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Being a bike messenger is no walk in the
park
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Richmond Times-Dispatch , August 21, 2006
By Aaron Kremer
Richmond's bike messengers ride in and out of traffic like it's their
job.
At 4 p.m. on Friday, dispatchers chirp addresses over two-way radios.
The riders heed the instructions, careening off curbs and weaving
through rush-hour traffic as they crisscross downtown. Stowed in their
bright rubber backpacks are X-rays, legal documents that need immediate
signatures or dockets destined for courthouses before the close of
business.
"It's the kind of job that ruins you for other work," says Justin Owen,
25. "You get to work outside and have nobody looking over your shoulder
. . . It beats sitting under fluorescent lights."
Owen earns $10 an hour riding deliveries for Richmond Express, one of
four companies in town that uses bike couriers.
Ralph L. Lincoln bought the company in 1990 and even pedaled documents
around Richmond for nine months. He changed the name from the bike-only
Richmond Riders to Richmond Express because customers kept asking if
the company did vehicular deliveries, which it does.
As little as 10 years ago, 20 bikes cruised the city, six of which were
from Richmond Express. Now the company has two bikers and 50 vehicles,
while the total number of bike messengers has dwindled to eight -- all
men. Sometimes there's not enough work for all eight. E-mail and fax
machines have made most original documents unnecessary. And an exodus
of businesses from some parts of downtown to the parking-rich suburbs
thinned clientele. "It used to be you had to be on Main Street to be
recognized in Richmond, but not anymore," Lincoln said.
Bikes are still important to the company, Lincoln said, by meeting cars
on the edge of downtown and taking packages to final destinations.
"As more businesspeople move back downtown, there may be more business
in the future. We [also] might start sending bikes out farther, to the
Fan," Lincoln said.
The area of operation stretches from Byrd Street to Jackson Street and
East 25th Street through the west 1500 block, but most couriers stick
to Virginia Commonwealth University Medical Center, Cary and East Main
streets.
Owen and his Richmond Express co-courier, Keith Dunlap, check in at big
clients such as law firm LeClair Ryan every half hour and respond as
calls come in. They juggle up to five deliveries at once and 20 on an
average day, deliberating the fastest route and best order to pick up
and drop off the payload.
Dunlap and Owen saddle up for work or courier races, but most of their
fellow tradesmen compete in formal bike racing on weekends. The courier
races are like scavenger hunts that test pedaling speed, navigation and
strategy.
The job isn't always a ride in the park, though that's where some
weekend races are. Every rider has a hit-by-a-car story.
Dunlap injured his knee on Dec. 23, 2004, when a pickup truck pulled in
front of him as he made a left. He refused an ambulance ride to save
the $500 and instead walked to Lasership, a courier company with
offices in the James Center, and then walked home.
Because Dunlap is an employee of Richmond Express instead of a private
contractor like at the three other companies, he is required to wear a
helmet. The other couriers poke fun at him.
In mid-2002 Shawn Tunstall started Downtown Express, and now the
company uses two riders and three drivers. Tunstall cracked the helmet
he was wearing when he was struck by a car and landed on his head. But
he doesn't wear one now.
"It takes away from the lawlessness of it all," he said.
And most of their tricks -- riding on sidewalks, cruising the wrong way
in traffic and running red lights (after a careful look both ways) --
is illegal. That's what gives them a competitive edge over their
motorized counterparts. Sometimes police issue tickets, but most of the
time they seem to have bigger fish to fry, the couriers say.
Talk to them about police and they have no qualms. Ask them about whom
they detest and they first mention the feuds between bikers and taxi
drivers that are the stuff of legend in New York and Washington, (a
paucity of cabs in Richmond rules out a rivalry.) After getting warmed
up, they say their biggest adversaries are the public GRTC buses.
Bike messengers may seem totally defenseless riding on two skinny
tires, but they can be wily. A metal U-lock, when properly yanked from
a rear pocket and deftly wielded, can de-mirror a car in a heartbeat,
they say. Rumors circulate of one courier brandishing the weapon at a
menacing driver during an altercation.
Mostly, though, avoiding a scrape with asphalt requires defensive
riding. Stu Louder, 21, has been delivering for Bizport for about a
year. He said he can detect a driver in a rush from the sounds of the
engine.
"You pretend like nobody can see you," he advised.
Joey Jones, 25, leapfrogs around cars that intend to stop short before
turning. When a car accelerates and swerves around him, he pedals
harder and passes it to regain his position in front.
And all admit they hit the brakes when drivers ride their rear wheel.
Vehicles aren't the only occupational hazard. Dunlap paraphrases the
postal service's plucky slogan: "No weather stops the bike couriers."
He takes more caution when riding in snow and rain and even had to
plunge a foot in the water each time he pedaled through the floodwaters
in Shockoe Bottom.
Working outside is the biggest perk, Dunlap said, but entering an
air-conditioned building on a rainy day is cold irony because he's
indoors but still freezing.
The key, he said, is dry socks.
"The first few weeks your bones ache from the cold. And your hands,
too, but you get used to it and then it's not so bad."
The same goes for the heat, he said, "but over a 100 degrees can be
harsh." He keeps everything he might need in a waterproof pack: spare
tube, pump, water, snack, and deodorant -- "You got to respect the
office worker, especially in the elevator."
Dunlap worked for Courier One (Bizport's predecessor) and Lasership
before joining Richmond Express.
"One biker will bounce from one company to another. It's a small
community," said Bizport dispatcher Jason Britt. The couriers fill in
for one another and swap shifts.
When work slows, they congregate outside the SunTrust Bank building at
919 E. Main St., sometimes running food for street vendors in exchange
for lunch.
After 5 p.m., headquarters moves to a Shockoe Slip watering hole.
"Right now I'm in my office," Tunstall said, sipping a beer at Richbrau
with three other riders lined up at the bar.
"I'm open until 6."
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