That was two years ago. He was 13, a good kid — capable, by all accounts, but a bit lost. Then he put on a bike mechanic’s apron for the first time, and something clicked.
Certainly, the fact that he could work 25 hours to earn a free bike was enticing.
That’s why most kids come to the after-school program at this shop in the city’s Woodlawn neighborhood. For these boys and girls, a bike represents freedom, a way to fly more quickly through the gang-ridden streets that surround the shop.
They feel the wind on their faces, and can be alone with their thoughts. Many ride to places they don’t often go –- to the lakeshore or a museum or to the Lincoln Park Zoo, 10 miles to the north.
Grinning broadly, sixth-grader Kaniya Coleman says, “When I ride I feel like a super woman.’’ She recalls a trip to the beach this summer when she and others wore capes while they rode in a pack, whooping and hollering all the way. “It was awesome.’’
For Reggie, there also is comfort, and freedom, in just being here in this place for a few hours - in working with his hands, in building something, in belonging.
“It feels like home. When you walk in, people greet you, say hello. People listen,’’ says the 15-year-old high school freshman.
He feels safe here.
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Once he chooses a bike for its frame, the process begins.
He strips it down, takes off the wheels and all rusted parts that have to be replaced. Then the rebuilding begins.
Reggie, who has worked his way up to the position of bike apprentice, wears a black apron that represents that status. The fledgling mechanics around him start with green aprons and work up to red and purple as they master the basics.
Aaron Swanton, an adult mechanic and the youth program manager at Blackstone, remembers when Reggie was one of those beginners. He didn’t smile much, but had an intensity and steady work ethic.
“It’s different for every kid. But sometimes it just fits right away — and for Reggie, that’s how it’s been,’’ Swanton says.
