Saturday Morning at the Bike Co-op

There's a bike co-op in the old warehouse district where anyone can come and fix their bike for free, with tools and help from volunteers. I started going because I couldn't afford a bike shop. I kept going because it's one of my favorite places in the city.

It smells like grease and coffee. There's a boom box playing old punk records. A retired engineer named Hal teaches people to true wheels with the patience of a saint. A teenage girl named Destiny knows more about brakes than anyone I've ever met.

I've learned to change a tire, adjust gears and replace a chain. Last month I helped a nervous college student fix her first flat. When it was done, she rode around the parking lot whooping.

I don't know if it's the bikes or the people. Probably both. It's the most useful, happy place I know.