ARTCRANK ATX will feature hand-made, bike-inspired posters created by 30 Austin-area artists. Admission is free, and limited edition, signed and numbered copies of all posters will be available for $40 each.

Where you find bikes, you’re sure to find beer, and ARTCRANK Austin is no exception. At the Opening Night Party, a selection of craft beers by Widmer Brothers Brewing will be available in exclusive ARTCRANK pint glasses, with proceeds going to benefit LIVESTRONG, the Austin-based cancer patient advocacy organization founded by seven-time Tour de France champion and cancer survivor, Lance Armstrong.

“One of the big ideas behind ARTCRANK is that we want to make art as accessible to people as bikes are,” says ARTCRANK founder Charles Youel. “Part of that is price — it’s pretty cool to be able offer limited edition, handmade posters for less than 50 bucks. But it’s also about introducing people to the artists who live in and work in their community. We’ve got 30 artists in our lineup for this first show, and the talent level here is off the charts. I can’t wait to see what they come up with.”

Youel adds that The Austin chapter of AIGA, the professional association for design, has been instrumental in recruiting artists and spreading the word about the show through Austin’s creative community.

ARTCRANK ATX show poster by Big Table Studio.

Find out more about ARTCRANK ATX 

We love riding. We really, really love riding. As our tires hit the pavement this new year, we’ve been thinking about all of the incredible rides we have to look forward to and a few in our office have even started making it official, scheduling races and writing down their bucket list of singletrack and road rides they hope to tackle in 2012. But part of what makes our future rides so exciting is the memories of adventures last year:

Billy Sinkford | @souphorse
I spend a lot of time in the saddle. It is part of my job as I am sometimes employed in the cycling industry. Most of the time I am just employed by myself. Looking back on the year it is hard to single out one ride that eclipsed them all. I travel the nation and get a chance to ride tons of roads and also share said roads with a lot of interesting people. Not a discredit to anyone I have turned the pedals with, but most of my favorite rides are by myself.

I am not fast. At all. I ride because I love being on the bike. I do not ride to train, or lose weight. Fitness is not a problem and I have stopped racing because I always lose.

Time spent on the bike centers me and helps put life in focus. My job title requires a state of constantly being plugged in to the interwebs, constantly hitting refresh for the latest and greatest in the world of bike. Riding is my time to unplug and enjoy being me. This time I spend on a near daily basis on the roads and trails near my humble abode keeps me calm and on top of my game.

I am fortunate that I can plan my day around a ride and sometimes even call it work. One ride tends to bleed both literally and figuratively into the next, so I generally answer this question by saying they all have something special to offer. This year I can say that one actually does stand out. The SSCXWC in San Francisco would be the day but the race itself is not the ride I favor most.

I came to the “race” under the thin guise of work. I had no intention of actually racing hard. I demonstrated this fact by not even showing up for the race on time. After missing the start and losing the race I ran over to spend time with my son. Over the next hour he and I cruised around the course, he on his Strider and me on my single speed. We stayed off the course and went cruising through some unexplored parts of Golden Gate Park.

Normally I would not want to explore anything in Golden Gate Park that was uncharted for fear of what I might find, but with my boy leading the way and laughing I forgot all about that. He said we were “racing” and I told him he won. In reality he is one of the few people I am faster than, and one of the only who always brings a smile to my face. That was hands down the best hour I had on the bike in 2011, and possibly the best hour period. Now it’s a family affair.

Matthew Lolli | @ghostshipmatt
I had a lot of great moments on my bike: Winning/podium-ing a bunch of cross races (my best season yet), lots of awesome rides with great friends, sunsets, tough climbs, pretty similar to some other folks I bet. However, my most touching story is an off-the-bike-moment. I manage a bicycle shop here in Vernon, CT called Pedal Power. I’m the certified bicycle fitter for our shop and it’s one of my favorite/most fulfilling things to do at work. Hearing that I’ve helped make athletes faster, achieve new PR’s, ride without pain or discomfort is great! The thing I love most about it is that everyone I’ve done a fitting for tells me how much more they want to ride afterwards. Definitely a great feeling.

Back in March, I had a client who came to me with some pain/discomfort issues for a road bicycle fitting. I came to discover that she was in the process of battling with breast cancer. We did the fitting, and afterwards, she gave me, hands-down, the best compliment I’ve ever received being a fitter. She explained that she was still getting used to her new body-image as she had recently undergone mastectomy surgery Especially to having her ‘new’ body measured and ‘inspected’ by a strange man. She said that I had helped put her at ease and she had completely forgotten about her worries during the fitting process. Needless to say, I was pretty blown away. I find out that she’s been vlogging her experiences, thoughts and feelings during her recovery period, and she actually documented some of that day while we were fitting. She granted me permission to share her video with others (we’d never compromise our fit-client’s personal info) and I’d like to share it with you and the ARTCRANK audience.

Bridget Record
My boyfriend, Bob. is a bicycle messenger in San Francisco. Last May he came home and announced that he had been hit by a car and that it was the driver’s fault. My first thought and question was, of course “Are you ok.?” He was. Knowing from experience the sometimes aggressive nature of the job and Bob’s “live” personality, My second question was “Is the driver ok?”

The driver, James was on his way to a Giants game. He had turned right without signaling, (For sure, this is SF) He felt horrible and because Bob’s bike was not ok, he drove him with the bike to a bike shop. Bob made it clear to him that if the frame was bent, this could cost him a lot of money. The guy cancelled on his friend at the Giants game, drove Bob to another bike shop, and said the money didn’t matter, the most important thing was that Bob was ok. Bob said “He just could not be a nicer guy.”

The bike shop determined the frame had been bent. James agreed to meet him the next day at the bike shop to see what the warranty would cover and settle up on the rest of the damage. I was leery when Bob said he didn’t get James’ last name or license number. “I’m not worried” Bob said, he is a good guy”. During their rides around town Bob had found out what James did for a living, that he lived four blocks away from us, and that he was from Pittsburgh.

As Bob predicted, James met him the next evening at the bike shop, where employees informed Bob that his frame wasn’t bent after all. The brunt of the crash was absorbed by the front wheel, which James promptly replaced. This is good news for James, but turns out the bike is still not safe to ride. The back rack had been attached by metal brackets (at the same bikes shop) with no rubber inserts and 7 years of riding with metal on metal, the brackets had ruined the frame. If James hadn’t hit Bob with his car, the hazard may not have been discovered until it was too late. James saved Bob’s life by hitting him with his car!!!

While that irony is a great way to end the story, the final twist reminds me why I am so fond of Bob, and the sweet side of his “live” nature. He had always felt bad about James missing the Giants game, because he was such a good guy, and because Bob himself is such a sports freak. Bob purchased four tickets to see the SF Giants play the Pittsburgh Pirates: One for each of us, and the other two for James and his wife. We met them at the game, and watched Pittsburgh win. James seemed as nice as Bob had said. Even though he was very grateful for the tickets, I could tell from the laughing glances between him and his wife, that they were, like myself, in a bit of disbelief of how a bad driving decision had brought us all together.

Randy Bond | @RandysRecycles
Randy’s Recycled Cycles opened for business on December 16th, 2010 and the year that followed was (in the understatement of the year) an amazing ride.

It all started when I lost my job and was looking for a way to generate some income. I’ve always been mechanically inclined and interested in bikes, so I bought a number of bikes from Craigslist, restored them, and sold them on my front lawn. They were gone in no time at all. I bought some more, and the same thing happened. Rinse and repeat. Buy. Restore. Sell. Hey, this was working out pretty well!

Eventually city inspectors pointed out that my yard wasn’t zoned for this kind of activity, so the hunt for a storefront began. I acquired a couple of partners and we found 4130 Manchester (where we live today) in The Grove, a vibrant part of St. Louis that’s going through a revitalization. The neighborhood is rich with unique businesses, restaurants and bars including Handlebar, a bike-themed bar directly across the street. The RRC team couldn’t ask for a more perfect environment.

As we settled into the new shop, our sources for raw materials grew to include auctions, websites, thrift stores, garage sales, and individuals wanting to make more room in their garages. As all of the bikes come in we clean and repair them, tune them up, sometimes add new parts, do a safety inspection, and generally restore the luster of each bike. Sometimes it’s tough to keep as much in stock as we’d like because people love the idea of quality recycled bikes at a very reasonable cost. The excitement for our custom fixxies is…well, humbling.

Simply put, 2011 has been a blur. We’ve gotten to know our neighbors, the people in the surrounding community, and bike/environment lovers throughout the metro area. We sponsored some awesome rides and street fairs. We gave to incredible charities. We watched smiles appear on thousands of faces as they selected a new bike, got a fun new accessory, or told the story of an amazing ride they recently experienced. We learned about accounting and inventory. We helped people reduce their carbon footprint and traffic congestion. We cheered people on as they tackled (and met!) new fitness goals through biking. We watched one little guy’s interest in troublemaking disappear as he learned to work on his bike. We explored more of the beauty in the St. Louis area by taking new routes. We met some crazy bike loving artists. We learned countless things from the people who have welcomed us into The Grove and their lives. We even busted a bike thief or two along the way.

This has been one hell of a ride, and I’m so grateful to have shared it with my partners, our customers, and the community.

As always, keep on bikin’!

Louise Mullagh | @patisseriecyc
“One more kilometre and we’re in the cafe…”

It is funny what can happen in just one year, how your expectations of how things are going to work out can disappear in a flash. This time last year I wasn’t well and felt as though I didn’t really have a career or future ahead of me, it is a long story and one I have written about lots since I started to get better.

In short, I was off work on long-term sick leave with severe depression and the only way I could escape and get better was by riding my bike each day. On each ride  I would visit my local cafe,one which is hugely popular with cyclists from all over the area and somewhere I felt safe and looked forward to visiting.

On a very dark January afternoon I was sat trying to write the journal I had been instructed to do when an idea came into my head.This surprised me a great deal as I had been struggling to sit and concentrate,even though I was attempting to get a PhD research proposal together. It came to mind that it was cycling just a short distance to the cafe that was really important in my getting out and recovering, but that cafes seemed to be at the very core of what we do. I mooted the idea of setting up a blog that cyclists could add reviews to, so that we could share our experiences of good and not so good cafes on our routes. The blog was set up and publicised a little and within weeks had gained a lot of support and popularity.

I immediately felt a little better, that a light had been switched on in my brain and I had something to focus on as well as getting out on my bike each day for a short spin for fresh air and exercise. It was slow progress with the site as I kept taking steps forwards and backwards with my recovery and then I started a new job in April, meaning all my time and energy was spent getting used to being at work again.

Once I had settled back into work I started back with blog and finally got round to registering www.patisseriecyclisme.co.uk ,which felt like a huge step and really positive too. It had become clear that this was an idea that cyclists ,whether fixie riders, road racers, commuters and mtb’ers, were interested in contributing to and supporting started growing rapidly. A couple of months ago I asked a friend to produce a logo and what he came up with exceeded my dreams of what the logo would look like. I think he managed to get it exactly right and I just love looking at it, it gives me a huge buzz to see it on the site and on some printed materials.

The most overwhelming part of 2011 was the support I received from friends, old and new and also really amazing advice from business people I greatly admire. It finally gave me confidence that I had the potential to do something exciting with my future, the fact it involves cycling and cake is, well, the icing on the cake.

It wasn’t intended to be a business at first, as cycling is my passion, as are cake and coffee, but as momentum grew it started dawning that this could be my future. I seem to have tapped into something at the core of cycling, that the cycling cafe is held in high regard by not only the leisure cyclist but the pros too. Historically the cafe raid occurred during the Grand Tours, before nutrition was developed and there were limits on how much fluid and fuel cyclists could take on during the day. The domestiques would combine forces and ‘raid’ the cafe en route, taking anything they could fit into their jerseys and ride back to their leaders and distribute what they had managed to take. It was seen as a huge honour for the cafe to be selected by the riders, and many collected memorabilia from such races that is still proudly displayed.

This historical aspect of the cycling cafe is something I hope to look at further with the development of my new site, something I can really get my teeth into and write about. I’m also going to be interviewing a lot of cyclists and professionals in the cycling industry, as well as owners of seminal cafes. Here in the UK the cycling cafe is often somewhere to find shelter with our terrible weather, but there you share the sense of comradeship with your fellow cyclists, this is something I treasure about the cycling community.

So, for me, 2011 was a huge year of change, but something incredibly positive came out of a really dark time. I am an advocate of bringing depression out into the open, to try and get rid of the barriers surrounding the discussion of it and if I can do this through cycling then that would be fantastic.

There are exciting projects in the pipeline, with kit being designed and a new website being developed, as well as a research proposal being put together for the spring. It was cycling that helped me recover, and the amazing people in the cycling community that gave me the support and confidence to try and follow my dream. I often think though that they are only in it for the free cake!

Mike Mason | @mikebikemason
That morning, we set off from Saint Paul with plans to camp at Carver Park Reserve—a decent ride for me and the boys, considering we were bike + trail-a-bike + trailer, and loaded with gear. After stops at Minnecycle to say “Hi!” to all the cool bike builders, the Midtown Freewheel for snacks and high-fives from the cool kids, Pizza Luce in Hopkins for some pie, a playground on the Minnetonka LRT trail for a romp, and downtown Excelsior for pastries, we finally rolled into our camp site at about 4:00pm.

This tour was our third adventure on a sub-24-hour-overnight, camping by bike right from our front door. Three years earlier, I’d almost been taken out by a Silverado on my ride to work, a terrifying experience, but I’d kept bicycling and developed a solid bike attitude to get to my downtown job in all seasons. Now, with a bike I had custom-built by Bradley Wilson of Capricorn Bicycles, and then had further built up by Angry Catfish, the bike we rode was a dream unto itself. Our ride to Carver was the real dream, though.

Hot dogs, chips, dried fruit and nuts in the belly, a raging fire going…I made ready with the supplies to keep them away from the critters that night (not so successful), and we bundled up to go to sleep. The next morning, our brisk sprint back to Minneapolis for breakfast would have benefited from a stop or two for the young ones to keep them entertained. But, after we’d filled our bellies with Grandma’s cooking, right off the Cedar Lake Trail, we headed home.

My way of touring isn’t about distance. It isn’t about your speed or cadence. It’s definitely not about looking “cool”; in fact, we look ridiculous (my friends call my setup “the Gravy Train”). Touring, for me, is about enjoying time with my family and friends. We had fun on this ride! I learned a few things to plan for next time, including some ways to improve the next adventure. Best of all, our ride to Carver showed my boys they can enjoy a day of bicycling, camping under the stars, and spending time with their old man.

Aaron Thomas Smith | @mplsmusette
Having arrived at the course early to try and figure out a way to get on the back of a moto, I was disappointed to find that I would be unable to. My shiny new press badge did not get me as far as I had hoped. Chomping on an egg roll I stewed in my conundrum. How would I get in the race caravan?

Pete Hamer and the team my employer had sponsored for the 2011 NVGP proved to be my saving grace. I walked over to the sprinter van and trailer to find him scrounging about for some cleats.

“Hey Pete, I need to find a car with an extra seat – do ya’ll have one?”

“Um..er sure. Yup, I mean I think so. Marion?”

Marion Clignet poked her head out of the red Toyota team car. Magnets advertising Freewheel Bike and other accreditations smattered about. She looked me up and down quickly and made a face. This was not a face I enjoyed being made at me.

“OK. Media Badge, huh? Well, he can come I just don’t want no shit.”

Winner.

We hopped in and I quickly realized I was not dealing with just your everyday French Directeur Sportif. She informed me of her illustrious track/road career spanning the last decade and a half. Google her name sometime, it’ll be a couple hours to find everything she’s done. To say I was in awe was just a little bit of an understatement. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

It was the least boring six hour drive you could hope to have. Photo opportunities were not as plentiful as hoped, but her stories kept me more than entertained. Anything from how bicycle racing takes place in France to her multitudes of victories. As the caravan made its way up the big climb of the day we yelled support to our guys as they passed. The yellow jersey even dropped back during this time, so naturally I got up in the window and hung out taking photos. I was getting some great ones when we started to descend.

She found gaps in between cars, trees, houses, spectators and racers that I didn’t think you could fit a bike, much less a car. We flew down the hill at a pace that seemed less than prudent. I began to consider getting back in the car.

“Aaron, we’ve got a bump coming up.” Marion calmly noted.

“Okay.”

“Aaron, get your ass in the car.”

“Working on…”

Just then we hit the bump and I flew. I’d say more than seventy five percent of my body made it out of the vehicle. Marion grabbed my leg and yanked me back in, all while deftly maneuvering her way around an official.

“When I tell you to get your ass in the car, you get your ass in the car.”

And with that I was officially welcomed into the race caravan.

Michael McKinney | @miklmck
Last year, after moving from a storage locker in Washington County, I moved into an apartment on Grand Avenue. I didn’t ride my bike there, or cart my belongings in an xtra-cycle through the streets, or receive sponsorship to live there, or in some way benefit in any way from having a bicycle on my wall that I also rode on occasion. With no job and no income, I had little to rely on and often found myself scrounging for bus fare or vegetables from the Farmers Market, things I might have taken for granted months earlier.

In December, after selling parts off of a decommissioned cyclocross bike, I was given a re-built 58 cm Centurion road bike, circa 1980, with new tires. Salvation from the bus lines and a way to get to work as a seasonal Nordic ski instructor with the city of Saint Paul. Bent handlebars, Suntour barcons, bent wheels, bent frame and one purpose. After the epic winter, the massive snowfalls and the spring season that wasn’t, I kept riding it until September, gradually replacing the parts until the frame itself was replaced with a Schwinn steel frame.

The parts are all the same and it rides well, but I saved the frame after being told it was a previous wreck, and having ridden it so long without total failure was commendable in and of itself.  The barcons lesson was fun, when I lost a camming action nut that keeps tension in the shifter, and rode around town, trying to find parts.  Riding on the ice cube quality ruts of Summit Avenue, not so much.  I now have three frames, dating back to 1987, that each carry the burden of some hard earned lesson, yet no longer carry the burden of my velocentricity.

Robyn Hendrix | @robynhendrix
Thanks to a Community Partners Bike Library Learn to Ride class in Minneapolis’ Seward Neighborhood and encouragement from friends, in 2011 I finally started learning how to ride a bike, at age 29.  It was awesome.  Can’t wait to get back out there and continue practicing (and earn a few more bruises).  It’s never too late.

Sgt. Jim Dexheimer | @sedxge
A couple of bike cops in Madison wanted to connect with the families in a troubled housing complex. Trying to include bikes in as many things as possible this year, we had this idea to offer bikes to the kids. Forty townhouses, mostly single moms in their early twenties, and dozens of kids with no bikes. But we hoped to do more than just give away bikes. We were hoping to teach these kids to ride safely and to develop lifelong habits of biking. Especially biking to school. Building on ideas from our state Safe Routes to School Coordinator, Rene, and ideas from a speaker from Copenhagen at the Wisconsin Bike Federation’s bike summit, we decided to organize a bike bus, with cops riding with kids to school. Also building on the idea of #30daysofbiking, which changed my life and taught me how to include biking in my life, we committed to riding with the kids every day in September, to and from school.

Officer Andre Lewis lead the project and went door to door several times before he signed up his first kid. Many of these parents were distrustful of cops, and there was a history of strained relations between this community and the police. Officers often felt threatened and harassed when responding here. That is why Andre had been trying for months to improve police community relations and had been frustrated at every turn. Until we came up with the idea of the bikes.

After the first family signed up, the floodgates were opened and Andre was welcomed into their homes. After working on the program all summer, our source of used bikes fell through a week before our first meeting with the kids. Our whole community policing team scrambled to find bikes. We posted a message on several neighborhood list-serves. The local paper picked that up and the response was incredible. People all over the county found old kids bikes on their garages and offered them to us. We collected over 80 bikes before we had to start turning them down. The cops fixed them up and several local bike shops did safety checks. Local businesses contributed helmets and locks. By August 7th we had 15 excellent bikes for the fifteen kids who were signed up. We only had room for the first through fifth graders who attended Leopold School.

On August 7th we had our first training and fitting session. We did a practice ride to the school followed by a party for the kids, their parents and the cops. Every kid committed to riding to and from school with us for every school day in September in order to earn his or her bikes. We had another training session two days before school started (with an ice cream social) and turned the bikes over to the kids.

All of our goals had been accomplished before school even started. We had two positive events with the families and officers now felt comfortable at the complex. But the best part was yet to come. All fifteen kids successfully completed the program and kept their bikes, with over 90% attendance. We had great weather but we had not anticipated the chilly mornings. Most of the kids did not have gloves or mittens but they toughed it out. We had rain one morning and I showed up just to make sure no kids were expecting us. Davionte came walking up to me and I noticed he was crying. As he unlocked his bike I told him we didn’t have to ride, that I could give him a ride in my van. I told him it was his choice and he said, “Ride the bike”.

There was one citizen, a physician’s assistant at a nearby clinic who heard about the program who showed up every morning to help us ride. We had at least two officers for every ride, sometimes teachers rode and once the principal rode. It stretched our resources but we flexed hours and volunteered on off days. When construction at mid-month closed our access to the bike path, officers searched for an alternate route and eventually cleared and improved a 100 foot deer trail through a woods on a Sunday evening. No overtime was used for the approximately 120 officer hours just to cover the rides.

We had crashes, flats, all sorts of mechanical problems and one stolen bike. But we all learned valuable lessons and had some awesome times with the kids. When we arrived at school we all shouted “Leopold Bike Club”. When we got to the new Cannonball bike path, the chant was “Cannonball”. We heard from the school staff that our kids had significantly improved attendance and punctuality during September. We tweeted many of our rides @LeopoldBikeClub and got support from around the world. We used these tweets to teach the kids that they were a part of a much larger cycling community (ala #30daysofbiking). And in the end we had a party at the school. The officers ended up with memories that will last a lifetime. Some of the kids were still riding into December.

Jennifer Weber | @jenjen2683
Instead of spending the Thanksgiving with my wonderful family, I went to Moab with a group of people I hardly knew. I don’t need to explain how epic it was. It’s Moab. Every ride is Epic. Day three of five, my calf and chain ring got into a fight. The chain ring won; branding me with my first stitches. The scar reminds me of the best bike trip I have ever been on, with the most amazing people I have ever met. It was the best ride of 2011 and perhaps in my life.

Not all scars are bad.

(All photos provided by story authors, unless otherwise noted. Extra-special thanks slathered in awesomesauce to Bjorn Christianson for the “Go Cyclist Go!” image up top.)

Roz Jones | @rozjones
So, it was 35 degrees and we had managed to get to the top of Alto Pena Cabarga, thanks to our passes, shuttle buses and ambitious local driving. At this year’s Vuelta, one mountain stage defined the race, and not just because Chris Froome won. With Il Bison, Juan Jose Cobo being the hometown favourite, there was as much passion from the fans in this short climb than perhaps on the mighty Angliru.

I knew from our position in the baking hot VIP area that visibility of the first rider over the line would be limited. Leaving the offer of Cava and canapes behind, I headed towards the finish line to get a good position. I was very lucky as I have never managed to get such a great position at a stage finish. Normally only the professional photographers with accreditation can get in such a good position.

The photo confirms I made the right choice, showing an exuberant Chris Froome having conquered the steepest of gradients. For me, it was this stage that defined everything good about the Vuelta; new climbs, new talent and an appreciative audience. Looking forward to more cycling adventures in 2012 and beyond and hope one day I will reach the professional ranks of pro-cycling photography…

Tyler Buckley | @ThoughtDJ
Believe me, now that I work at a bike shop and run in social circles fueled by Clif Bars, craft beers, and the thrill of a steady cadence, I have plenty of bike stories to tell. But looking back on the year has me feeling a little sentimental, so I’ve decided to use this opportunity to reflect on my year in bikes in a more overarching manner. So here goes nothing.

For four years as a graduate student in Milwaukee, Wisconsin my bike was, in many ways, a necessary evil. It was cheap transportation, it was a set of wheels that didn’t need to be visited every hour to plug a meter, and it took me where I wanted to go on my clock. While 2011 found me stepping away from higher education and a bike-friendly commute, the past year gave me the opportunity to see my bicycle from a different perspective. Instead of being a tool of frugality and pure utility, it became a gateway to the finer things in life.

In 2011, my bike exposed me to overly ambitious single-track, the wonders of a quality chamois, an appreciation of PBR tallboys, all-weather neighborhood rides, a leaner build, and number of friendships that have made my return to the Twin Cities a ton of fun.

So here’s to more of the same in 2012. And if you really want to hear the funny stuff, we can talk about strange bike shop requests, outfitting comfort bikes for single-track, and helping a proud customer get his mail-order bride decked out in the finest road attire while she pranced about the shop in impossibly high heels and jeans that made even the most form-fitting Lycra look baggy, Just let me know.

Kat Fowler | @TYFSM
Earlier this year I made a big decision — the same decision more people are beginning to make these days. I sold my car and joined the growing crowd of commuters using alternative methods of transportation to get around. Whether it’s because of the going green, the tough economy or just wanting to see the world in a different way, I was among people of all skills getting out on their bikes for the first time in the madness that is urban traffic.

All of a sudden it was me vs. thousands of cars, glass, potholes, buses, car doors, stray dogs, frustrated drivers. The learning curve was huge and I wasn’t 100% aware of cyclists when I had my car either so I knew that these people weren’t necessarily aware of me on my bicycle. Believe me, this new found vulnerability scared me, but, I always had a comforting piece of advice that kept me pedaling and a little less scared.

Someone once told me that “In order to be seen you must consciously think about being seen then make yourself visible to the world.” Visibility is an action, but, I also realized that being visible isn’t just going and buying the required lights and reflectors for your bike, it’s also about your state of mind. Being seen is a state of conscious awareness.

Sometimes, on a long stretch of road, I found myself dissecting the incredible moments of serendipity I experienced in my life. I would pull up to a light, stop then look over and see you, in your car, or you, crossing the street, and I would think “I wonder what their life is like, what is their story?” My background in photojournalism leads me to search for stories to tell and I am that person that asks questions about who you are, where you’re from and then in a beautiful moment we find that we’re connected in some way, some how…it is this inherent curiosity that leads me to think about our well being on the road and I believe it’s what inspired this idea. It was simple. Thinking about the advice I received about making myself visible to the world, I thought, wouldn’t it be great to simply thank someone for actually noticing me in my vulnerability?

In a divine “bike-lane moment”, Thank You For Seeing Me was born. I’m lucky that I have a background in design too because even the logo seemed to float down from the ether. The next day, still reeling about the divine bike lane moment and in another incredible moment of serendipity, I happened to meet a woman with a visual impairment at my local bus stop. Curious, I asked her what it was like for her walking in the city and if she had a hard time getting around. She expressed how she wasn’t completely blind yet still carried a walking stick mainly to alert people to her disability. It didn’t always work for her. She said “It’s hard! People don’t see me out there. I can’t believe they still don’t see me even with my stick!”

Right then, the TYFSM idea started to really come together. If she was carrying an indicator of her impairment and still wasn’t being seen, then what needed to change was the general awareness of her. It was that moment I dedicated my time to developing the Thank You For Seeing Me brand to raise the level of visibility for all of us who share the road. Psychology studies show that kindness (a positive exchange) has the potential to make a great impression on our perspective of an issue and through a positive exchange of gratitude our goal is simple. Because a simple “Thank You” can go a lot further than a criticism or demand to be seen, Thank You For Seeing Me is raising awareness for cyclists and pedestrians through kindness.

The movement began in Los Angeles, and after a successful start on Kickstarter, the message started to spread. You might see TYFSM in your neighborhood on the back of a commuter or a decal on a car and you’re probably going to see the idea being promoted through your social networks too. When you do, take a second to share it and explain the concept to someone, maybe even send them over to the website or hand them a sticker. We all face the same sort of challenge on our daily commutes, and, weather we’re driving or pedaling, we are navigating the streets in a very dangerous situation that costs thousands of lives every year. Every time you talk to someone about this concept you are raising the level of visibility for all of us on the road and statistics are starting to show that we need it now more than ever!

We’re only a part of the army that is working to change our streets. Please seek out and volunteer for your local bicycle coalition, stop by your local bike shops, seek out and support policy changers and people dedicated to increasing bicycling infrastructure. Do what you can with what you have!

So when I see you out there on the road, THANK YOU for seeing ME.

Darryl Kotyk | @lovingthebike
As a guy who is always “Loving the Bike”, it’s hard to pick just one ride that makes for the best cycling story of 2011. This might sound fabricated, but I am thankful and extremely happy for each and every ride that I’m able to get out for and I always enjoy my ride. Living in Austin and having pretty much a full year cycling season, I’m out there all the time…but the one ride that stands out for me was the Livestrong Challenge in Austin.

I rode this year for the Kollective Fusion team that together raised over $25,000 in the battle against cancer. I also prepared more for this ride than ever before and was totally stoked and ready to fly when that day came. I took off alone and about 25 miles into the 90-mile ride I met up with two other guys and together we rocked out the rest of the ride at a personal record pace. We averaged just under 20 miles per hour and I felt incredible once we crossed the yellow finish line. I made new friends, had the ride of my life, and along with thousands of others, I rode in support of conquering cancer. One of many best rides of 2011.

Nathan Saxton | @VelociPrints
On January 12, 2011, my garage was a sort of assisted-living home for bicycles. The poor things rarely saw the light of day, maybe on bi-monthly outings to get their hair done. But as of December 31, 2011, I’ve met the best bike people on the planet, got my bike legs back, and become intimately familiar with all the potholes in a 100 square mile area. What was the catalyst for change? Creating a bike art show in Tucson, inspired by ARTCRANK, that has turned into a full-time online bike art business. The marriage of bikes and art has been no less than life-changing, and I can’t wait to see what 2012 brings.

Patrick Stephenson | @patiomensch
My favorite bicycling moment of 2011? Well, shoot, that’d be my last commute from St. Paul, Minn., at the beginning of May. A loft in the heart of downtown Minneapolis, with high ceilings and hardwood floors, stole me from SP and my old route to work. That morning, I rode the Marshall Avenue bridge, looked out at the Mississippi River (not as blue and warm last May as it should’ve been) as I sped across it, and tried to feel the full weight of the moment. My last commute from St. Paul, on a route that changed me hugely. Significant moments never feel significant when you experience them, even with their importance presaged; they only feel that way in retrospect, when you aren’t worrying about that pothole ahead or whether you’ll get to work in time. I tried to feel this one anyway—really feel it up, like a pubescent perv reaching second base—and then I rode another seven miles. I returned that night in an HOURCAR, to retrieve my girlfriend and our cats. Minneapolis rocks, but St. Paul surely owns a piece of my heart.

Andy Arthur | @cocteautriplets
July 2009. Went to help my dad move a flowerpot and burst the arse out of my suit trousers. 16.5 stones [about 230 pounds], overweight and unfit I took stock of my life and resolved to do something about it and use that bike that had been sitting in my bike gathering dust for years.

July 2011. End of a 770 mile, 12 day, 26,000 feet of ascending tour of Scotland, fully laden with 35kg+ of luggage and on top of the world (and over 5 stones [about 70 punds] lighter!!) Ridiculously happy and pleased with myself that I’d done something that I though only “other people ” could do. Topped it off by coming third in our club 10 mile time trial league, which is the first time in my life I’ve ever had any sort of award or recognition for doing any sort of physical activity.

All thanks to cycling.

CycleHermit | @CycleHermit
My most memorable racing moment of 2011 is Philippe Gilbert’s solo attack with 15 km left in Tour de France Stage 10 into Carmeaux. The panic it induced in the Peloton was delicious to watch. And though billed as an attempt at solo victory, it became clear that the vintage PhilGil puncheur attack was merely the first volley in Lotto’s war against HTC bid for yet another Cavendish win. Gilbert single-handedly decimated HTC, leaving Renshaw behind, and opened the door for Greipel to pip Cavendish at the line. The Gericault painting “The Raft of the Medusa” was the image that came to mind on seeing the Lotto team execute their perfect tactics.

Bob Richards | @BobRidesABike
My first thought of my best cycling memory of 2011 was actually my worst: The MN Gran Fondo Ride in May (34° F with a nasty headwind for the first 25 miles) that I fought through and completed. But really, the best is coaching my daughter to finally ride a bike by herself.

Until this summer, efforts to teach her to ride were made in fits and starts. Partly was laziness on my part. Partly it was fear on her part. Fear disguised as disinterest. But this summer, before her 10th birthday, the two of us made a concerted effort to make it happen. And now she’s riding everywhere she wants to go in town. And she is talking about riding RAGBRAI with me in 2012 or 2013.

I’m so proud of her. And excited for her. And thrilled to see that she’s excited about it too.

Loretta Trevino
My favorite race of the year: Babes in Bikeland. This year I flew in hoping to capture the out of towner gold. Unfortunately, six blocks into Babes I got T-boned by a car flying through an intersection trying to catch the girl in front of me. Before I knew it I was on hood and then on the ground. The police, fire trucks, meds, and race officials came. As they’re trying to figure out the story – I started taking out my tools removing my mangled front wheel and pedals – plan B replace hardware or get a new bike ASAP. Some random dude even tried to swap wheels with me – but my gears were all bent up – game over … right?

Wrong.

I hopped into the car with the lady who hit me. ‘take me to a bike shop now lady’ we start driving towards the U and I see a Nice Ride Minnesota bike station. I rented this heavy ass commuter city bike and started the race an hour later. I hit all the stops on my manifest. At every stop I’m getting cheered on because 1) I’m on a Nice Ride 2) still going after the crash and 3) I’m from Seattle.

To my surprise I finished the race before it closed. Un-freaking-believable. Alley Kats are dangerous—but fun. ‘till next year, Minnie.

Carrie Zukoski | @velo_city
ARTCRANK is being picky so I can only write about one of my top four bike stories for 2011. I picked traveling to my friend’s wedding reception by tandem this past June. Dressed in our best summer wedding outfits (seersucker and a bowtie for him, a sundress for me), my date (the captain) got the tandem ready and we were off on the mile and a half of what seemed to be a smart decision.

We meandered through Forest Park in St. Louis, getting a few double takes and honks. The parking attendants weren’t sure what to do with our vehicle, which we easily secured right up front. Sadly the ride home never occurred. Before we left, the skies opened and within a few hours we had eight inches of rain. We ended up hitching a ride home in a car with others as the driving rain continued for several more hours. (Don’t worry, the tandem was rescued in the morning.)

Captain Badbeard | @captainbadbeard
2011 was the year I started riding my bike again, every day. As a teenager I was a big cyclist but beer, women, good times and hard living led me away from it for many years. This year I made sure I got on my bike every day. I learnt how to build my own wheels and for the first time I built my own bike from the frame up. Cycling is the freedom everyone needs, freedom to move, freedom to escape and freedom to sing at the top of your lungs while doing what you love.

My new year’s resolution is to get at least 5 people cycling. Every day.

Happy Hogmanay!

[Photo at left is author's own. Photo at right is from ARTCRANK London.]

Genevieve Ruebel | @ruebelg
It was a mild summer day, when my husband and I decided that we must go on an invigorating bike ride on the Midtown Greenway towards Minnehaha Falls. We both put on our bike gear and took off. We were speeding along when I saw a wild glint in my husband’s eyes. With out missing a beat, he proceeded to lift his t-shirt up and pound on his chest like a gorilla. At which point, he hit his front tire on the curb and green goo started spraying out of the tire. Let’s just say it was a memorable moment. [What, no photos?]

Leah Preble | @leahinthestreet
A year ago, around the end of the summer, I was given a bike and started biking consistently for the first time since my childhood. This September I raced in my first alley cat: Babes in Bikeland. This experience was incredibly meaningful to me because when I started biking again I never thought I would be able to be in any sort of race; I thought I would never have the endurance or speed to do such a thing.

When I showed up at the starting point, I was pretty nervous because I felt like I had no idea what I was doing. As soon as I received a manifest and a map however, I realized that I knew where a lot of the stops were and how to get there due to how much I had biked over the past year. I was ecstatic when I rolled out as I had set two goals for myself, finish the race, and don’t come in last, and I knew I could accomplish both.

I got lost a couple times which was frustrating, and there were some points where I felt like I wasn’t going to have enough energy to finish, but overall I biked like a lunatic and had a silly grin on my face the whole time. At one point there was a car full of people that went by who were screaming and cheering for me as I flew down a stretch of road. It was a show of support that was completely unexpected and it made me feel pretty awesome.

In the end, it took me two hours to finish, I biked 30 plus miles, and I came in 111th out of 252 racers. Although I think those numbers are pretty good for a first timer, they ultimately don’t matter much to me. What makes this experience my best bike story from 2011 is that it was the point where I realized I was a much healthier and more confident person than compared to a year ago; biking had truly changed my life.

[Photo from Babes in Bikeland by Bjorn Christianson]

Jamie Grant | @jgrantis
I was part of two members from Team Steffie who took part in a three-day fully supported ride covering 530km from Lindsay, Ontario to Mont Tremblant, Quebec. We rode 240km the first day, the longest we had both ridden in a day, burning 1200 calories. Then we rode 190km the second day, finishing our ride with 90km hill climb. All raising money for our local Boys and Girls club. We raised over 12 grand and completed our ride with not one mechanical. This was the highlight of 2011.

Mike White | @MikeBoneshaker
Best bike moment? Too many. But here’s one: Riding out one late summer evening alongside the beautiful golden beard of fellow Boneshaker editor, Mr. James Lucas, in amongst a bell-trilling throng of hundreds of other cyclists of all shapes and sizes. Dusk was falling, and we were all excitedly heading to a secret location for Bristol Cycle Festival’s outdoor, ride-in cinema screening of one of my favourite films of all time – The Lost Boys.

Cruisers and cross bikes, BMXs and Bromptons, the convoy rolled out over an old railway bridge, across a park and into a deep, forested gorge, weaving along the river’s edge in the gloaming. The path was lit by candles. A life-size Kiefer Sutherland vampire loomed out of a tree, then suddenly we swerved left, through a tunnel and into an old quarry.

Bikes were everywhere, picnics and beers emerged from panniers as the screen flickered to life. We sang along to the soundtrack, pre-empted the best lines, whooped at the vampires’ messy deaths – then zigzagged the hazy miles back into town for the bikes and beats of the WeLoveBikes afterparty. Good times.

Peter Simpson | @cyclepath
I sometimes get to travel when I work and 2011 was exceptional. My first job took me to New York — Manhattan to be exact. The whole crew had bikes, and we rode pretty much every day, usually to work, and then after work to do laps of Central Park. My apartment was on 46th, between 2nd and 3rd, Central Park was up at 60th street, and every time we made it back through all the traffic (cabbies, buses, limos, pedestrians etc), I felt lucky to be alive, it was actually kind of addicting.

My next job had us located north of Detroit. I wasn’t expecting much in the way of riding but was pleasantly surprised. Auburn Hills, the city our apartments were in, was rich with wooded rolling hills and roads with actual bike lanes. I bought a cyclocross bike while I was there which was the perfect bike for the area and allowed me to ride the smooth roads and venture off into the single/double track trails that were everywhere.
Riding new roads and trails is one of my favorite things to do on my bike and this was a stellar year for that, and for that I am grateful. #theresnoplacelikehome

Urban Riding Tips | @urbanridingtips
This was back in March. It was really pouring, rain so thick you worried some breaths might make you drown. I left work round 6pm — still daylight, but very grey.

I remember standing at the door, helmet on, watching the surface of the puddles roil as they were pelted with enormous drops. I had the option of public transport, but I thought to myself: you can only get wet down to the skin.

The gutters were bursting as I rode, and water was invading the bike lanes. I felt like an astronaut, alone in a mad and dangerous pursuit. And then I saw another rider: head down, dripping, making an enormous bow wave. I smiled, and my mouth got full of water.

Anna Dorenboos | @bloomingcyclist
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that my first RAGBRAI changed my life. But this seven-day ride across Iowa pushed me to my limit and proved to me that no amount of heat, hills or saddle sores would keep me from loving my bike. Even when I called my bike a “two wheeled torture device,” there was never any question that I wouldn’t get back on it to ride mile after painful mile. Because as much as I threatened to quit, abandoning my bike, and the ride, never seemed like an option. And it’s now clear that even when I hate my bike, I still love my bike.

The picture perfect captures my RAGBRAI- red face and sweaty from the heat, bikes, tractors.

Letta Page | @lwrenhubbard
This was a year of big bike moments for me, but here are a few highlights:

June: I rode my third MS150 with the incomparable Team 1FS/Team MSisBS and working with them to raise about $12,000 for MS research. Look what a bunch of dirtbags like us can accomplish! This year I plan to go as “team support,” and, instead of riding, set up camp at Hinkley and cook everyone an actual good dinner. Even better? I’m bringing along my friend Lucy, who is a massage therapist, and her massage table so that the team can get refreshed before day 2.

August: Right after picking up @bjornery and @jessinader from their excellent finishes in the Powderhorn 24 (I do believe Jessica Nadeau tied for 2nd place in the solo women’s category!), I found myself breaking up an alley fight behind Jessica’s house (during the Pizza Luce block party, so no one could hear me yelling for someone to call the cops and my phone was dead) by basically using Jessica’s bike frame (wheels weren’t attached at the time) as a battering ram. Bjorn showed up just in time to do some cop-calling (and have his own phone cut out), and the fight broke up for good as we saw the cops turn the wrong way down the alley. Alas! At least we got to see a guy with–no kidding–swinging, flaming balls. I don’t know a better way to describe it.

September: As part of my self-declared “September of Adventure,” I cajoled Bjorn, Jessica, Kat O’Rourke, and Randy Dever into heading out to take me on my very first century ride. I rode a one-speed, I wore blue jeans, I pretty much did it all wrong, but I joyfully survived, had a great time, and even got to stop for a quick break to watch my husband earn his green belt in aikido while my teammates got their drink on at Pizza Luce Seward. September also saw me get brave enough to do my first alleycat race, joining up with Team Momo for Babes in Bikeland. It was a total thrill, I found a competitive streak I didn’t know was hiding in there, and, like prob. everyone else, I cried like an idiot at the awards ceremony dance party. Having my husband man one of the checkpoints and dutifully order me to do a cartwheel was the icing on that cake!

Think that covers the highlights!

[Photo by Bjorn Christianson]

Gavin Strange | @BOIKZMOIND
The biggest thing that happened to me and the factory of Jam was the completion and release of my fixed gear bicycle film ‘BÖIKZMÖIND’. What started as just an idea for a 2 minute web edit turned into a 30-minute long documentary which premiered to over 300 people outdoors on the BBC Big Screen in the centre of Bristol and has organised screenings in over 30 locations around the world with many more planned!

The positive response really has been truly overwhelming and has lead to some incredible opportunities; I did a TV interview the night before the premiere on BBC Regional news including a live link-up at the premiere location and also went on BBC Radio Bristol to talk about the film and fixed gear bikes in general. It wasn’t all roses though, as during the making of it I was burgled and everything taken from my flat, including all my camera equipment and my Mac. Then months later my beloved bicycle itself was stolen, so 2011 really has had its shares of ups and downs.

The most magnificent of opportunities that presented itself last year was thanks to the wonder of the Internet and social media. Kyle Snarr, New Business Director of design agency Struck out in Salt Lake City, Utah found my work online years ago thanks to Will Beaumont, an old friend from Leicester. Kyle had followed my stuff and heard about BÖIKZMÖIND from me banging on about it online, he thought that Salt Lake City would be a great place to screen the film. Thanks to excited emails back and forth that screening turned into an opportunity for me to fly out to SLC, screen the film and give a design talk, backed by the SLC chapter of AIGA, the American Institute of Graphic Arts! Wow, simply put, it was the most incredible trip I’ve ever been on. I made so many new friends, saw so many new sights (Being sat in the Utah mountains with 44,000 other people watching a college football game is something I’ll never forget!) and I was overwhelmed with the positivity and inspiration I received from being there. Thank you to Kyle, Tim and all at Struck, AIGA and beyond that made that trip come to life, I’m truly humbled by it all.

Charles K. Youel | @ARTCRANK
Like everyone who shared stories with us, I’ve had a hard time picking one “best” bike story from the past year. While making the time to ride was challenge, I enjoyed every minute I spent in the saddle. I got to explore Amsterdam by bike, and put in at least a few pedal turns in every city that hosted our show. At home in Minneapolis, I hooked with my friends Ben McCoy, Adam Turman, Adam Ziskin, Jeremy Piller, Jeremy Werst and Bjorn Christianson for Sunday morning “Gentlemen’s Rides” (and believe me, I use that term loosely). Heck, I even got to bike to the St. Louis Cardinals World Series victory parade in October, thanks to my friend and ARTCRANK St. Louis co-conspirator Carrie Zukoski. But the more I thought about, the best bike ride I had in 2011 was probably one of the shortest.

Early in 2011, I collaborated with designer Rob Angermuller and Trek on the first-ever ARTCRANK bike. (I’ll skip the back-story on this collaboration, which you can find here.) The process culminated with the arrival of a bike box on my front porch one Saturday morning in August. I spent the day down in my basement workshop, gingerly unwrapping and assembling the bike, feeling like a Coke bottle after a dozen good shakes. I’d seen the frame and fork with full graphics at Trek’s headquarters in Waterloo, WI the week before, but I’d never seen the complete bike, much less ridden it.

When I finished putting on the wheels and stood back to take it in, I was one seriously conflicted individual. I wanted nothing more than to call up everyone I knew and turn the bike’s maiden voyage into a scene out of a DOOMTREE video. But at the same time, we were working on a massive launch promotion designed to coincide with our September show in Denver, and I knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to keep it under wraps until then. So I waited until about 10:00pm, threw a blinker light on the seat post and pedaled the scant mile from our house to the Lake Harriet bike path, which I knew would deserted.

Turning the pedals, marveling at the all-but-silent belt drive and looking out across the lake at the Minneapolis skyline, I had a feeling that transcended the standard new-bike buzz. My mind traveled back to the BMX bike I built when I was 10 years old: A Schwinn frame and fork with Tuff Wheel II mags, Redline handlebars and Oakley grips. It was black when I bought it, but after a month I sanded it down to the metal and painted it white, with red decals. At that age, I wanted to have the coolest bike in the neighborhood more than anything else. Some 32 years later, riding alone in the dark on the coolest bike I’d ever seen, I was pretty sure than 10 year old me would approve.

Send your story (and photo) to charles@artcrank.com. We’ll accept new submissions through Thursday, January 12. Please include a website URL and Twitter handle as well. Thanks!

*                    *                     *

Through our travels, conversations with friends and social media chatter from around the world, we think it’s been a great year for people who love bikes. So it’s only fitting to wrap up 2011 by collecting as many great bike stories as we can between now and the stroke of midnight on Saturday, December 31. But to pull it off, we’re going to need your help.

•  Write ±100 words about your best bike story from the past year

•  If you’ve got a photo to go with it, so much the better

•  Send your story (and photo) to: charles@artcrank.com

• Please include your Twitter handle and/or your website URL as well

We’ll run a massive post with all of the stories and photos we get during the first week of January. Remember: ALL stories and photos must be in by the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve!

Roughly one year ago, I woke up in our house at 2:00am to the smell of smoke. Not the warm, woody, fire-in-the-fireplace kind of smoke, but the acrid, searing, burning-plastic kind. It’s somewhat amazing that I was the one who noticed it: my wife, who wrinkles her nose when the neighbor’s cat farts, swears that I have no sense of smell at all.

Art produced by those who are well-traveled often has an added depth and character. To wit, Ocular Invasion, the work of a Mpls-based journeyman whose youth as an always-relocating military brat has imbued his stuff with a creative cast of “characters (typographical) and characters (monstrous)” inspired by the “ever-changing landscape of cities and faces” he experienced.

ARTCRANK is a series of bicycle inspired poster exhibitions that occur in cities across America. The next upcoming shows occur in Austin on February 24 and Minneapolis on April 7. Every city with a bustling art and cycling community should have one, how about Philly next? -Bob

Pulling into morning rush hour traffic on some Minneapolis’ busiest streets was something altogether different. And while my town deserves the reputation for bike friendliness it’s earned over the past few years, my adventures in commuting began while the current network of bike paths, lanes and boulevards was but a gleam in the City Council’s eyes. And let’s face it: In any battle of bike versus car, the decision’s going to go to the four thousand pound bruiser in the bright red trunks.

My progression from nervous novice to confident commuter was surprisingly fast. Right off the bat, I realized that the best way to be treated like traffic as a cyclist was to act like traffic — and not just in the sense of at least casually observing traffic signals. I found that when I took the law at face value and staked out a full lane for myself, most drivers didn’t crowd me. To be fair, I also used open spaces to snake through blocks of stalled traffic and rolled through my share of stop signs at vacant intersections. But I didn’t recklessly blow through red lights or swerve unpredictably in and out of a lane. I made a point of making eye contact with drivers as much as possible: When people see you and acknowledge your existence as a fellow human, they’re much less likely to run over you.

I got better at sensing what cars were going to do: Who was going make an un-signaled turn, a swerving lane change, or a nonsensically sudden stop. And I discovered that pedaling side by side with cars cruising into downtown was an adrenaline rush. Not one arising from sense of danger or imminent bodily harm, but simply feeling more alive and excited to be in motion. It was a concentrated form of the pleasant rush that I’ve always gotten from biking, and I was hooked.

So what the hell happened to me?

For starters, I lost my job in the current recession to end all recessions, back in January 2009. While this is the best thing that could have happened to me, vis-à-vis ARTCRANK, it complicated the daylights out of commuting by bike. For my first year of self-employment, I worked out of my house in South Minneapolis. So my morning commute went from six miles to a flight of stairs. I had meetings at offices and coffee shops all over town, but showing up looking and smelling like I came by bike wasn’t always an option.

I also discovered that I was far worse workaholic on my own behalf than I’d ever been for anyone else (which is saying something). If I had spare time, my first instinct was to work on the next ARTCRANK event, recruit new artists or pitch potential sponsors. Social media tools like Twitter and Facebook became a bigger part of communicating with a growing audience, and a few minutes here and there throughout the day started turning into hours. As new shows outside of Minneapolis came into being, I started travelling more. And honestly, as I’ve gotten older, it’s gotten harder to talk myself out of that extra hour of sleep and into a few layers of clothing for a chilly morning ride.

Collectively, it was more exciting and rewarding than anything I’d ever done before. But the more time I spent on a poster show about bikes, the less time I spent on an actual bike.

Cycling is like any other habit (or addiction): it can be made, but it can also be broken. And after less than a year, the routine I’d developed around starting and ending my day with a bike ride was broken beyond recognition.

Today, I run ARTCRANK and my advertising business out of an office in Northeast Minneapolis, a little more than seven miles from my house. I love what I do, and a day doesn’t pass without a reflection on how lucky I am to be able to do it. What I love less is that I’ve put on about 20 pounds over the past two years. I don’t look or feel anywhere near as healthy as I did when I was riding a bike to work almost every day. And I miss the rush of riding in traffic.

I have two choices: Accept the current state of things as the new reality, given the nature of my job(s). Or make an honest effort to get back in the habit that changed my life for the better, complications and discomforts be damned. I’m giving the latter a go.

Because I have this shiny little outpost on the interweb at my disposal, I’m going to write about it from time to time. The triumphs, trials and tribulations. The good, the bad and the ugly. And believe me, there will be ugly.

Along the way, I’ll try to share what works, what doesn’t, and the odd comment about the gear that I’m relying on to get me through safe, sound and reasonably comfortable. If you’ve got advice or adventures of your own to share, I’ll be happy pass those along as well. Just send ‘em my way via email any time you like.

With that said, here goes nothing.

- Charles K. Youel

P.S. A shout-out to Ben McCoy of Bicycle Theory and MplsBikeLove for suggesting we meet for coffee and ride to work (our offices are in the same building) this morning. Good company makes the miles go faster.

What do you remember about your first bike?

Erik Noren: My first “bike” was a purple trike I used to ride around everywhere at my parents cabin. Up the hill down the hill, feet kicked out so I could go faster, on the gravel road, off the porch steps and sometimes into the pond. I ruled on that thing. I was a 4 year-old terror on it, until my mother ran it over with the Chevy Suburban. She still will not admit to it either. It was also the only time she ever drove. I had a silver bike later at 5 that I rode all over and got into many adventures that required a spanking after I got home. I guess when you are 5 you are not supposed to ride you bike by yourself and be gone for over four hours.

T.C. Worley: My first bike had a huge, padded banana seat. It was a hand-me-down that my dad had repainted blue. My sister scratched my name in the rear fender, which was yellow plastic underneath the blue paint. When it got stolen once, that’s how we identified it at the police station. Also, I learned to ride without training wheels on a plastic wheeled Strawberry Shortcake bike at my grandma’s house.

Tony Franklin: I rocked a BMX bike. It had some mean pedals that put scars on my legs. That’s what I remember.

Erik, what led you to start building your own frames?

Erik: After I worked for Croll cycles and it closed, I just didn’t know what to do. I knew I had to do something, but I was not sure how to get back into frame building. A cheap space opened up, and I knew I had to start building again. There was a hole in my heart and mind that needed to be filled.

T.C. and Tony, what inspired you to make a film about Erik and Peacock Groove?

T.C.: I had noticed Erik’s horrid website and offered to shoot photos for him in exchange for some sort of swap. He was in no position to do that at the time, but I started shooting photos anyway because I just had to — I was too intrigued to walk away. The film was born from what I saw when I’d visit the shop. At the same time, Tony wanted to collaborate on a project and this was a clear choice because to us. It had all the makings of an interesting film.

Tony: I was looking to collaborate on a project as a director. I ran into T.C. and started to talk about a subject. He brought up Erik and I could we could make an interesting story and help him out at the same time. The dude has heart and is stellar at his craft. After meeting him, I knew we had to tell the world about his metallic prowess.

How did “Deep Custom” come together?

Tony: T.C. took the reins on this. He was connected to Erik through the Minneapolis bike scene. After it was locked in I met them at the shop to discuss our story idea. Then I started looking around the shop and I was even more certain we had found gold.

T.C.: Erik was already accustomed to me hanging around and was flattered at the idea of a video. Despite what some people think, he’s a humble person. He’s been amazing about allowing us access and being available any time we needed him. My respect for Erik is second only to my admiration of his skills. He’s a neat guy, and one I like to call my friend.

Erik: I remember it being something T.C. and Tony wanted to do. What their vision of what goes down at the shop, and the feel of the Groove, and well, I guess me. It is weird saying that. I don’t think I am that interesting, so I must be amusing to them or something. What T.C. said to me one day kinda puts it in perspective: “ I want people to see the Erik Noren that I know.” That really meant a lot to me, because I really feel that I am misunderstood a lot of the time. Sometimes people just take things that are not worth it too seriously.

Erik, how does it feel to watch a film about yourself and the way you make bikes?

Erik: I don’t know, because they haven’t let me see it yet.

No way. Seriously?

Erik: I think that they knew it they sent me a final edit I would probably blab it all over and ruin the premiere. But, I am weirded out by the whole “Come watch me talk about bike stuff on the big screen” thing. On the other hand, it is nice to have someone say, hey nice job on working your ass off for the last nine years building up Peacock Groove. What’s even better is all the stuff yet to come out of this shop.

T.C. and Tony, having made a film about someone who builds one-of-a-kind bicycles by hand, do you look at bikes differently?

Tony: It’s definitely opened my eyes to the world of custom bikes and how difficult it is to do it right. Of course, Erik makes it look effortless. But that’s probably because he’s the Liberace of Bicycles.

T.C.: I already valued a custom bike above an assembly line bike, but far more so now. The way Erik touches every part of the bike is special. And where a lot of custom builders are really small-batch builders, he is truly custom. Each bike is different. There are no “models” with different sizes. He’s a gifted craftsman. He’s also supposedly working on my next mountain bike. I can’t wait to ride it!

Erik, what are some of the design features or techniques that are unique to a Peacock Groove bike?

Erik: I would say the head badge and dropouts. It’s just not that, though, I think it is the use of certain technologies paired with the creative spirit that make me always want more. It is in the application of these things and how they relate to the customer I am working with too. How do they all add up? They sum of it is always more than just the parts that go into it for me. The whole experience and the happy customer is what makes it truly a Peacock.

You have a strong point of view about, well, everything. Do you ever refuse to take on a project because it doesn’t jive with what you want to do as a builder?

Erik: Yes, I have done just that. I believe that there are things out there that just don’t work in the long run. After building for so many years and seeing what goes on out there sometimes, I just shake my head. Just ‘cause you see it in an ad doesn’t make it work in the real world. For example: eccentric bottom brackets, extended seat tubes, and slider dropouts. I don’t do those things and the box here is too small to explain why. I try and make the best bike I can to the person who ordered it. I don’t do fads. We make real shit that works. Then we paint it all sparkly and stuff.

You’ve built a ton of bikes. Does one in particular stand out as a favorite?

Erik: I really, really like the Yellow Lion Voltron bike I made a little bit ago. It is something I have wanted to do for over a decade to do. I have a lot that I hold in high regard, but right now I think its that one. Or, my Country Mile. Or the Old Style bike. Oh geez…

T.C. and Tony, sum up “Deep Custom” in one sentence.

T.C.: “Deep Custom” is an honest look at a custom bicycle frame builder whose creativity and passion has set him in a class of his own.

Tony: “Deep Custom” is about a man with a welding torch, a dream, curiously sculpted facial hair and a huge heart.

If you had to choose one bike to ride for the rest of your life, what would it be?

T.C.: I’d choose a steel CX bike with fat tires, maybe 44’s, and wide drop bars so that I could go relatively fast on the road, but also tear up some singletrack if the chance arose. Okay, this makes me miss summer…

Tony: I dig riding downhill bikes in the right location. I had a Marin Wildcat for a while and had a blast riding out west, Lutsen, and some private courses in Wisconsin. Here in the cities, I’ll stick with my single speed.

Erik: My Country Mile, the gold bike in the video. I love that bike, its just incredible.