Day 12: Alameda–Rivendell, David, and Welcome to the Tenderloin!
I went and visited Rivendell Bicycle Works. It’s in Walnut Creek, a busy suburb in a valley over the hill from the Bay, with beautiful rolling hills surrounding it within easy bike-ride escape distance.
Rivendell is America’s only high-quality handmade production bike company. It also offers a wide variety of original, vintage and hard to find accessories that any bikey would love. All their stuff has a “we care” vibe to it and a design value that clearly states: “This is going to last for decades and look and work great the whole time in a classy but not fancy way.” Riv believes that simple is better and tries to keep simple alive in a bike world which is in the grip of pricey toss-it-don’t-fix-it stuff. Riv can be pricey, too, but what can ya do if you’re paying real people to make things for you. Of course, pricey bike stuff is actually cheap because it lasts for decades.
Grant Petersen was the manager of Bridgestone US before he started Riv, which went under when the yen got too strong. He was speccing unfashionably simple, classy and reliable bikes in the mid-80’s. A cult formed around the worldview called the B*O*Bs, Bridgestone Owners Bunch. Grant put out a nifty mag and catalog for them. These are already collector’s items. Then Bridge died and he started Riv. And the Rivendell Reader. I’ve been following what he’s been up to since he started being up to things in bikeland. I’ve been shopping his way as I’ve been able. I have a Bridge MB1 race mt-bike. My national-class racer housemate rode Bridge RB1s to many wins for awhile. I’d never really seen a Riv in real life until last night. I’d read about the shop, the spartan conditions. Time to check it out. The guys said they’d be there.
Riv is in a metal shed in a row of sheds in an industrial park hidden behind other buildings downtown. Riv people are friendly folks and there were gorgeous Riv bikes leaning here and there all around. It was breath-taking. It’s been decades since I’ve seen so much art and care in a roomful of bikes. Down the way was some kind of custom hotrod shop. A paint shop. The usual. The neighbors were friendly, too. Grant was talking with a customer, a big fancy guy, like an ex pro football player. Riv is offering the only classy production bike for big guys, the Redwood. It fit this guy to a tee. They were doing some very pleasant business it seemed, but earnestly. In the meantime I looked at things. There were cool bike things everywhere. A pile of lug castings at various stages on top of a file cabinet on top of a pile of raw ore. Cool. A workbench front and center. I remembered my need for a cog. I showed them my road-dirty insect-be-gutted bike and apologized for it. They said it looked great and reminisced about it. I got to meet the legendary cross racer and male model, Pineapple Bob. He said he started on a bike like mine. Mark said they had a cog that would work for me but they’d have to file it, and he offered to do so. It ended up being more work than first thought but not too much and a fine fix with no extra charge. I looked forward to some hills! Then Grant was free and we said Hi. With his bright green eyes and sizable eyeteeth, he has a penetrating mien. He’s a pro with a romantic tendency. He’s shy and keeps the focus off of himself and on the bikes, but there is a rumpled stylish vibe of his that seems to get shared and spread around his work. What he’s doing is an inspiration, you gotta know it. And his team is with him all the way.
He set up a couple bikes for me to try. Two bikes were loaded and leaning against the bench. Grant and John were heading out after work for an overnighter. They had classy-yet-casual prototype canvas luggage bags on some very shapely-yet-rugged racks. I tried Grant’s bike, too. He measured me for his own style of seat and bar adjustment. It was a very interesting ride, with bars higher than seat. The bars were also a Riv innovation and felt real nice and versatile. Actually there were 3 different Riv bars in view. Lovely to see, with so many innovative useful cuves. I rode up the steep hill near the shop just fine. I wasn’t convinced though. What about speed and sport? What about em, said Grant and John, laughing. Grant gave in and lowered my bars a bit. They still seemed fine. When I rolled by, John said “Seem a little low.” The pack flaps were held down by a stick. A good, whittled stick, the guys said. Nothing to get lost or broken. Fully adjustable. I’d never seen a high-end product with a stick on it before, but darn it suited me to a tee. I put sticks on my own stuff all the time. Why not design a stick into something way nice? Their setups also didn’t have toeclips, just plain old platform pedals: lets you move your foot around, Grant said. Nice, simple. I think they’re on to something. Go, Riv, go!
I still think a fully integrated bike with matching fenders, lights, chainguard, rack, saddlebag, pump and tools might really do it. But they’re already doing it where no one else dares to tread. Do you know how rare that is? Onward, dear Rivulons!
An organic juice icecream truck came jingling down the alley and Pineapple bought me a Popsicle. Thanks! It was VERY hot. In fact, so hot that I think minds were melting yet the gang took time to show me things and have a sweaty chat. The casually loaded lovely bikes were calling the Friday guys strongly.
Later that night the saintly Rosemary offered to watch all the kids while we went out on the town for a date (RTR was out). We planned to go to Chez Pannise, the worldfamous first California cuisine restaurant. As we drove over we realized we hadn’t seen Downtown David yet. The very provocation for the trip! We’d been so swept up, but now we had a chance and even though we’d see him soon, we leaped into action. David, are you there? Are you ready? Let’s party! We did a screeching left-turn from shady groves to the seedy Tenderloin. It was great to see him finally. He’s visited us a lot. A family friend from the Ann Arbor days. It was time to inflict the Family Unit on him for a change! Well, we’ll start with just us old farts, no kids. (How rare is it anyway that family vacationers get to go out without the kids? Yeehaw!) So we met up and hit the streets and the wild, crazy international restaurants, picking a brash, loud Vietnamese place. Cheap, crowded and great. Welcome to the City! Then we hit the bars. We end up in one that is very confusing and very urban. Three hot Asian chicks man the bar. They introduce themselves by name and we shake hands. Then a tall young guy sidles up behind us and starts being hilariously obnoxious and buys us drinks. The ones we’d ordered taste like water. He orders us all Jack Daniels on the rocks–smart–the barmaids scowl. He’s pushy. The girls know him. Why is he buying drinks. What is going on here. It’s some kind of strange procurement, we guess. A midget came in and suddenly bought Martha a drink. This is getting weird. After we leave David said “That’s the weirdest bar I’ve ever been in, and you know me. I think it was a traditional Korean bar-girl bar where they sell socializing and not sex per se.” However we did notice a redlighted stairway heading up to some doors along a balcony. But no one ever went up while we were there.
