Winnipeg Free Press
By Linda Quattrin, Staff Writer
Crouched low over the handlebars,- they take corners at warp speed, swerve deftly to avoid lane- changing buses and squeeze through impossible curbside parking spots.
If you do a lot of downtown driving, you may have thrown a few choice words in their direction.
But, like it or lump it, a handful of bicycle messengers are out there proving that in the competitive world of couriers, two wheels are often better than four.
"Sometimes they're faster, especially when the traffic is ridiculous," says Renee Lawson, owner of a St. Boniface courier company which has used a cyclist for deliveries to the downtown core for the past four years.
"He's so efficient at it, he was away sick one day and we had all kinds of calls asking when he'd be back."
It's a job that seems to attract a motley collection of self-motivated individualists, mainly young men, with all sorts of different experiences.
Winnipeg's corps of bike couriers once included a former lawyer and part-time comedian; a ballroom dance instructor started riding last year.
After eight years in the military reserves, Dan Capek is one of the city's veteran cycling couriers, with more than two years experience under his trim-waisted belt.
He says a lot of rookies start out in search of the ruggedly glamorous life of the urban rebel, typified by Kevin Bacon, in the 1986 box-office bomb, Quicksilver.
"After a couple of days they realize it's nothing like that, says Capek, 26, who, as well as clocking hundreds of kilometres each week with his job, takes to the trails for some high-speed mountain bike "trashing" on weekends.
"You just wind up dirty at the end of the day."
The potential hazards scary drivers, "road rash" from occasional skin-on-asphalt spills, perilously high winter snow banks are nothing out of the ordinary for full-time bikers.
For most of their working year, these pneumatic roadrunners look more like warmly-dressed aliens than bearers of important packages and legal documents.
They get used to the elevator stares from the downtown business set, and their typical remark of amazement: "You ride a bike in this weather!"
Dedicated couriers will pump the pedals in any weather. And they'll deliver any kind of package, no questions asked.
Capek once ferried a cowboy outfit complete with boots and fringe jacket to a local deejay.
Last Christmas, office party-goers asked Ron Forest, Lawson's seasoned rider, to haul a case of 24 beers from the vendor in a snow-storm.
"I would have done it, but I didn't have the $30 on me," the 29-year-old says with a laugh.
A year ago Forest, a former furniture mover, traded the life of delivering "photocopiers from hell" for the hustle of the cycling courier.
A traffic accident his first day on the job landed him in hospital for a few stitches in his elbow, but he's never looked back.
"It was raining, my brakes didn't go and I needed six more inches to stop' Forest says.
"But you get used to the minor stuff
That includes dealing with regular tires and on-the-road repairs. Messengers all carry repair kits and have been known to help out a courier in need who works for a rival company.
But there's also a little friendly sabotage going on between them.
"The toughest part of the job? Having my levers shifted or toe straps tightened (by the other messengers)," says Don Kropla, ballroom dance instructor-turned-biker." Most of us do that kind of stuff, it's harmless fun."
Practised bike couriers say they can spot the rookies in a minute: they don't lock their bikes, and they look awful uncomfortable in dress pants and shirt
For the veterans, the uniform is nothing but biking shorts, colourful tee-shirts a pair of gloves and funky shades, and of course, a helmet.
"This is what I do," Forest says. "Do you want me to look good or work good
While messengers won't get rich dodging traffic in pursuit of a faster route across town, cycling couriers are paid commission and most say they earn between $250 and $400 a week.
Mind you, they've got to keep up the pace to bring in the bucks.
"You have to ride on the edge of being sick," Capek says, "because there's no time to get sick with this job."
As well, the biking business has other more tangible costs.
Capek has had two locked bikes stolen Kropla has lost one to thieves.
Forest has been lucky so far; he's only had one attempted robbery of his lock.
Even so, dedicated bikers say they wouldn't trade their daily routine for another job.
If you have comments or suggestions, email me at messvilleto@yahoo.com