the bicycle kitchen. this is the eighth bicycle collective/cooperative i will have met, with one more in tucson, arizona. it’s been over four months on the road and over 4,000 miles traveled.

it was a difficult goodbye at the bike church yesterday. i grabbed a few more shots of the new immaculate space, complete with fresh paint, dozens of bikes, parts and tools, and exhausted but satisfied volunteers. of all the bicycle collectives i have documented, i have spent the most time, by far, at the bike church in santa cruz. i hope to get some footage and photos up here soon, and notes on what i have learned. but if you could see me now–sitting in my truck in the parking lot of a days inn next to highway 101–then you might understand this moment. i’m still on an amazing trip complete with bicycles and new friends, mountains and oceans, hitchhikers and highways; but, yes: i can’t wait to get home.

SANTA CRUZ, CA. just as i begin typing this i spill tea all over myself. i’m in a coffee shop so i’m embarrassed looking like i peed in my pants. oh, well. i shot more footage today of the bike church building their new home. they will be renting what was once a tire shop and an illegal tattoo parlor on the corner of pacific & spruce. much more space, including offices for people power and ped ex santa cruz. it is a successful story of a bike collective finding a new home in which to grow. they are rebuilding the space themselves, framing walls, hanging drywall, building doors and partitions. pretty amazing. so many of the other bike collective’s i’ve visited have outgrown their space or face future gentrification, i.e. the derailer and the bike kitchen, respectively. the derailer currently runs out of the garage in a denver house rented by a handful of young, enthusiastic people who also coordinate a local food not bombs from their kitchen.

the new, unopened bike church is filled daily with volunteers to help renovate the space. they are still raising money to pay for the project, but money is secondary to getting the space open in time for the new year according to josh muir, one of the founders of the bike church. the old repair shop has already been closed to begin moving equipment and tools. tomorrow i have an interview with josh and quentin, two of the founders. and then wednesday i fly to north carolina for the holidays. i haven’t even stopped to realize it’s that time of year. and the fact that i’m walking around in a t-shirt during the day… it’s going to be hard to go back to chicago.

BERKELEY, CA. i spent last night making cookies and videotaping conversations with the four workers at Pedal Express in berkeley, california. we had a list of twelve questions printed out, but only a few were asked directly; the rest of the questions were answered indirectly through our discussions on buisness structures, class issues, salary, health care, politics, and even urban gardening. it was the most informal, unscripted video interview i’ve done, and because of this, it felt the most real and open. most of the footage may be difficult to fit into a short documentary on bike collectives and co-ops, but it is nevertheless invaluable for future projects. while shooting last night, i thought about a potential project documenting conversations on alternative life choices and cultures–a cross-section of thoughts and opinions on work, class, human environment, peak oil, etc, from people of my generation, the current young workforce and future shape of the western world to come. maybe it’s a day dream project all idealistic documentarians get, but it seems pretty simple and gathering footage can be done anywhere, anytime. leave a comment if you have a thought on this…

so anyway, i also taped a bicycle cargo delivery by PedEx: cynthia, a courier from pedex, hauled a big metal desk with a Hauler, a trailer built by Human Powered Machines in eugene, oregon. i rode in a Blue Sky trailer pulled by foresta, the ever-so-kind messenger from pedex who has been incredibly helpful. the footage should soon be up on this site once i download it from tape.

PORTLAND, OR.

SANTA CRUZ, CA. standing outside the Bicycle Church, i see the quintessential community bike shop: bike stands here and there taking up space in a parking lot, bicycle frames and people scattered throughout. there are only two volunteers from what i can tell, and there are many patient bodies standing with their bicycles waiting for help. i also see a huge parts bin in the lot, filled with nuts and bolts and chains and cranks and everything else bicycle. tools are freely distributed to those who need them, and the volunteers are showing the bicycle owners how to fix their problems instead of doing it for them. the Bicycle Church requests users pay a donation, five dollar per hour if possible. inside the small indoor shop, enough room for only a couple bikes, pumps, and tools, the air smells of grease and sweat. i hear the clangs of metal against metal. running in and out of the shop, the volunteers are doing the work of ten people. and they are doing it well, i should add. periodically, i pitch in and answer a question from a bicyclist or help bead a tire or find a wrench. there’s no nagging salesperson, no stuffy owner, and no one around is in a rush. everyone seems to be here to learn or share. this environment is such a characteristic here: no attitude, no master/consumer hierarchy, no ownership or pretension. this area is for bicyclists and belongs to no one, but to all.

DENVER, CO. my 1976 toyota chinook truck shakes itself to a stall-out at stop lights. the altitude! of course… i’m a mile high in aurora, a suburb of denver. i ask for some advice at a local auto garage and we figure out how to tune the engine for high altitude. later, i drive into the city and waste gas looking for some way to get aquianted with this place. i stop in a few coffee shops, most are closing by now (8pm), but i get directions to St. Mark’s on east 17th. i talk to a couple strangers. copy info from a flyer for a house show at “le crunk manor.” not much to denver, i think to myself. i sleep in my truck parked across the street and wake up the next day with an email message from someone in boulder who needs demolition workers. good bye, denver.

the drive into boulder is nice… mountain backdrop, small(er) city. the demo is lots of excavating, knocking down walls, and removing old insulation in a historic-register house. i find old newspaper in the walls from 1892 and split wood slates from old crates. they had such a way of building back then. at the end of the first day, i express to the other two workers how i didn’t find anything i liked about denver. eric, another worker, recommends i check out Water Course, a vegetarian restaurant in the city… there’s good people there, he says. i work another day, and quit after that to return to denver for a painting job i had found a week before leaving Chicago. i drive the long route along the foothills to the Rockies and through golden, colorado–home of Coors beer. i saw the giant factory looming over the small, antique city of golden. i slept in a hotel parking lot that night, but couldn’t get a wireless internet signal from the two hotels in the vicinity. i videotaped the moon and the dark blue sky and fell asleep with my window open and the curtains shifting back and forth.

the next morning, i walk into one of the hotels and eat a hearty continental breakfast (complimentary!) and then head to the hardware store to rent a ten-foot ladder. painting… i paint from 11-7pm. lots of cutting and rolling in the stairwell of this cozy townhouse in Lakewood, another suburb. i received a voicemail from my mom about a friend of her’s about 30 miles outside denver, but tomorrow i have to return the ladder in the morning. and what about this Water Course place? i drive into town. my old truck rolls downtown and parks conveniently right in front of this hip and comfortable looking restaurant with giant floor-to-ceiling windows. i am excessively bubbly, not a characteristic i display very often except in occasional care-free moments. like this one. i’m happy. i’ve spent all day in the zen of painting. i’ve made some money. i’m traveling without a real end in sight. and now i’m back in denver with a tip that this place is decent. and decent, it is.

i sit at the bar instead of a table. here, the workers all compliment my mood. i’m not a talkative person around strangers, but suddenly i feel like i live here. the workers are so great, talkative, sweet, funny. i fall in love with everyone. erin, the bartender and dessert artist, spends the most time with me, decorating dessert plates and asking me about chicago. another server comes over after we talk about her Circle A bike parked outside (i saw it coming in.) rachel, the woman who greeted me at the door, sits down to my right after her shift ends and orders a glass of wine. she’s as old as me i guess. she tells me about her past travels to portland, wandering indefinitely. she didn’t know anyone there, but met good people and stayed three weeks. she gives me contacts to people i should meet in denver, particularly the Villa Villakulla house, where the Derailer bike shop is. this night turns my trip upside down. denver turns into something new: and i stay for another week, find mel, an old friend from five years prior, finally fix my bike, and ride a super chopper tall bike. i meet courtney and see her documentary, Living Room, on infoshop culture, in mel’s backyard with fifteen others on a giant projection. and, most notably, i begin my documentary in denver, a project on bike spaces, collectives, and community. perhaps another city could have offered the same catalyst, but denver was it for me. that night changed the course of my trip for good.