Changing Bikes in Mid-race

Writer & Actor with the new bike on stage

Simply, Thursday—less than a week from opening night—was a good day for this production.

1)John, Mandy’s sound designer friend I had courted in the early days of production, arrived from L.A. ready to get to work.

2)When Ryan took our much-maligned old Schwinn took to a Harlem bike shop, the owner not only removed the old pedal, but installed a set of new pedals gratis. And in fact, they began discussing sponsorship, and yes, potentially a new racing bike and quieter trainer for use in our show. If we could pull this off, it would be huge.

Shortly after receiving Ryan’s excited text message, I met John for lunch. I caught him up to speed on the production as we leisurely ate delicious Cuban food. Voice recordings and rehearsals, you know, the stuff plays and blogs are made of. Eventually, Mandy and coffee arrived, and the afternoon drifted toward our fateful meeting at ModSquad Cycles.

At five sharp, the production team assembled, Ryan of course having pedaled down from his apartment in full kit. At the door to his delightful shop, owner Oye Carr greeted us. Ryan had already done much of the explanation, and Oye was glad to meet the rest of the team. To me, he asked why I had written about the Tour. I explained that while not a cyclist, I’ve fallen in love with the Belle of Cycling. To his rapt audience, he told us stories of watching and riding alongside the Tour. And then he disappeared to retrieve a suitable bike from the basement.

As we waited among the elite racing machines lining the walls, Mary and Ryan feverishly conceptualized how this project could continue. Dumbfounded, I listened to them strategize workshops and open nights and performances during the Tour itself and culling a sport audience and a few potential backers. And I immediately thanked them for being on the team, with their NY theatre experience and contacts I sorely lack.

Soon enough, Oye was back with a bike. Though it had a gleaming red body, we selected a black bicycle with red handle bars—the signature of the Lanterne Rouge. As we left his shop, we assured Oye he’d have our grateful thanks, an ad in the program, as many tickets as he’d like, and a shout-out on the blog.

Check’em out: http://www.modsquadcycles.com/ (I’ve stopped by several bike shops in the city, and this is one of the nicest.)

Coming off this major victory, we plunged into rehearsal, at last with the full team in attendance—and John pulling double-duty as our first audience member. And so, Ryan ran through the entire show, with me on book and playing the recordings from my computer. We worked through lighting changes and bike movements. John contributed his insightful thoughts on the sound components, the final element missing from the performance, as Mary and Ryan talked out the finer points of emphasis and tone.

Among the conclusions we arrived at: we could not use the current magnetic trainer for the show—it’s just too loud, and I would have to run lights and sound. While the first point meant we’d need to really persuade Oye to loan us his fluid trainer—or acquire one by other means—I have mixed feelings about the second. I take comfort in the idea of having control of my own show’s technical aspects—I not only know the script well-enough to nail the sound cues, but trust myself more than anyone else (except for Mandy) not screw things up. And yet, I feel the burden of responsibility for getting things right, and a sense of reluctance—I just want to hide in the back and watch my own show, not for taking notes or anything (as far as I’m concerned, it’s done when it hits the stage), but to marvel at how far we’ve come, to watch my friends and family, and to see the story I’ve longed to tell come to life. But, I can do all that from the booth I guess, sleeves rolled, punching the buttons, in sync with the performance itself.

After our productive creative discussions, Mary put Ryan back on the bike to work the first half. And at some point, I leaned back on the couch, forgot about the script on my lap, and felt the worry and dread just drain away. I thought, “Things will work out. We have something of a show. A very good one.”

Coda: As I tried to track down a fluid trainer stand on Friday afternoon, Ryan picked up the bicycle from ModSquad and returned for the trainer. He promptly sent me a pic of “our baby”, and John replied to our news: “America! F**k yeah!”