Working for sandwiches; 2nd Cycle




Turning a glut, into a good thing: Trading the thin lines of the 80’s tourer for gluttonous tire clearances and virile, ironic names such as Prairie Breaker, Stumpjumper, Streetstomper, and Dune Commander, Tacomans are embracing the rigid ATB. Given the availability of old mountain bikes, a wave of interest in moderately-priced touring and urban bikes, and the influence of the bourgeois 650b movement– Tacoma’s bikes have changed, subtly, in my absence.

A rock and a hard place: 2nd Cycle is the secret center of the Tacoma bike universe. It’s only a secret because it faces an unnamed alleyway, sandwiched between vacant lots, three pho restaurants, a pawn shop, several dumpsters and a “curios” shop which is described as stocking “XL sized Limp Bizkit tees and XS Hillary Duff tank tops”. They say the neighborhood is becoming gentrified, but I’m not really seeing it.

Your hole in the wall: The heat is never on, there isn’t any; and the bathroom doesn’t work, there isn’t one of those either, but for three hundred dollars in rent every month, this is your hole in the wall. 2nd Cycle runs purely on volunteer power (and tofu sandwiches). Unlike other co-ops and community bike shops that also claim self-sufficiency, 2nd Cycle receives no grants or large-scale private donations, no help from the city, and 501(c)(3) status only came recently; a rotating cast of volunteers help keep your bike running for a handful of change and some pocket lint, if you can afford it. Rent is paid in what I imagine to be a greasy wad of one dollar bills, dimes, pennies, assorted Canadian currency, some pitted cones, an errant ball bearing and the aforementioned lint. In lean winter months when Noah upends the Folgers can looking for miracles from the piggy bank, he may dip into reserves funded by summertime stunts, literally. Aside from fundraising house shows and loft parties, 2nd Cycle sponsors a piece of local lore, simply named, Bike Jump. Three years running, Galen, a local neon artist has crafted a sculpture of colored, lighted tubes, to destroy it in a frenzied moment of Knievel-style glory on a kids bike lofted from a small ramp, and dressed like some kind of postmodern ghetto-superhero. It’s strange, but a small mob ensues for the event, and 2nd Cycle is several hunded dollars richer as a result– somehow.

Pho King and food for kings: For two dollars, the curiously named Pho King next door sells fresh and filling tofu sandwiches– with pickled cabbage, shredded carrot, cilantro, jalapeno, and a spicy plum sauce on a crusty french roll– and when greasy hands and sweaty brow enter from the back alley, the staff diligently ask “How many?”, in lieu of “hello”. Coming in and out the back door, the dearth of conversation, and “sandwiches” both the code word and the cover-up– it always seems a little like a drug deal– but it’s not, just a really good sandwich with a backalley entrance. Volunteers are now offered a sandwich per shift, compliments of the 2nd Cycle till, that half-empty Folgers can of coins and cones and pocket lint. It’s a small reward for frozen toes and hammering on broken BMX bikes for five hours, but nobody’s complaining; mostly, because there’s no one to complain to. That’s the beauty of the cooperative model.

Tacoma bikes: Donning colorful plastic-bodied platform pedals; drop bars, swept back and riser bars; plastic fenders, bags, baskets, bucket panniers and racks– these old ATB’s are reawakening as no-fuss city bikes and tourers. We will someday be able, and proud, to reflect that our bikes were defined by comfort, function, and value. And an odd sense of style.

Above, Alex’s 1989 Trek 520 with bullmoose bars and controls poached from a Nishiki Colorado; below, Sean’s Novara Aspen dressed in drops and purple pedals, with a camo bar-bag courtesy of his previous employer, the U.S. Army; Noah’s Scott Boulder, so ugly it’s cool; Josh’s custom longbike– a Trek 8000 up front and the rear triangle of a step-through GT frame bolted to the rear, with aluminum conduit tubing comprising the Xtracycle frame–only the bags were purchased; Ellie’s 700c Cannondale frame, converted to 26″ wheels with long-reach brakes– one centerpull and one single-pivot BMX sidepull– to increase standover clearance and tire volume, and to lower trail and center of mass for urban riding with front loads; finally, my High Sierra, in Ben’s hands, whose aspirations of hiking the PCT next summer may take him to the real High Sierra.




Currently at 2nd Cycle are two Schwinn Sierras, a Diamond Back Fleet Streak and an Outlook, and an old Raleigh cycle-truck designed for a sidecar with rod brakes and small front wheel. One of the Sierras requires the removal of a sheared bolt from the rear cantilever stud.



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