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The Underground “Recyclers”

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I consider myself to have insider access to cycling culture. I’ve ridden with road riders, done my share of mountain biking, and now am a regular bicycle commuter. But there are communities of cyclists I haven’t engaged with. I live in the same city as Simon, who has cycled just as much as I have, but I don’t know very much about his experiences.

During my 30 years in retailing and designing bikes, I noticed "recyclers" with their bikes. I often saw them struggling in all weather to pick recyclable materials like cans, bottles, and cardboard from street receptacles and residential recycling boxes in various areas of the city. They lead a challenging and marginalized life, navigating on their bicycle laden with their collections, sometimes pulling makeshift carts. They sell their wares to recycling centers, where they get paid $10 to $100 per day. Many face housing insecurity or homelessness, and along with mental and physical health challenges, they struggle for survival. Despite these challenges, some recyclers find a sense of independence as they cycle around their “trap line”.

Cycling through the Downtown Eastside (DTES) Vancouver, Simon rode up to Our Community Bikes. Simon, in his fifties, has been recycling in Vancouver for almost 20 years after moving from Halifax. He’s slim, with a gaunt face, missing teeth, and with a sideways bend in his back. “They call it scoliosis, I don’t know if you have heard of it, but it makes me not enjoy walking much.”

“I love to be on my bike!” Simon told me. He rides a Norco, an old blue mountain bike with chrome bars and worn tires. The trailer is an old child carrier that he has stripped down and rebuilt to carry his collections. “The gears aren’t that great, that’s why I’m here.”

For the unknown and underground community of “recyclers” that cycle and recycle, Our Community Bikes is inextricably linked to their income and their livelihood. I spent a number of years on and off consulting for OCB. It’s a multi-purpose space offering bike sales and maintenance, used parts and refurbished used bikes. But what sets OCB apart from all other bike stores is that they champion the affordability of cycling. This is expressed in three core programs: Pedals for the People, which provides free bikes and subsidized bike maintenance to people in need; Youth Bike Club, teaching 12-to-19-year-olds to build bikes; and Gear Up, a mechanic training program.

In most Vancouver bike shops Simon’s bike and cart would be unwelcome. When I owned West Point Cycles in Vancouver and Geroge’s in Edmonton, the very few recyclers we had as clients always had monetary constraints. I’m sure they felt out of place, marginalized by the dominant expensive biking culture in these stores.

The OCB view of the needs and values of cyclists is so different from the five stores I used to own, prior to Rocky Mountain Bicycles. These stores catered to a typical cycling clientele. I still find my distinctive subjective views about money can conspire against the OCB view of how a bike store works. I find myself grappling with what makes a "real" bike shop. This mindset, shaped by years in retail, doesn’t fit easily with the non-profit model of community-focused bike stores such as OCB.

Simon feels at home at OCB because when he arrives, he’s welcomed and respected. This is his bike shop, and he’s recognized here. This shop is a beautiful anomaly to me, one that challenges my preconceived notions and helps me see people like Simon more clearly. It’s a reminder that our rigid views on money can create barriers, not just in commerce but in human connection.

I found new freedom in working with OCB, in letting go of my views of the role of money in bicycles. These views would have caused me to miss Simon as a valuable member of my community.

What rigid ideas about money do you hold on to? Open up the possibility for more meaningful relationships and a deeper understanding by exploring how the diverse ways others in our community live and navigate their world. Only by shifting our focus from profit to people can we build communities where everyone is truly seen, valued, and connected.

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PS - I’d love to connect on LinkedIn if you’re on there.

See you next week,

Grayson

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