Lorenzo y el uno cambio

I am enamored with people’s passion for bicycles. Whether it’s utilitarian, egotistical, self serving, serving others or anywhere in between. So, as I was strolling down the cobbles to the surf this past Saturday in Sayulita, Nayarit Mexico, and saw Lorenzo slaving away on his Bridgestone in a home made workstand, I was forced to stop, practice my ailing Spanish and understand what the dude in the one room concrete block house was doing working on bikes in the mid-day heat.

Sayulita is a fishing village of about 800 folks, 35 minutes north of Puerto Vallarta – home of the sun-burned over weight tourist – gateway to some great waves and a gorgeous coast. My business partner owns a home in Sayulita and we are lucky in that he loves to share it, and loves to surf. We sneak down there as often as possible for quick 3 –4 day sojourns to surf places like Chacala, Burros and Anclote, drink beer, eat chips and salsa at El Costeno and bathe in the lack of phones, clients, demands and stress. There is one phone in Sayulita, in the ice cream shop. You write the number you want to call and hand it over the counter. Elena dials the number, starts her stopwatch and charges you a buck a minute to chat with the folks back home. They don’t take incoming calls at the Gelateria for gringos, so if someone wants you – they simply wait until you get home. That space – is a beautiful thing – and something I constantly underestimate the value of while trying to return emails on my cell phone while connecting to flight something or other to go meet with someone somewhere.

The deck on my partner’s house overlooks the bay in Sayulita. Even in pre-dawn light you can look down on the surf break and see lines of surf coming in from the west. We frequently surf until dark, go to bed at the ripe old hour of 8 (there is no tv, no phone, only books and outdated issues of People and InStyle magazines) and wake up close to 5 to be in the water for almost an hour before the sun breaks the hills to the south of town and turns the hills north of town into glowing wonders. I sleep outside when I am there – under mosquito netting. There is a huge Banyon tree that overhangs the deck. I often wake up in the wee hours and stare through the massive branches of the tree into the sky – drinking in the ability to sleep outside in the middle of our Colorado Winter. At dawn, I slip out of bed, no need to change since I slept in the trunks I went to bed in. Grab a board, stumble the two-minute walk down the path, through town-square where it seems the whole town is already awake, and paddle out into the 74 degree water. There are worse things than rubbing the sleep out of your eyes while you are paddling out into a deserted, sweet little right-hander.

So, back to Lorenzo. I was heading down for the mid – mid - afternoon session (there is dawn patrol; Post breakfast; mid – mid afternoon; Siesta and evening glass off sessions in a strong surfing day in Sayulita) and there was Lorenzo in front of his cinderblock home, working on some ancient mountain bike that would certainly be delegated to even the most spendthrifty cyclists’ garbage dump in the states. His workstand was an old rigid fork sunk into cement on the porch – upended so he can work on bikes out front. I stopped to ask what he was working on and we got into it about the team he sponsors. He explained that most of the kids play soccer, and surf, and that he thought there should be alternatives.

Being a cyclist, and with outstanding trails all over the place, he brought together a youth mountain bike team, and turned his porch into a bicycle rental business. The kids race the bikes on the weekends, and he rents the bikes when they aren’t being used to pay for expenses for the team, entry fees, parts, etc.

The bikes are in pretty sorry shape, but they work. I didn’t see any suspension, nothing more modern than 8 speeds, and some bikes that I hadn’t seen for a very long time in the states (I saw a fisher Hoo-Koo-E-Koo – I think I had that bike in 1985). As we talked he began pulling spokes off of a cratered wheel to build a new one for one of his team members, his truing stand set aside while he laced. He looked like any other bike enthusiast, anywhere in the world, enjoying tinkering and messing with parts and maintaining the bikes that brought he and his team so much joy. He wasn’t in the newest fashions, he wasn’t using the latest gear, he was improvising on many tools and techniques, but it was a parallel universe to the Saturday afternoon bike maintenance that usually happens outside our house.

I explained that I ride a one speed most of the time, he wanted to know what ratio I was running, how it was in the hills, if it was mountainous where I lived. It was really a time out of place, I imagined what Lorenzo would think if I took him out to our bike work room – 8 or 9 bikes – Park workstand, full complement of tools, probably 15 or so extra wheels hanging from the ceiling, speakers and good old American rock and roll playing. I thought of all the hubs, and pedals and seats and seat posts that I have laying around, and I thought they might be better used descending some Mexican mountain singletrack, giving some junior racer the chance to wail through their thick, steamy, humid jungle the way we rip through our beloved Rocky Mountains.

When I was leaving Saturday night to come stateside, Lorenzo came out and gave me some SPD’s with a fully cracked axle and asked if there was somewhere that I could find parts for them in the states – I guess he doesn’t get the Excel catalogue on a regular basis. I took the pedals, and envisioned returning in three weeks with as many spare parts as I can get through customs, and a few beers, and maybe spending a Saturday afternoon working on bikes on Lorenzo’s front porch, talking about bikes.

I am returning to Sayulita on April 4th, and will be taking a care package for Lorenzo and his team. Any donations are greatly appreciated and will be compensated with Karma, and beer (the latter at the Author’s expense, cashing in the former is up to you). Any old chains, bearings, axles, gloves, helmets, spokes, seats, any parts that you have laying around would be greatly appreciated. They can be dropped off at radar communications – 1300 Walnut, ste 20 (basement); Boulder, Co. c/o Dave Kingsbury.