Jeff Underwood, Owner of Continuum Cycles

Summer may not start until June 21st, but with all the warm weather we've been enjoying you may have noticed an increase in the number of cyclists on the streets—that is, unless you're too busy speeding past cars and dodging pedestrians on your own set of wheels. Clearly, this is going to be another big summer for biking, with the city already predicting a large increase in riders. Jeff Underwood has been part of the biking scene in this city before most of us knew there was a scene. Tucked away in the East Village, Continuum Cycles is packed with bikes both new and old: bikes, frames, and various other parts can be found hanging from the walls, leaning against each other on the floor, even spilling out into the street.

The shop focuses mainly on building up custom bikes, using either shiny new frames (including their own brand, Continuum), or one of their hard-found vintage frames. Recently, Jeff told us about his amazing journey from homelessness to owning his own store. We also spoke to him about what he loves and hates about biking in New York City. Whether you're ready to start cycling in the city, or just need tune-up on your current ride, Continuum Cycles is there for you on Avenue B between 12th and 13th street.

How did you get into bikes? I moved to New York in 2000, started walking, taking the subways, and I thought it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. I was getting blisters on my feet. So I got a bike, which was silly because I got a 1969 Sting-Ray Schwinn. About six months later I got a road bike, which I converted to a fixed gear. I quit my job—I was working in social work—and started doing messenger work. I thought it was the New York experience, somehow.

And you were homeless for a while. Yeah. I was doing homeless outreach as a coordinator in the Bronx, working with people who were HIV positive, and after the World Trade Center and all that I had a weird break down, started using drugs again, ended up leaving my job. When I became a messenger I was homeless. I was living by the river, had a shanty in Williamsburg for about a year, and when I started working more in the city I started living by the river over here. When it got really cold I would stay on the train or go to a shelter. I didn't really know anybody. The people I did know were in situations where they couldn't have people over or they were homeless themselves.

Then I started getting myself back together. People knew me in the harm reduction world, so I started working at another agency where Amanda, my girlfriend and manager of Continuum, was working as a part-time outreach worker, and she was my boss. It's sort of funny because we had both been going for the same job and I didn't know who she was, and she came in and got the job that I wanted. I was so bitter about it, because I thought they did it because I was homeless and they were judging me, and she went to Columbia and of course they're going to hire her bla bla bla... I was really mad, and when I met her the first thing I said to her was, "Oh, you're the girl who took my job," and she thought I was an asshole. A week into it we really started to get along, and now we've been together for seven years.

That's awesome. Yeah, it's cool. And what's funny is no one expected me to come back after all that. And I did the whole time; I knew I would. But everyone else was just like, "Oh, he's just a con artist, and he's trying to take advantage of this girl..." or whatever. And it wasn't that at all.

So how did that lead to you opening your own bike shop? Well, soon I realized that in New York most people don't know how to do work on their own bikes, cars, anything. In the South, my father always told me, "Learn how to do everything. If your refrigerator breaks down, figure out what's wrong with it. Or your washing machine, or your car..." So, I was noticing that some messengers didn't even know how to change flats or tension chains and things. So I started carrying tools around and giving people my cell phone number. I started to see bikes that were broken down or needed work that were locked up in the East Village and I would leave a piece of paper with my phone number on it telling them that I would do discount work on their bikes.

I was also leaving numbers on bikes I wanted to buy. So I started buying bikes and fixing them up and taking them to the flea market and selling them. At that time I was buying parts from bike shops at retail, and just making money from labor. I started working out of a basement on Avenue A and 10th Street, at a thrift store. I worked at two or three other bike shops in the city, and they would cut a deal with me where I could do my own thing as well. At the last shop I worked, the partner, James, asked me if I wanted to open a shop because he was leaving. He came to me and said, "How about if we do a messenger service/bike shop. The messenger service will pay the rent in the winter, and your bike shop will pay the rent in the summer." So we came over here, we opened Continuum, and he never got the messenger service up. We were so busy with the bike shop, that I guess he just thought, "Oh, this is fine. We don't need to do anything else." So we just went with my shop.

We're actually splitting up. I'm going to buy out the whole thing.

That's exciting! Yeah, it's going to be a lot better. Definitely, he helped me a lot, and I wouldn't be here without him, but it's time. He has too many other things going on anyway; he has like three businesses.

How long has Continuum been open? The shop opened two years ago, but I've been building my little empire since five or six years ago. I'd actually do two or three build-ups a week, which would bring in about $1000-$1500. Plus the sales on the weekend at the flea market were about two-grand, and I had no overhead except for the parts I bought. So I was actually making more money then, than I am now. Much more. It's funny, sometimes I think, "God, I wish I was still doing that." But there are problems with that.

Tell us about the Continuum frame. Once I opened this shop, I decided I was going to sit down, draw out and do my own frame. Doing a steel lug frame would be very expensive for me and for customers, and I wanted to do a mid-range frame that people could ride. I wanted to make an aluminum frame that didn't ride as stiff as aluminum. So I did a lot of research and sketching and calling people and talking to people and reading all this stuff about ways of making bikes less stiff and more stiff. The first Continuum wasn't right—I still have it—so I went back to the drawing board and started drawing. I knew there was a pad that you could actually download on your computer with a program that would make this a lot easier, and I could probably do this in a week, while it was taking me months with a pencil and a ruler. But I actually like it better that way.

So I designed the second one. I rode it, a bunch of friends and the guys on the team rode it, and I started getting feedback from them. They really liked it. No one was giving me any bad feedback, and I really felt like no one was being honest. So I told my friends, "Please, be honest with me." And they said, "You know, I really don't have any problems with it, but maybe this, and maybe that..." I'm like, "Ok, thank you!" So I shortened the top tube, raised the bottom bracket, changed some angles, and that's where the 2009 frame is. There's nothing about them that needs to be changed, for me, so far. I'm biased of course, but it's amazing how many people who were strictly steel lug vintage track bike riders, who are now riding aluminum frames, who hate aluminum.

What drew you to fixed gear bikes? At first, honestly, it was because they were different from everybody else. Like everything else I've done in my life, even as a kid, it was just different. I didn't want to ride what they were riding. I didn't know anything about it. The first fixed gear I had was on a BMX and I didn't even know what track bikes or velodromes were. Then I was riding in the city and I saw this old Puerto Rican messenger guy flying past me one day and he was so smooth through the traffic, and he was skidding, and barely missing a car, and cutting through, with drop bars... and it just looked really cool to me and interesting. So I made a conversion, and I fell and I hit people and cars. I didn't have a brake on there....

And now you wont sell bikes to people without brakes? No. First time fixed gear riders must have a brake, must have clips and straps, and must go outside with me and let me show them how to ride a fixed gear.

Photo by Fred Askew

What do you think of the bicycle resurgence in this city? I think it's awesome. I don't care why they're doing it, I'm just glad that they're riding. Of course I'm going to say that, because I'm making money from it, but I also think it's really awesome to see people riding bikes, and really getting into it, and knowing about bikes and knowing what chain stays are and seat stays and seat tubes and angles and just different things. I think it's really cool that people are into it.

The DOT has done a great job adding in new bike lanes and signs, but there's been a lot of controversy about some of the lanes and interactions with the police. How do you think the city is doing? I think they're trying. They don't know what they're doing. I think bike lanes are probably the most dangerous place to be as a cyclist. It's terrible. Most wrecks I've been in, I've been in a bike lane.

It's a false sense of security. Yes. Doors open, cabs run you off into a parked car, delivery guys ride the wrong way because they're only working a small area: why would they go on a one-way street three blocks over to go two blocks? I understand why they're going the wrong way, and they also don't have money for lights—most restaurants don't supply them with lights or helmets—so there are a lot of accidents with the delivery guys. And that's why the bike lanes are weird: because there are people going the wrong way on them, people walking on them with their coffee and donut and then yelling at you. But it's New York City, so.... I like to ride in the middle of the street. Because you know what? I'm safe there; they can see me. The cars, they see you. If you're on the side, hiding, they're not going to see you and you're going to get hurt.

So do you see the city handling cyclists better? Oh yeah, of course, until the fad's over.

You think it's a fad? Of course. Everyone's green, for now, and we just have to enjoy it while it's here.

There was a recent article and slideshow in the New York Times about bicycle fashion. What do you think of the bike as a fashion symbol? Riding a track bike and wearing a $3000 silk Italian suit is stupid. And having one in an ad is stupid. A Dutch bike with an encased drive chain? Yeah, sure, but New York City? No, because it's so disgusting. Put your suit in your bag and get dressed at work, or leave your suit at work. I just don't see fashion and bikes.... As you see, we don't sell many clothes here. I've had people come in and say, "I've been to so many bike shops and boutiques and you're the last one I've been to today, and you know why I'm still here? Because you have more bikes than t-shirts and hats." I don't want to sell t-shirts and hats. It's a bike shop.

What would you change about the biking environment in New York? City People who do the same thing as everyone else while knocking and looking down upon them, because they're not doing it as cool. Like saying, "Oh, he's riding a Langster track bike that's straight out of the store." And as I say, and I got this from a friend of mine, "There's a bike for everyone." And I believe that. I don't look down on anyone for any kind of bike they ride. And the scene in New York, especially the bike scene, that is all day, every day, and I don't know what it is. It's like Junior High. And most bike shops are pretentious like that, too.

The other day I was at another shop and the guy asked me what kind of bike I rode. When I told him I rode a fixed gear, he literally smirked at me and asked, "Where do you live?" I replied, "Not in Williamsburg." That's why I opened a shop, because I was tired of getting treated like shit in a shop. Because they think they know more than the person who walks in the door. They may, but why make them feel bad about it? So many people go into shops and they leave and they feel weird and wonder, "What's this feeling?" It's from Junior High, from wearing the wrong thing or saying the wrong thing. It's really bizarre. It's a New York thing I think.

If you could change one thing about New York City what would it be? Everybody rushing to get nowhere fast. You move here and suddenly everyone needs to get somewhere fast. But what's funny is part of that I like, too. It's just when it interferes with me getting somewhere fast. (Laughs) Everyone's getting in each other's way.

Are there any circumstances under which you would leave New York? Of course!... I don't know... Umm...

You have no idea. So I guess you wont! Uh... Yeah... I get bored easily. This is the longest I've done something really. I guess this is the Continuum of it. I'm not sure what's going to happen.