Four Wheels Bad, Two Wheels Good

Biking

A fixed gear rider performing a no hand wheelie - Photo by Mikey Wally

By Gillian Singletary

Downtown's fixed gear fixation.

Imagine you lost your car keys. Not just for a second, but forever. Of course there would be a moment of panic. How would you get to work or to the dog park or to Trader Joe’s? But maybe after a search of your apartment and a retracing of steps, you might actually feel relief. Can you imagine never having to get in your car again? Not having to fight traffic on the freeway? Or spend 20 minutes circling the same five blocks for a parking space just so you can overpay for a vodka tonic? It might be kind of liberating.

Believe it or not, there are plenty of people in Los Angeles who live with this reality. Not out of poverty (though there are plenty of those, too) but out of choice. When they need to go to Trader Joe’s, they just hop on their bikes. In fact, hopping on their bikes is what they do instead of a lot of things. Instead of going to the gym. Instead of driving to a bar. Instead of sitting at a coffee shop with their friends. And though these people are hiding throughout Los Angeles, there is a corps of them that have made their home – and their playground – in Downtown.

If you’ve heard the words “fixed gear” applied to cyclists more and more, it’s probably been in the same breath as “hipsters” or “kids.” But the truth is that “fixies,” as their riders affectionately call them, are really the territory of serious (and sometimes mischievous) cyclists. The distinguishing feature of a fixed gear bike, as you might guess, is that it doesn’t have gears. The ramifications of this distinction reach farther than you might expect. Most will agree that these bikes are far more stylish since without gears they create a silhouette of clean lines and unbroken planes. Fixed gears also offer more in the way of fitness since you’ll burn a lot of calories pedaling every moment you’re riding as it is literally impossible to coast. The feeling of not being able to move without pumping your legs is foreign to most cyclists, but fixed gear riders insist it’s something that you not only get used to but grow to prefer and love. This type of bike has been around in its current form for decades, but its popularity has reached new heights among urban cyclists, many of whom put their fixed gear fixation on display in Downtown.

With names like Midnight Ridazz and Wolf Pack Hustle these fixed gear consortiums are not the spandex clad weekend warriors that you might expect when you hear the word “cyclist.” You’re just as likely to find 40 oz. of Old E strapped to their bike as you are a SIGG water bottle. But that isn’t to say that they don’t take their rides seriously. Riding any kind of bike from Downtown to Venice Beach is no joke any way you look at it.

Midnight Ridazz might be called L.A.’s premier underground, mostly nighttime bicycle crew if that title ever existed. In 2004, a small (like, five people small) group of friends decided to go on a midnight bicycle tour of Downtown fountains. From that one casual night, the membership of the Midnight Ridazz (they had their name from the get-go) snowballed. On the second Friday of each month, more and more people would meet up around 10PM, usually somewhere in Echo Park, and ride together for 20 or so miles. The rides would meander through Los Angeles, often finding their way through the 2nd Street tunnel downtown, and end up, you know, wherever.

Eventually the Friday night ride just got too crowded. Riders and drivers alike were getting overwhelmed by the volume of cyclists. Rather than give up the ride altogether, the Ridazz did what any savvy group would do and started a Web site. On their site (midnightridazz.com, duh), riders can organize their own rides, in their own neighborhoods, on their own nights. This did wonders for dispersing the original Ridazz and making the events more palatable for everyone involved (drivers and riders alike). Today you’ll find dozens of weekly and monthly rides announced in their site’s forums that vary in group size, terrain, distance, and neighborhood, all the while staying true to the Ridazz values of community, safety, and fun, including the rally cry: “No rida left behind!”

Wolfpack Hustle is a group that maintains a weekly ride with a lot of Midnight Ridazz overlap. It’s a ride with no winners or losers because, “This is not a race. This is a HUSTLE,” that starts every Monday night at Tang’s Donuts in Silverlake. The Wolfpack is also responsible for the creatively organized L.A. Marathon Crash Race. When the rest of us were bemoaning the street closures that kept our cars from going exactly where they wanted to go last March on a crisp Sunday morning, the Wolfpack decided to use those car-less roads to their advantage. In the wee hours of the morning (registration began at 3AM), before the runners hit the pavement but after the course had been set, hundreds of cyclists gathered at Tang’s and rode the 26.2 mile course through the streets of L.A. and into Santa Monica. Unlike their Monday night rides, this was a race with winners, where prizes included “an estimated 74% increase in Street Cred.” This kind of tongue-in-cheek approach to competition is a good example of the jovial and friendly nature of this bike culture. Participants are eager to talk, to teach, and to recruit.

Of all the places in Los Angeles that have less traffic and more pastoral scenery, the Downtown bike scene may seem surprising, but there are actually many reasons that Downtown is perfect for events like this, and for fixed gear riding in general. The mixed terrain of flat stretches and punishing hills is perfect for keeping rides interesting. When you’re riding through a city as opposed to a more rural area, you can stop off at a corner store or a diner instead of a scenic overlook. This offers up an element that’s absent at that vista and one that is integral to these biking groups: people and community. As one Wolfpack Hustler suggests, downtown Los Angeles is a neighborhood “starving for community.” As more people move Downtown and it flourishes as a cultural center, people want to know their neighbors, their shopkeepers, even their local panhandler. That’s not something you can do from the confines of your Honda. Plus, when you’re riding a bike, you can chalk that vodka tonic up to gas prices.

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