SIC TRANSIT CYCLES in LOWERTOWN

Two Guys on a Vintage Bike Mission
Two young entrepreneurs are breaking into the bike business here in Ann Arbor. Michael Firn and Joe Bollinger have immersed themselves in the world of used and vintage bikes, doing repairs and making acquisitions out of a commercial garage in the Lowertown area that was a car detailing business not long ago. This is a part-time venture for them so far. They both work other jobs to survive, Joe at Detroit Edison and Michael at Pacific Rim. But they're also open seven days a week, 11am to 4pm. These are busy guys on a mission.






















Why the name Sic Transit? It's part of a Latin phrase, sic transit gloria mundi, which roughly translated means "so passes the glory of the world," or "so the glory of the world shall fade." But these guys are arresting that phase of the quick passing of bikes from our past. They're keeping the glory of these selected bikes alive. Or another way to interpret the phrase is they allow the glory of these bikes to pass in front of us as they wheel down the street. There are other places in town where these old bikes are sold, but few of those bikes are revitalized to any semblance of their past glory.

The emphasis at Sic Transit is to revive that previous dignity by restoring high quality vintage and used bikes. They like their bikes to be steel, lugged, and double butted with aluminum wheels when possible. Bikes from the 60s, 70s and 80s are their main focus. They also do conversions to single speed and fixed gear. "These old bikes are great for that," said Michael. "They have the horizontal dropouts, unlike most modern bikes." They have a few fixie examples for sale in the shop. But most of their sales are with their wide range of geared bikes.

All of their bikes are given a thorough once-over, replacing old and worn parts with high quality new ones. Each completed bike looks crisp and ready for its new life. There's obvious pride in what goes out the door. Joe, the more mechanically focused of the two, says "this is a great way to enjoy a bike. I have it for a short time, then I pass it on."

When asked what they don't sell, they chimed, "chain store bikes" in unison. They said that unfortunately they're basically made to be thrown out after their short life.


Their selection is growing. Michael spends time acquiring and says he loves the hunt. So far they have a nice range of mid-level bikes, mostly from the 70s and 80s from my quick survey of their offerings. A 1975 Schwinn Paramount, an early 80s Goldensports Zebrakenno, a 1985 Panasonic DX 2000, a 1983 Peugeot PFN 10, a Schwinn Prologue, a Bianchi Trofeo, and even a late model Cannondale Cyclocross 800 snuck amongst the old timers. Most of the current bikes are in the $250 to $500 range.

Joe wants to spend some time with the old frames and bring them into the 21st century with up-to-date components. The best of both worlds. But for now they're building the business one step at a time, bringing the old classic bikes back to life. They want to be known as a good neighborhood bike shop selling quality stuff that is functional for everyday use and abuse.

If you're looking to sell, they buy old bikes. They also plan on selling parts for older bikes. There's no website up yet. Michael wants the website to look good before they venture off into cyberspace, but even their emphasis on old technology needs to be marketed with new technology. It's only a matter of time.
The shop is located at 1033 Broadway in a brown brick building that actually faces Pontiac Trail. Check them out. They're growing and learning as they go and they'd probably be glad to get some feedback on what people are interested in and just chat about the vintage bike world.

Sic Transit Cycles 1033 Broadway Ann Arbor, MI 48105 734.327.6900 Every Day, 11am-4pm

The Denial of Dangerous Drivers

Limitless Speed
A couple weeks ago I learned something that came as a big surprise. Unless otherwise posted, the legal speed limit on rural dirt roads in this state is 55 mph. Knowledge comes to us through interesting messengers sometimes.

I was standing at the edge of Liberty Road about a half-mile or so west of Zeeb shooting a photo of the sign at Devine Preserve, part of the Washtenaw County Parks system. Liberty at this point is a dirt road. Or, as designated by the state, a gravel road. It's a long straight east-west line of a road. I heard something in the distance and looked to my left. A car was headed my way with a large trail of dust billowing behind. I raised my camera and clicked the first photo. The car was rapidly approaching. I Iifted my camera for the next shot and then realized that the car was not slowing down. I took a step to the side of the road and turned to watch it blow by at an amazingly high rate of speed. There is nowhere else to stand or walk on dirt roads unless you want to be in the layer of brush and poison ivy.

Communication
I was immediately pelted by a barrage of small stones. I stared at the car with a combination of frustration and disbelief as it receded toward Zeeb. I then did something that I don't do much. I moved to the middle of the road, lifted my right arm and erected the middle finger on my hand. I saw no other way to signal my discontent with such a foolish, rude and dangerous act.

I never raise my middle finger. As a cyclist there are all kinds of indignities that are suffered in silence, though I do mutter here and there. They happen at least once on most rides. I'm not used to the rudeness or ignorance of drivers, but neither am I in favor of lowering myself to their level of immature behavior. But in this case I felt I needed to let this driver know that what he did was both dangerous and ridiculously stupid.

Even at that rapidly receding distance his discerning eye noticed my small upraised middle finger. His brake lights came on immediately and he locked the brakes of his car in order to stop, spraying more gravel. He turned the car around in the middle of the road and returning at a high rate of speed he came back to where I stood, which was now in the middle of the road. I was curious to see what kind of person this was and what his rationale was for his actions.

He looked to be in his mid to late thirties, puffy faced. His jaw was firm and he was screaming at me even before he brought his car to a complete halt. "How dare you give me the middle finger!" he shouted.

"You were going awfully fast," I said. "You sprayed me with gravel."

"It's a 55 mile per hour speed limit," he retorted. "That's the speed limit. I have every right."

"It's just inconsiderate," I replied. I can't say I felt calm, but I kept my tone even and unemotional, though I felt my heart thumping at a high rate of speed. It was hard not to match his level of furious anger, but I realized that the best I could do was let him know my position. I didn't know if he was drunk or high or what, but he didn't seem so. He just seemed angry. He was probably angry about a lot of things other than my middle finger, but that certainly gave him something to focus his energy on.

Irr-rationale
He began to exaggerate his argument in order to win his point. "You were standing in the middle of the road. What do you expect when there's traffic going by?" I wasn't standing in the middle of the road when he passed. I was now, but at that time I had enough sense to move as close to the edge as I could so as not to be run over or get pelted too intensely by flying gravel.

We were not more than three feet apart and I thought it rather interesting that I could actually confront someone who'd performed a foolish act on the road. While biking I've been yelled at, pushed off the road by the deliberate movement of 3000 pounds of metal, blown by at excessive rates of speed within inches of my handlebars, had people scream in my ear while they lean out their car window, and had objects thrown at me, not because I did something to instigate such acts, but simply because I was in the same road as they were in. A guy once pulled his pickup out of a subdivision onto Huron River Drive where I was riding and proceeded to use his front bumper to edge me off the road and not just into the shoulder, but into the adjoining brush. We watched each other the whole time as if I were a sheep he was carefully herding. It was all very slow and deliberate. But when he was done, he didn't stop to talk about it. In every case, none of them stopped to discuss the situation.

So when this guy decided to come talk to me, I was kind of honored and a little taken aback. Granted, I wasn't on a bike, but I was the body in the road and he had the indisputable advantage with all 3000 pounds of encompassing vehicle at his disposal. One funny thought crossed my mind as we were talking, though I wasn't there to argue with him or rile him up any more, so I didn't bring it up at the time. I wondered that he'd been in such a hurry, yet he was wasting a lot of time justifying his actions to me as we spoke there in the road together. If he had been driving at a safe reasonable speed, he'd probably be a good part of the way to where he was going by that point.

Of course, he was going to prove to me he had every right to do what he did. And at one level, he was right. The foolish law gave him the legal right to travel at 55 on a gravel road.

The Law
However, there was a part of that law that I think he missed. Here's how it goes:

Michigan Vehicle Code sets the statewide maximum speed limit on all unposted highways at 55 mph. Gravel roads are included in this. Gravel roads are currently excluded from the process of lowering posted speeds through a Traffic Control Order due to the changing conditions of these roads. The Basic Speed Law, MCL 257.627, adequately covers these changing conditions by requiring drivers to "drive at a careful and prudent speed not greater than nor less than is reasonable and proper, having due regard to the traffic,surface, and width of the highway and of any other condition then existing." (italics mine)

--http://www.michigan.gov/msp/0,1607,7-123-1586_27094-73839--,00.html
Michigan State Police: Traffic Laws FAQs

The part I emphasize is the part he missed. The "careful and prudent speed " part. It apparently didn't adequately cover these changing conditions for him. I really do hope that someday, before someone gets seriously hurt by this knucklehead and knuckleheads like him, that he feels some shame for his actions. He didn't feel it that day from what I could tell, but by the time he left he wasn't yelling and he knew that he'd passed a flesh and bone human being who respects his right to travel carefully on our roads, but who isn't impressed when he acts so irresponsibly.

Honey is Sticky Stuff
His final words were helpful, but not in the way he intended. "How come so many people give me the finger when I'm driving the speed limit?" he asked quizzically. "It happens all the time." The comment dripped with irony. He'd dipped his hand into the beehive of self denial. There was a long pause. I sighed. He really did look puzzled. If he was that ignorant, it was going to take a lot of work to get those angry bees of revelation flying around his head to have any effect on his thick skull. Meanwhile, he licked the witless honey off his fingers, turned the car around and hurried down the road in a cloud of dust.