Ashley King started Significant Other Bikes after learning the trade at another local framebuilding shop in Colorado. Now, she focuses her creative energy on unexpected bikes and designs. Flat-bar fixies, one-piece titanium bar/stems, and more.
We visited her workshop to see her in her element and put Ripton's new Navy Sport Utility Pant to the test.
In her own words, here is the story of how Significant Other Bikes came to life:
Sometime between the end of high school and my life taking a more defined shape, my best friend's boyfriend picked up riding fixies and wouldn't shut up about it. We were from New York city, and none of us had ridden bikes much before. Instead, we rode the train, which was more convenient and comfortable. Plus your chances of getting hit by a car or a bus were 0. After a year or two of riding, he managed to finally convince me to try it. I was 19, skeptical, and in flip flops, but from that first pedal forward, I understood.
I understood his incomprehensible enamoration of this two-wheeled machine completely. There was an immediate and tangible connectedness with my trajectory through the world, and in that instant, that was it. I had found the love of my life (BIKES, not my best friend's boyfriend). That summer, I bought a fixed gear conversion off Craigslist for 100 bucks as a birthday gift to myself. I was no longer Ashley, but Ashley and her Bike. I commuted all over the city on that one bike for a decade. At some point in the back half of those 10 years, I crossed paths with someone who asked me if I raced track. In response to my blank stare, they nodded at my bike. "Track cyclists race fixed gear bikes; track bikes." "Track bikes?" He briefly explained track racing and velodromes and mentioned that there was a velodrome in Queens. After 7 years of using bikes solely for navigation, this was a big bang moment.
I joined an amateur track team that spring and met other people who shared and understood my type of love for fixies. After two seasons of racing, a teammate asked if I had ever thought of bike messenger work. I had been feeling stuck at my job -- a non-profit I had been with for a few years. We'd worked with public schools throughout the 5 boroughs and I'd ride my bike to our job sites to build out classrooms, or work with and train teachers. Sometimes I'd have the opportunity to hang out with and teach the students. Some days I'd be riding with a backpack full of tools or supplies. Sometimes a bag full of books. Rain, snow, humid AF; it didn't matter. At some point during my time working there, something shifted and the riding became the only part of the day I enjoyed.
I was sharing this sentiment with my teammate and friend. "So, have you ever thought of messenger work?" they asked. I kind of laughed at them, and myself, "oh, no. No way. I could never do that." They just looked at me with a straight face, "you've actually been 'doing that' for quite a while. Try it. Say yes and I'll get you a day on the schedule with me and we can work a shift together”. This was another big band type moment. I started during the Christmas rush and it kicked my ass. I didn't understand the flow or order of anything and I cried multiple times -- but I was in love with the challenge, and determined to learn and master the art of messengering. Just like that, my world expanded.
I thought I'd do that job until the day I died. I honestly thought I would one day be the oldest messenger in NYC. But being a bike messenger was, and is, incredibly dangerous, which was something I began to grapple with every day. Eventually, I felt forced to make a choice, and I chose to leave and take space away from the city.
That search for space brought me to Colorado. I had an uncle here, and after a few unsettled and mostly unstructured months of crashing at his place, he began to ask me what my plan was. Candidly, I had been enjoying not having a plan, but he outlined that I couldn’t sleep on the couch forever.
And then he said it. "Okay, well, you clearly really like bikes, and you have this background in designing and building..." hands gesturing through the air. “Can you combine those? Can you build bikes?" Up until that point, the idea of combining my knack for building and my love of riding bikes hadn’t crossed my mind. But I had plenty of fabrication experience, and at this point knew exactly how I wanted my own bikes to feel when ridden.
My first day as a framebuilder was similar to my first day messengering: I didn't totally understand the flow of it and it completely kicked my ass. But, I've realized that the challenge of learning and mastering a new art ignites a passion for patience and practice. I think life has shown me that I should keep learning and focusing on the art that inspires me and find comfort in not knowing where it will lead. Honestly, where it leads might not even matter. The significance and value is the daily practice of the art itself.
