About this time last year, I was working on an article for
Dandyhorse magazine about
Mike Barry and
Mariposa. Since the article has since appeared and had a chance to reach its readers that way, and since it appeared in an edited form my perfectionist self was not entirely pleased with, I have decided to post it here, where it will remain for posterity.
Mariposas are my favourite bicycles ever. I have seen Mariposas of all kinds: pure road racing bikes, TT bikes, track bikes, randonneurs, touring bikes, camping bikes, tandems, mixtes, fixed-gears with fenders and racks, and so on. They all share the same thing: they are perfect for what they do—functionally superb and aesthetically gorgeous.
There was a big debate about what to call this article. In the magazine it was called "Man of Steel." I wanted to call it "The Road to Mariposa," which is the name of a story from Stephen Leacock's
Sunshine Sketches of a Small Town. Mike and his friends wanted to call it "A Job Worth Doing," though, so that's what I'm calling it here.
I've spruced this up with some photographs from Mariposa's website. For the lovely photos that accompanied the article in
Dandyhorse, you'll need to track down the original article.
Enjoy it! (It's long!—Click on the "
Read More" below if you're reading this on the front page.)
Looking out their windows in the early months of 1970, the residents of Toronto's Davisville Avenue would have seen something strange. In this city of cars, subways, and streetcars—a city very slowly shedding its dreary image of “Toronto the Good” and metamorphosing into the diverse and cosmopolitan city of today—the scene was incongruous. Half-visible in the falling snow, two grown men were taking turns riding an unpainted, rusting, brakeless bicycle along the icy roadway. Looking as delicate and out of place as a butterfly in the winter scene, the bike was designed not for the Canadian January in which it found itself, but for the smooth and immaculate banked surfaces of an indoor velodrome. The men who rode the bike, seeming just as out of place, speaking with foreign accents, had built it in a nearby basement. They were Mike Barry and John Palmer. It was the first Mariposa.