By: Halla Dontje Lindell
If conspiratorial tones or muffled chuckling is heard around either of the Cycles for Change shops, there is a strong chance Jacob Schile (he/him/his), St. Paul Shop Programs Coordinator, or Andrew Magill (he/him/his), Minneapolis Shop Programs Coordinator, is nearby.
These mechanics and teachers are the backbone of Open Shop at Cycles for Change, where they move from assisting one person to another—whether a neighborhood kid riding a battered BMX bike, someone with a brand new just-came-in-the-mail bike, a youth apprentice, a volunteer mechanic, or another staff member—all in stride. Although Andrew jokingly maintains that he spends most of his working hours picking up nitro cold press for the rest of the mechanic team, Jacob more accurately describes the work they both do as “answering questions about a variety of issues, but usually about bicycles.” Their joking, despite the oftentimes chaotic atmosphere of Open Shop, can be characterized by Jacob’s main catchphrase: “I’m just aiming for the most smiles per mile.”
Jacob was born and raised in Cedar Rapids, IA, but claims his “hometown” as Planet Earth, Alpha Centauri. Andrew is similarly hesitant to claim one specific hometown, but admits to growing up in Milwaukee, WI. And both Midwesterners didn’t fully embrace the bike scene until they were college students.
“I started biking when I was a kid, stopped biking when I got a car, and started biking [again] in college when I found a bike on the side of a road,” Jacob said. “I used biking for freedom. I liked to be able to just disappear. I started learning bike mechanics four years ago when I got a job fixing bikes at Erik’s [Bike Shop]. I’d worked on mopeds, but never fixing bicycles. Where did I learn to fix mopeds? The internet—same place I learned the most about bicycles.”
Andrew, on the other hand, became captivated by bicycling while riding a more upscale bike.
“My parents had bikes when I was real little,” Andrew said. “My mom had a 5-speed with a seat on the back that I would ride on; my dad would commute to work on a bicycle and in high school I would bike to school some. When I graduated from high school I got a Takara. Rad, it was rad. That was my only bike for close to ten years; I just rode it everywhere. When I went to college I would go on rides and get away from studying and all that, explore and get to places. I didn’t have a car. That’s probably when I fell in love [with biking]: in college. I still have that [Takara] frame.”
What keeps Jacob and Andrew motivated at work is the joy of repairing bikes as well as the connections they are able to make with their co-workers and a wide community of Open Shop participants.
“Taking something that doesn’t work and making it better is satisfying,” Andrew said. “Like a lot of things, with bike repairs, there’s always something new to learn. Even though you fix a million flats, you can always learn about something that’s been around for a long time that you didn’t know about or some new technology that’s cool and actually pretty complicated. And I think with many bikes—not all—form and function meet. Bikes are tools to get around, but also impressive works of design. Bikes can be artistic and beautiful, and I think that keeps things interesting.”
Likewise, Jacob explains that in our day and age, things are more difficult to get repaired.
“Open up a car, nowadays, and there’s one piece of plastic over the hood,” he said. “We have all these electronics and they’re trying to ban the ‘Right to Repair’ in many states. Lots of people don’t get the opportunity to challenge themselves mechanically or they think ‘I’m not a mechanical person, and I can’t fix stuff.’ But if they hear about us and they end up here, we can teach the simplicity of the bicycle. You can learn how to fix a flat, you can learn how to adjust a brake, and you can feel some ownership over your bicycle. It’s no longer just a tool you’re using, but a tool you know how to fix. And it feels empowering to be able to offer those skills.”
Their passion isn’t limited to bicycles themselves, and includes the personal aspect of bike repair.
“I think getting to hear a bit about a person’s story, like why they want to buy a bike or how they got into biking or why they have this particular bike, and getting to know them a little is really cool, “ Andrew explained. “A bike is an object, but there’s a human side. Each bike that comes in comes in with a person.”
And at a time when many are thinking deeply about the power of collective and individual action to achieve change, Jacob and Andrew agree that fixing bikes is simply one (powerful) part of a larger movement.
“One time I saw this sign in the lobby of an apartment building that said ‘What skills do you have for the apocalypse?’” Andrew recalled. “Bike repair will definitely be needed. And more seriously, when we hit a point when we don’t have petroleum to fuel vehicles, people will still need a way to get around. Bikes are one way to slow the effects of climate change, and I also think it is easier to interact with people in public when you’re on a bike rather than in a car. That’s one of the things about a community bike shop—people come in from different walks of life but with a common interest. People have different things they are skilled at and passionate about, and all of that is needed. But people have to get to the protest, right? Direct action is important, but so is behind the scenes work.”
Jacob sees a community bike shop as an opportunity to model a shifting paradigm.
“Having a space like this, we can role model that there are alternate ways to meet problems,” he said. “Maybe someone has other skills, and they can see this model and be inspired. Riding a bicycle, even when only one trip a week, it’s still one trip a week saved. And more importantly, when the world’s falling apart, biking can give you some endorphins to think better and feel better.”
Finally, the program coordinators emphasize their gratitude that they are a part of the Cycles for Change community.
“If you have to make a living, if you can do it in a way that makes someone’s day better or advances someone’s ability to do something around bikes, that’s a cool thing,” Andrew said
“There’s not a place I have ever known like C4C,” Jacob echoed. “And if I’m going to trade my time for money, I think this is one of the luckiest opportunities I have to do that.”
By: Halla Dontje Lindell, Cycles for Change Intern
Ever wondered who’s behind Cycles for Change’s Learn to Ride Program? And what is their story? Although there are many hands involved in bringing this program to the community, Anneka Kimiecik (they/them), Community Outreach and Program Associate, and Pacha Galavis (she/her), Learn to Ride and Bike Grant Program Coordinator, do much of the heavy lifting.
Anneka, who joined the Cycles for Change team this year, didn’t have a linear experience learning to ride a bicycle. They first hopped on a bike when they were six or seven, while living on an agricultural research station near Madison, WI.
“My dad taught me, but when spring came after a winter of not riding, I couldn’t remember how to ride a bicycle,” Anneka said. “I got really frustrated, and was like, ‘no, forget it!’”
However, because both their parents worked full-time, Anneka spent afternoons with the kids of a neighboring farm family. Then those kids decided to go on a bike ride.
“I didn’t want to be left behind, so I found this green bike that sort of fit me, and I said I was coming too,” Anneka recalled. “I retaught myself how to ride by gliding down [the neighboring family’s] driveway so that I could bike with all of the other kids. I continued to practice on a big hill by a machine shed, where I would see if I could bomb down it really fast and then coast all the way to my front door.”
Anneka has since upgraded from that ill-fitting, borrowed green bike, and owns a track bike, a singlespeed cross bike that they ride in the winter, and a Surly cross trek that they use for bike camping. Biking is foundational to Anneka’s lifestyle. Although they have a driver’s license and legally could drive, they’ve remarkably driven a car just three times in the past seven years. Anneka did own a car when first living in the metro area, but when it was ruined in a flood they decided to seize the opportunity to go carless.
Anneka’s primary form of transportation became city buses, with a small amount of biking mixed in. Then, in 2004, Twin Cities bus drivers went on strike for over a month. Instead of busing, Anneka started biking everyday.
“I loved it, and I never looked back,” they said. “I didn’t go back to riding the bus [after the strike ended]; I just kept biking.”
Pacha, who’s beginning her second year working at Cycles for Change, first had a bike as a kid living in North Carolina. Although her mom loved to bike, the lack of trails and roads that could safely accommodate her made rides a rare occurrence for Pacha. She later joined her dad in Minneapolis. He did not have a car and biked throughout the winter despite having a low-budget bike and no fancy equipment.
“I fell in love with biking during those years because I got to spend time with my dad and go around town” she said. “Exploring the river, woods, and the street was the best part.” She has replaced the “super heavy and horrible” bike her dad bought her from the Lake Street K-Mart with a hybrid Bianchi Grizzly, and continues to explore the city.
When reflecting on the Learn to Ride program, both Anneka and Pacha mentioned the excitement they witness in participants.
“When I started [Learn to Ride], I knew I loved to bike and I wanted to share that,” Pacha said. “But I didn’t realize how life changing it is, and how much it means to people who go to the classes.” The “overjoyed, geeked-out, ‘like a little kid’ reaction” that people have when they start pedaling gets her out of bed on Saturday mornings.
“There’s a lasting impact that I really appreciate and that makes the work fulfilling,” she says. “There are people I have connections with even when their session is finished. There’s real friendship there, and it’s not just ‘you’re my instructor and I’m your student’, but instead ‘wow, you really helped me do this and you did it with care, so therefore let’s be friends and bicyclists in this community together.’ I feel like could call them up right now and say ‘Hey, what’s up?” I’ve gotten to know people in my community, and that’s really important to me. I’m going to be around here for a while, so I should get to know my neighbors.”
“So many adults feel that they are the only adult that doesn’t know how to ride a bicycle,” Anneka said. “And then everyone comes together with different stories…but they have this goal and they’re doing it. I love that and I love the fact that the majority of Learn to Ride participants are women of color. I want to see more women and more people of color feel that they can take over the trails of Minneapolis.”
This summer, Pacha will be passing Learn to Ride leadership to Anneka so she can focus on expanding the Bike Grant Program. Anneka will bring their own wisdom and experience to the Learn to Ride Program as a long-time biker and educator, and both Anneka and Pacha will continue to serve large community needs.