pdxcross

Between the gaggle of photographers who make up pdxcross, we’ve lived in a whole bunch of cities and countries. We couldn’t think of another city that could pull off something like Oregon Manifest. Every corner of the two-level space held some creative, skilled person making something by hand to a level of quality that made me shake my head and smile. Frame builders showed their infinite variations on a machine refined by time; racers, commuters, touring rigs, randonee rides, tandems, and mountain bikes, in materials as varied as titanium and laminated wood. Wool clothing hung from hangers, begging me to pretend I was fast enough to wear it with grace. Even the beer that came my way was built by hand. In one corner, a jumble of bikes looked impossible to ride. But then a guy in a neck brace (don’t you want to know that story?) not only rode one of those bikes, he rode it while standing on the seat and handlebar. That was after my beer, but I’m sure I saw it. I mean, it was only one beer, right?

In the end, we left humbled by all the ways bicycles have entered the life of the city. The hall was almost empty by the time we took down our pictures from the cyan wall near the stairway, which felt a little sad. Until a young woman from the little coffee stand came over, hands stretched in front of her: “This is our last scone. It’s good. You want it?” You bet we did. We dedicate the pictures we took to her sense of sharing, which kind of capped the mood of the whole weekend for us. Thanks.

-torsten