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Gritty Outlaw Bike Race Mellows
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Bremerton Sun, August 12, 2005
By Anne Kim, (Associated Press)
SEATTLE
Suddenly, unsuspecting commuters found themselves surrounded by a swarm
of screaming bicyclists who plunged down a hill with a grand disregard
for personal safety.
Welcome to the Dead Baby Bike Downhill, a celebration of bicycle
subculture founded by a small group of bike messengers, bartenders and
bouncers, where bicyclists race and show off a quirky variety of bikes
- some made double-tall by welding two frames atop each other.
This is not your average spandex-wearing bicycle race.
Helmets are optional. Injuries are expected. Booze is all but
mandatory. Its legal status is questionable. And the pinata at the
post-race party is shaped like a police cruiser.
The Dead Babies' motto: "We want to be free, free to ride our machines
without being harassed by the man," recites David "DJ" Johnson, one of
the club's original members. "And we want to get loaded."
Members of bicycle clubs from Portland, San Francisco, and New York,
among others came to Friday's race, said Dave Ranstrom, the club's
founder.
Despite wearing her "colors" - a patch on a suede vest with a gory
illustration of a baby skewered through its neck and stomach - Brandy
Wiggins said she was nervous before the race started.
But the nerves didn't stop her from pummeling down a hill with about
150 people at a speed so fast that her bike maxed out - her gears
wouldn't go any higher and her pedals just spun, she said.
"If you crash at that speed... you know it's going to hurt really bad,"
Wiggins said.
But this year's race, held earlier this month, didn't feature the
concussions and broken bones of past versions.
And it's become more organized since the first race nine years ago.
Back then, racers crossed paths with the annual family Seafair parade,
Ranstrom said.
But instead of stopping, they just grabbed their bikes and walked
through the marching bands and the rest of the parade, bringing about
20 police officers to Ranstrom's back door.
The thought that was going through Ranstrom's head: "I am so going to
jail for this."
The annual race is the culminating yearly event for the Dead Baby Bike
Club, a group of bike enthusiasts with about 40 full members.
They're a mix of blue collar workers such as machinists and bike
messengers and some professionals such as legal assistants. Each month,
they pub crawl, taking over the streets on their bikes, Wiggins said.
Chalo Colina, with an explosion of black curls on his head and his
upper teeth scalloped with gold, has been in the club for four years.
"I consider us a drinking club with a bicycle problem," Colina said.
As for the name, Ranstrom said it was inspired by a doll nailed through
the head above the door by the previous occupants of the bike shop he
owned.
"We just thought it was hilarious," he said.
But for Jeremy Blake, a longtime member, Dead Baby is more than just an
attention-getter.
"Dead Babies and the name represents the discarded few. The lost
children, so to speak," said Blake, a former bicycle messenger. "The
Dead Babies were my family."
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