by Brendan Leonard

Opinion

Wednesdays with Maynard - Part 2

Part two of an interview with Maynard Hershon.

[Part one was published in the Bicycle Paper April ‘08 issue. Maynard’s comments appear in bold.]

I know Maynard, the subject of this interview, because I ride a steel bicycle my friend Nick gave me. He also pointed me to Salvagetti Bicycle Workshop where I go to replace the parts I keep breaking on the bike. That’s where I met Maynard.

Maynard also has steel bikes, three of them: A pink 1990 Lighthouse, a blue 2000 Rivendell and a 2006 charcoal gray Bike Friday Pocket Rocket Pro.

He told me once, “Everyone who made my bikes is a prince.”

He’s got sentimental relationships with the bikes and the people who made them. I feel the same way. We don’t talk about my bike; it’s old, tough, nicked, scratched and I wrecked it once. It sports unfashionable gears and brakes, but it moves like a bullet when I make it do so—and puts a smile on my face. That’s all I know about bicycles, really.

I met Maynard at the 8 a.m. Sunday Salvagetti Breakfast Ride, a sort of Sunday service for people who like bikes but don’t wear Lycra. Maynard, who does occasionally wear Lycra, found out about the shop within days of moving to the Denver University area from Tucson. He attended his first Breakfast Ride and has been a Sunday fixture since.

In fact, I spent Easter Sunday last year on the smallest Breakfast Ride to date (to my knowledge). Maynard, Salvagetti owner Scott Taylor and I went to Metropolis Coffee on 11th and Cherokee, ate bagels from Moe’s and BSed for four hours. [Only three people this Easter too!]

There was an inch of snow on the ground. I had eased my bike down to the shop, not knowing if anyone else would show. Scott and I had sat for a few minutes when Maynard popped through the door, confessing that he’d ridden the light rail, not his bike.

He’d crashed a few days earlier on a group ride near Chatfield State Park and was still a little skittish, especially riding in the snow. Maynard wanted to talk about the circumstances of the crash, and how he was the only person on the ride who had actually ridden his bicycle to the start.

Everyone else had driven cars or SUVs with racks on them, then pulled expensive bikes off the racks and ridden them.

“Why is that?” Maynard asked.

Well, that’s the way Maynard is, since I’ve known him, anyway: A little angry about the way we use bicycles and cars in the U.S. And that’s what he writes about. After 20-some years writing about cycling culture and racing, he’s now wondering why the bicycle has become just a piece of exercise equipment.

“Ride, don’t drive,” Maynard says. “I’ve become the guy who writes about that as much as anybody in America.” Maynard doesn’t own a car; a motorcycle, yes. He’s been writing about them for years too, but they don’t interest me, so we never talk about them.

I know Maynard agrees with the statement in the next paragraph (and could probably put it more eloquently) [not]. I know because our conversations, even if they start somewhere else (politics, the new Coen brothers movie, the hipsters at the next table), always detour to bicycles and how the people who ride them in Denver are treated.

My take is that we’re treated like obstacles most of the time but hopefully not like targets, though it feels like that sometimes. Maynard’s take?

“If you use a bike for transportation, you are not in the mainstream in America,” he says. “You put up with a lot, and I’m not just talking about the weather. You’re made to feel like an intruder. It’s a heavy emotional burden to bear. I think that burden is much more easily borne in the company of others who share the same experiences.”

That’s why we get together for coffee. This time we met so I could “interview” Maynard, or just record some of the stuff we talk about nearly every time we sit down together.

The only “real interview” question we got to in about two hours of talking was “What are five things you like about Denver, Maynard?” For background, in his 65 years, he’s lived in Flint, Mich.; Indianapolis and Bloomington, Ind.; the San Francisco Bay area; Tacoma, Wash.; Chico, Calif., and most recently in Tucson, Ariz.

He and Tamar hadn’t checked out the 650 miles of bike paths or researched the city that much before they moved here in Nov. 2006, but by my estimate, they’re pretty excited about it.

Here’s the list of five things Maynard likes about Denver—in no particular order:

1) The bike paths.

“The off-street bike paths not only enable us to get around without being around cars, they mean that drivers are exposed to fewer of us. It’s better for everybody. It keeps drivers from holding grudges when they feel they’ve been offended, which is anytime.

“We ride the bike path and not very far away, there’s the road. If you’re on the South Platte Path for instance, you’re close to South Santa Fe Drive. What do you hear from up there? Horns honking, brakes screeching, people screaming at each other. Priests and rabbis cursing at mental healthcare providers for cutting them off, sounds of accidents—who would want to be there?”

2) The bike shops.

“We have so many great bike shops. Like Seattle or Portland, I’d say.”

3) The Salvagetti Breakfast Ride.

“How ‘bout that Breakfast Ride? We wouldn’t know you, Brendan; we wouldn’t be living where we’re living. (Mark, one of the Sunday morning guys, hooked Maynard and Tamar up with their apartment.) There’re just so many things.

“If I need to know how to find help with anything, any sort of thing, I ask somebody on the Breakfast Ride. It’s just the best bunch of folks. [I’m not sure I said what I meant here. The conversations, the interaction over breakfast...something unique happens on these Sunday mornings. I’ve invited several friends—they’re never disappointed.]

4) Capitol Hill.

“I like our neighborhood. I like Capitol Hill. I like living next to the ‘Gayborhood.’” (note: I have lived in the ‘Gayborhood’ for a year and a half and had never heard it called the ‘Gayborhood’ until Maynard said it. I need to get out more.)

“It’s a genuine neighborhood. You know everybody; they wave at you when you walk by. Do you ever shop in that Ace Hardware at 9th and Corona? It’s zany in there, really fun, and the guys know you.

“And do you ever go sit in front of DazBog (coffee shop at 9th and Downing)? If an outrageous guy feels like being outrageous, he’s home. He doesn’t have to worry about it. He can be who he wants to be. How many places can people be who they want to be?”

5) The patio at the Denver Flagship REI.

“What a luxury to have a place like that where can you sit outside and have a coffee. It’s at the confluence of the South Platte River and Cherry Creek. Hundreds of cyclists on a weekend day. You can reach it on your bicycle [on the Cherry Creek path] and feel safe. [You go into Starbucks, you come back out and your bike is still there.]

My friend and neighbor, famous cycling writer Maynard Hershon, who’s traveled the world, ridden all over Europe, eaten dinner with Lance Armstrong, owns bikes made by people who handcraft beautiful bikes...bought me two cups of coffee to let him borrow my air mattress. [Thanks again, Brendan!]

I’m actually really proud of the whole air mattress thing. I think he kind of is, too. [Why, I liked it so much, I bought the company!]

For more information on trails in Denver, go to: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/09/29/AR2006092900626.html.