It had been a long time since Lima residents Brian Behl and Bethany Lykins hopped on bikes. But, outside a church in the small northwest Ohio city, they cautiously steered a set of handlebars toward a bike path.
Helmets on, the couple tore down the trail without a wobble for a test drive. When they returned, Tammie Joseph was waiting for them with questions.
“How did it work out? You don't think your seat needs to be raised at all? You like it where it is? What about you?” she asked Behl and Lykins.
Joseph isn’t a bike salesperson or a cycling instructor. She’s a volunteer for The Wheelhouse, a nonprofit that pairs adults in need of transportation with bikes to get them where they need to go.
Taking the bus or the streetcar to work is a luxury often limited to larger cities. Ohio’s rural areas and small cities have fewer or no options; 25 Ohio counties have no public transit system at all.
The Wheelhouse Christian Bicycle Cooperative hopes a different set of wheels can fill the gap.
“There are a number of food banks and a number of food services through churches. This is just a different need that's being met: the need for transportation,” said Wheelhouse founder Ginny Cress.
Transportation challenges
Wheelhouse clients Behl and Lykins said they want to work. But there are few jobs within walking distance from their tent encampment.
“We can only walk [so] far,” Behl said. “We're hoping to get further so we can get a job somewhere.”
That’s the case for the majority of people who step through the nonprofit’s doors, Cress said. Many times, buses either don’t line up with clients’ shifts or make a stop near their homes. Some Lima residents have to take taxis to work.
“When you're making minimum wage, that's a big amount of your salary to pay for that taxi,” she said. “Bike, you can do it free.”
Ginny Cress and her husband Larry Cress founded the Wheelhouse a decade ago.
They didn’t have enough money to buy people cars, enough time to taxi them to work or enough power to extend bus routes. But, Larry Cress said they figured they might be able to use YouTube tutorials to refurbish some old bikes.
“We expected to do 50 to 75,” he said. “We ended up doing 150 bikes the first year.”
Local social service agencies started referring residents in need of transportation. The Lima Police Department started gifting unclaimed bikes from their impound. And the rest of the community started pitching in their old gear.
“We've become the place to empty your shed,” Larry Cress said.
A decade of donations
Ten years of donations later, the nonprofit is on bike number 1,797. Each is repaired by a small team of volunteers, like Wheelhouse manager Heinz.
Before the Wheelhouse, Heinz had only ever made small adjustments to his own road bikes. Now, his grease-smeared gloves can move confidently across any set of gears.
“You have to check the brakes, make sure the wheels are not loose, the cranks are not loose,” Heinz said as he did a final inspection on a refurbished bike.
Heinz said he often sees the bikes he’s repaired parked outside the local grocery store or chugging along the main road.
“It feels great. I'm always checking, ‘Does that tire …need air?’” he said. “I’m always wanting to help them.”
Past clients can come in any time and receive maintenance on their bikes.
When Clemons Miller stopped in to get his tires checked, he explained he’s put a lot of miles on his bike in just a year.
“I call this my Subaru,” Miller said, laughing and gesturing at his bike.
Miller wasn’t able to afford an actual Subaru after being released from incarceration. But he said his two-wheeler gets him to his two jobs just as well. He said it also comes with an added benefit.
“I used to have high blood pressure… I still have it, but I don't take the pills because this is my workout every single day. I ride about five miles a day. Every day,” he said.
After incarceration, Miller wanted to head down a new path. He found one, and, with pedals under his feet, he’s moving forward faster than he imagined.
