Alleycat race draws enthusiasts

If you've lived or worked in downtown Charleston in the past couple of years or so, you may have noticed an increase in bike traffic — and not necessarily of the colorful spandex, jock variety.

Many are of the urban variety, wearing street clothes and riding at a more comfortable, commuting pace.

A significant number also are relatively young, college age to mid-20s, and have a style that leans heavily toward urban hipster, often sporting tattoos and funky haircuts, wearing "skinny" jeans or baggy shorts, reused clothes and sneakers, and often forgoing the helmet.

Like their counterparts in other cities, they often ride used bikes or "fixies," fixed-gear bikes, as their primary mode of transportation, for economic and/or environmental reasons. Those both inside and out refer to it as a "bike culture" in which the simplest, cleanest and most efficient mode of transportation is central.

Many who embrace it as a culture try to promote bicycling by volunteering for bike cooperatives, such as Charleston's Holy City Bike Co-op, and link with other like-minded organizations and businesses, such as bike shops, coffee houses and music stores.

Though such a culture has existed in major cities for years, 25-year-old Dan Kelly, who volunteers with Holy City, says the gas price spike last year, along with a subsequent increase in environmental awareness, seemed to spark it among 20-somethings in Charleston.

"And once you get on the bike, you find it's more enjoyable than driving a car," says Kelly, a Clemson landscape architect graduate who frequently commutes to work by bike.

Similar to the young "subculture" of the 1960s, those in the bike culture organize and promote bicycling, for everyone, on a grass-roots, community level. Many bike co-ops, for example, don't have leaders or officers, such as a president or chairman. Meetings are arranged by fairly anonymous e-mails and Web sites.

In the past year, volunteers with Holy City have organized or participated in several bike repair clinics and bike valets (helping park and secure bikes for events drawing lots of cyclists) as well as fostered their own events such as potlucks and "alleycat" races.

Alleycat races, which originated with bike messengers in Toronto in 1989, are typically informal, unsanctioned urban races that usually also involve checkpoints, trivia and tricks.

Last weekend, an alleycat race was among several bike-oriented events held in the final days of National Bike Month, also including a "Mystery Midnight Ride" through downtown Charleston, a Holy City Bike Co-op benefit at one of the hubs of downtown bike culture, The Recovery Room on King Street, and a bike trick competition in the parking garage near the S.C. Aquarium.

Sunday afternoon's Suicide King Alleycat Race, which drew 43 participants, got its name because the race started with a grueling leg along the entire length of King Street from North Charleston to The Battery, where racers picked up a manifest with the rest of the race checkpoints. "Suicide" was a darkly humorous reference to the obstacles along the way — potholes, cars and opening car doors, stoplights and intersections, and often oblivious tourists and pedestrians.

Suicide King was organized by "no one" because getting a permit for such an event would be impossible and because of liability issues. No waivers are necessary if there is no one to sue.

Part of Sunday's race included checkpoints at an Elizabeth Street pocket park, where a required photo was taken of each participant, and on the Cooper River bridge, where participants had to ride up to the first diamond tower, get off their bikes and run to the second diamond and back. The finish was at Hampton Park where refreshments and a Slip 'n Slide awaited hot, sweaty bikers.

While such a subculture would seemingly frown on competition, some of the participants were seriously trying to win.

"It's a race, but not a race," says Laurel Black, a 22-year-old who is one course away from completing a double major in biochemistry and molecular biology.

Black enjoyed cycling long before embracing bike culture and riding a fixed-gear bike, which she got into because of her boyfriend, Frank Hammond. The aspiring professional cyclist (one of few racers who wore cycling shorts Sunday) built a fixie for Black, who has raced in more than a dozen alleycats across the Southeast but sat out the Suicide King because of wisdom tooth surgery.

Black says she and others enjoy fixed-gear bikes (which really have no gears) partly because of the simplicity of the bikes, which fit the simple, eco-friendly lifestyles that many try to follow.

Local environmental advocate Nikki Seibert, 26, was volunteering at the Elizabeth Street park for Suicide King and says many in bike culture have gone car-free, which makes them dependent on their bikes.

"Most people in bike culture really understand how their bikes work, they work on their bikes and they fix their bikes up," says Seibert. "For me, if my bike breaks down, I may not get to work."

On the flip side of that, Seibert adds, is that some consumerism is creeping into the culture. Fixed-gear bikes, while often using used frames, often are tricked out with special handlebars and brightly colored chains, rims or tires.

Time will tell whether the "fixie" trend and bike culture is a passing fad or a lifestyle of the future.

"It seems to be peaking here (in Charleston)," notes Seibert, "only because, like everything, it caught on here later."

Reach David Quick at 937-5516 or dquick@postandcourier.com.