We stand on cold Ninth street outside Via Bicycle, in front of a couple dozen bikes, all lined up like kids waiting to be picked for a team. Owner Curtis, decked in his plaid fedora and ringleader mustache, eyes up my boyfriend, mentally measuring height and weight.

He picks out a blue Schwinn road bike and begins describing its intricacies, what makes it a “beautiful machine”: the light weight frame is perfect for city riding, the seat’s connecting piece is welded on instead of being a separate piece, the tire spokes are all original.
 
My boyfriend and I listen quietly—a little too quietly for Curtis. “Do you give a shit about all this?” he looks up and asks from a crouched position next to the bike’s front tire. We nod eagerly. And we do care. The way this man details each bicycle’s mechanics is like the way a chef describes a pastry or how an artist would relay a painting.  It is quite clear that bicycles are more than just a past time, hobby or even meal ticket for Curtis—they are a lifestyle.

Perhaps, the lifestyle began almost 27 years ago when Curtis set up shop on Ninth street, right off South, with four floors of bicycle Mecca. However, before the trademark ‘stache, Curtis was a kid growing up in rural upstate New York, pulling rusty bikes from trash heaps and breathing new life into them. It explains the scars on this hands and the way his thick fingers nimbly repair the tiny parts of a bike tire as we talk.

Walking through the doors, it’s easy to be taken aback—bicycles in every imaginable color, size and style are displayed from floor to ceiling and parts fill every empty nook. Every bike in shop has had a prior life, some were bought at flea markets while other were sold to the shop by customers, and rehabbed by one of Curtis’s six full-time bike guys or by Curtis himself. Thus, each bike is a one-of-a-kind creation, pieced together by the best parts with tender-loving-care. And that’s just the first floor.

Via Bicycle extends up for three more floors, housing vintage bicycles, Curtis’s office, a jumbled heap of waiting parts and, on the fourth floor, Curtis’s wife and three-year-old son. “Most people would see the other three floors as total mayhem, so we don’t let customers up there,” Curtis laughs.

Despite, the apparent mayhem, Via turns out great bikes—and people have noticed, flocking to the shop for trade-ins, repairs, and, like us, for new bikes. Once your bike has been paid for, there are still reasons to come back in. All Via bikes are given a free safety check-up at anytime and, often, small repairs are done free of charge. Students are encouraged to buy a bike even if they’ll be in town for a year or so; Via will gladly buy it back.

And while business has slowed down for winter (“Can’t you hear the crickets?” Curtis says with a cupped hand to his ear) a handful of people wander in along with their bikes for repair and eyes wide with purchase anticipation. But Curtis isn’t worried—after 27 winters on  Ninth Street, he understands the ebbs and flows of Philadelphia business and bike culture. “With every Septa strike, we see people coming in with bikes covered in dryer lint looking to fix them up. More professionals are riding to work than ever before. And now, with the gas prices this year, people are looking for new options,” Curtis explains.

These changes have meant steady business for Curtis and his crew, new bikes to rehab and new clientele to service. As he pulls a green road bike from the bunch, he explains, “For every well-made bike, there are six that I am still working on and figuring out. I’ve been doing this for thirty-something years and I’m still learning new things.”

My boyfriend has the hand-built blue Schwinn to prove it.  

Via Bicycle, 606 S. 9th St., Philadelphia, 215.627.3370