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Tom Ritchey – Pedaling Home

You would never arrive at Tom Ritchey ’s house, deep in the Santa Cruz Mountains, unless you were going there to see him or you were lost. Built years ago by Ritchey himself from rough-hewn logs, his place is a long ways from the hyper-packaged cookie-dough construction that has infected much of Southern California’s landscape. Ritchey has created a shelter equal to the storms that pound it each winter—a sturdy, no-nonsense structure reflecting homegrown values and attention to detail. Rolling down Tom’s football-field-length driveway, I find him in his shop, performing the alchemy of transforming metal tubing into some of the world’s fastest non-motorized machines, a.k.a. Ritchey Bicycles. Looking up f rom his workbench, he smiles and walks, hand extended in advance, to my car, before introducing himself and greeting me with a warm handshake. Returning to his shop, we speak about him, his bikes, and Project Rwanda, a movement that he recently birthed in a passion for bringing bicycles to Africa, to help reestablish a solid economic base and national pride. A quick tour of Ritchey’s home makes it is obvious that this place was crafted to enhance, not contain, life. His hands still bear the scars from a hammer swung decades ago. This is all backdrop to his story, but the reason for the story and what matters most is Tom Ritchey’s vision that millions can be saved by a device that the average American kid believes is grown on a Christmas tree.

Tom is deliberate and confident in his speech, passionate to the point of tears about the things he loves. His kind heart is balanced by a mind that has conceived a blueprint that might just rescue an entire nation. Or, maybe, as he explains, it wasn’t really his idea at all.

Risen Magazine: Did you tinker as a kid?

Tom Ritchey: My dad had a nice shop and if I wanted to build a go-cart or a sailboat, we would do it. I built a three-story tree fort when I was five, and it got to the point where my father said, “You’ve gotta take this thing down; you’re gonna kill yourself.” I built an electric car when I was 11 that he helped me figure out. In 1971, when I was 14, I told my dad, “Hey, I think I can build a [bicycle] frame.” We were able to reverse engineer things and I built my first bike. At that time there were only a few people building bikes in the U.S., and just getting tubing was a huge deal. I started winning races and when people noticed that I had built my own bike, the beginnings of a business were not far off. I built my friend’s bikes, made some money, and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.

RM: You’re a Christian and an environmentalist. For some reason those two things don’t often go together.

TR: I was part of that isolation for a good part of my life. I didn’t really get it. Then, when I started having some things crumble around me, there were a bunch of great people around me at the same time—the catching mechanism, the grace mechanism, the forgiveness, all that stuff seemed like it was set up for me in the last five years or so. To me it has been a great midlife crisis. When I went to Rwanda, I had a lot on my mind, like the need for forgiveness, personally. There I saw signs of hope from people who have committed themselves to looking forward, rather than back. But some people live only for earth, others live only for heaven.

When I went to Rwanda, I had a lot on my mind, like the need for forgiveness, personally. There I saw signs of hope from people who have committed themselves to looking forward, rather than back.

RM: If the earth was a house, it would be in pretty bad repair. Where did you start fixing things?

TR: I’m not sure that I started anywhere. You talk about the earth being an unkempt house, I think that’s also a metaphor for the accumulated dust and cobwebs we all have around our souls. Over time we realize we’ve made a lot of messes. Jesus once said, “If you don’t forgive others, the Heavenly Father won’t forgive you.” The test of living in any sort of true relationship in terms of your faith comes down to forgiveness. It’s humiliating to think about how much we carry with us, how much we struggle with on a daily basis. When I went to Rwanda, I brought over my cynicisms, my hardheartedness, and my prejudices. Within a couple days I felt this weight and this self-reflection deconstructing in me. I realized I was around people that were living with incomprehensible amounts of pain in a gracious way. I thought, If I have to go halfway around the world to experience this, I’m not going to go back and forget it. To me the natural commitment to an environment like Rwanda has to start with the humanity of us all. Politics divide, religions divide. There’re so many divisive things in our culture that breed all of our cynicism. One thing that steers Project Rwanda is the idea that all people need second chances. God gives us second chances—more than that, He gives us as many as we take. He’s all forgiving and longsuffering for us. Either we believe that and that’s the way we relate to one another, or we play games with God’s forgiveness.

RM: Are you concerned that Africa could become a huge welfare state?

TR: I’m new to this, but when I went to Rwanda, I found that some institutions tended to become isolated from the culture and gain their own little identities. They drive Range Rovers; they live in special housing complexes. It’s obvious that a lot of resources don’t go to the people they are supposed to go to.

RM: How did you connect with the Rwandan culture?

TR: I come from the land of everyone’s dreams, the United States, with opportunities that have been handed to me on a silver platter. Who am I to come over there and connect with them? But what I found immediately was that when you’re on a bicycle and they’re on a bicycle, and you’re on a dirt road and they’re on a dirt road, it’s a completely different experience. People lit up – it transcended any kinds of language barriers. You become real to them and they become real to you. The bicycle is a freedom tool for us, but to them it’s like owning a rocket ship. Only one in 40 owns a bike in Rwanda, and when they don’t own a bike, they build wooden ones. For eight or 10 dollars, they develop a scooter that they build with a machete. It can push a couple hundred pounds of produce or wood or materials. I thought, This is incredible, the inventive human spirit is alive and well here. They’re just like us; they have the same desires to be successful, to raise their families, to have a roof over their heads, to have a respectable career or job. The bike is a huge blessing to them in accelerating that process.

RM: So you think the bicycle can stimulate the economy?

TR: As I started peeling back their issues, I realized there was a lot of food in Rwanda, but most of it rots, because it can?t be transported. Most people are subsistence farmers; they don?t buy or sell. Stimulating their economy is a matter of getting more transportation. One person grows tomatoes, another grows corn, and they trade. That trade becomes a little more sophisticated, and with the use of the bicycle, it goes to market. Then there?s the trading of money. There are 500,000 small crop farmers and they?re living large compared to the rest of the population, which is hard to imagine when you see how they live.

RM: How did you build the first bikes to transport coffee in Rwanda?

TR:As I started peeling back their issues, I realized there was a lot of food in Rwanda, but most of it rots, because it can’t be transported. Most people are subsistence farmers; they don’t buy or sell. Stimulating their economy is a matter of getting more transportation. One person grows tomatoes, another grows corn, and they trade. That trade becomes a little more sophisticated, and with the use of the bicycle, it goes to market. Then there’s the trading of money. There are 500,000 small crop farmers and they’re living large compared to the rest of the population, which is hard to imagine when you see how they live.

RM: How has Project Rwanda changed you?

TR: The feeling you get when you realize that you’re transitioning from a self-focused life to a servant?s life? It?s not a small door you’re walking through, it?s a huge door. The third world needs millions and billions of bikes. You see that you?re at a certain place with your gifts, your talents, and your rescources where you can step through that door, and you don?t know why it’s all come together the way it has. The feeling you have is almost one of destiny.

RM: So you feel like you were created, at least in part, for this purpose?

TR: It’s feeling more and more like that, yeah, but that sounds presumptuous. I don’t mean it that way, but I felt that enough things have happened in this last 19 months that people’s lives are being touched… It’s not about me anymore.

RM: Would you like to see more people riding bikes in the U.S.?

TR: The bike I designed for Rwanda is kind of a bicycle pickup truck. People here look at it and think, Hey, I could carry my groceries on it; I could carry my kids on it. There’s a lot of weight that can be put on this bike. People that like the project for Africa want to get one in the U.S. or Europe. I’d like to stimulate the use of the wooden bike in the U.S. too, to help it be seen as a cool thing.

The bike I designed for Rwanda is kind of a bicycle pickup truck. People here look at it and think, Hey, I could carry my groceries on it; I could carry my kids on it.

RM: It seems that a lot of good causes die for lack of a sense of humor.

TR:We want Project Rwanda to be fun, not a bunch of sad-looking images. We want people to be drawn to it because cycling is a fun and noble sport. We want to do fun events, maybe race down Lombard Street in San Francisco on wooden bikes. It’s important to us that Project Rwanda have many dimensions. I want people to know we’re not a giveaway organization. We’re partnering with Rwandans and, hopefully, creating economic opportunities for them. And, in the same way that the Kenyans became runners of renown, we feel that the Rwandans can become cyclists of renown. They have the right physique, and a hilly, beautiful environment.

RM: Is Rwanda dangerous?

TR: I’ve had all my children there and we all agree that it’s as safe as anywhere. People?s perception of Rwanda is changing. Last year I could barely get 10 people to come over with me. This year I might have a hundred people come along.

RM: Someone told me they tried to explain atheism to a Rwandan and they thought it was the stupidest idea they had ever heard. Did you find a tendency toward faith in that country?

TR: [Laughs] Faith is a big part of the Rwandan culture. Also, they’re reflective, sincere people. There’s obviously something going on in Rwanda that’s different. There’s a spirit of forgiveness there. They went to the edge of a cliff, the world was turning its attention elsewhere and they decided it was up to them to change. When you’ve experienced that much pain and raw hatred…

RM: What was their reaction to new bicycles?

TR:The day that they got their bikes was amazing. There was racing in Rwanda, but the bikes were things you would pay five dollars for at a garage sale. The tires were low on pressure because they were full of holes. They’d never ridden good bikes before. It was phenomenal for them. You’re on your $4,000 bike and they’re on their scraped together $50 bike, not even aware that the mountain bike was invented.

RM: I heard you invented the mountain bike.

TR: [Laughs] I used to claim that in my early, high-minded career, but no. Some of us were there at the right time.

RM: What’s it like touring a completely foreign country on a bicycle?

TR: Being a stranger on a bike is a fun. You smile, they smile. You have an influence on them; they have an influence on you. It’s similar to being on the beach with a dog and one other person comes up to you with a dog. People who might not otherwise connect are brought together because of the bike.

RM: Ironically, people drive to the gym to pay to get on an electronic stationary bicycle. It seems they could at least use all that energy to light the gym.

TR:Yeah, That’s a great one… [Laughs] There’s a guy in South Africa who combined a merry-go-round with pumping water. The kids have a great time and the village is getting water. When the sun goes down in Rwanda, the lights go out. There’s a reason a lot of babies are born in Rwanda. [Laughs] There’s not a lot to do there after dark. I have a dream of training the cyclists to harness the power for the coffee stations. Keep feeding people and they’ll keep making electricity. [Laughs]

RM: Obviously the bicycle can do more than just fuel the economy.

TR:Rwanda has the ability to breed national pride with the bike. It would be great if Africa didn’t go the way of Asia, where everything is so motor-driven that the bicycle now is almost forgotten.

RM: Einstein said he thought good ideas came from beyond himself; where do you think they come from?

TR:The ease in which an idea comes makes me think it comes from elsewhere, yeah. My bike is my office and 90 percent of my ideas come, out of the blue, when I’m on my bike. It’s a spontaneous combustion. [Laughs] I’ve held off patenting some things because for the longest time I’ve felt those ideas were not mine. I always thought that God authored the ideas that I’ve had and that He could supply more.

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