The annual block-party style event celebrating what are generally referred to as “mutant bicycles” hit its Sweet Sixteen this past weekend in Brooklyn. Originated by the Black Label Bicycle Club, Bike Kill rolled along without any major disruptions, a change from recent years, which were marred by rain and overly-enthusiastic cops. This time around, a narrow dead-end street sandwiched between the twin hulks of a building undergoing demolition and a massive docked cruise ship played host to piles of lovingly tended freak bikes and several hundred people, mostly in costume, coming and going over the course of the day.
Riders had to contend with a slightly narrower area to ride in than usual, forcing everyone to do slower, more congenial laps, giving it the feel of an exuberantly weird parade. The slower speed also meant kids and families were able to stay longer, as Bike Kill’s usual level of craziness didn’t ramp up until much later in the day. A toddler in a skeleton dinosaur suit—replete with a tiny dino tail—rode an appropriately-sized green bike around in a circle for hours, beaming, occasionally falling off, and cheerily climbing back on.
Several skeletons did laps next to people in patched and studded bike club vests next to a duo in nude bodysuits, replete with hair in all the anatomically correct places. A bear in a referee’s outfit blew his whistle and gesticulated wildly at everyone and everything; he got into a brief, joyous turf dispute with another person in a bear costume so large it seemed to be melting. A pepperoni pizza and a pineapple rode around together; a jellyfish with long stringy pink entrails raced in circles solo. A friend with a badly broken leg lent his mobility scooter to people to take for a spin.
The bikes are as hard to describe as they are fun to ride: tall bikes, tiny bikes, bikes with hinges that make their frames swing wildly from side to side, grown-up versions of Big Wheels, a cargo-style bike with a surfboard on the front. One of the biggest attention-getters was a very tall bike that was essentially an enormous anarchy symbol with wheels; another tall bike featured a gigantic monstrous-looking covered wagon hood, making the rider look like a large and freakish mollusk floating along.
In the mayhem that Bike Kill is known for, it can be easy to miss the uniqueness of a long-running festival where participants are encouraged to interact with and ride what are essentially sculptures on wheels. Every year sees the debut of new bikes, and the loss of a few favorites that finally fell beyond repair. Some would even argue that it qualifies as a legitimate New York City cultural event at this point.
As the sun set, the traditional bike jousting event began. Two double-decker tall bikes were set up at opposite ends of the crowd, readied with jousting poles fitted with green Hulk hands. Pass after pass, with contenders often falling into the crowd, winners were crowned and injuries narrowly avoided. The audience cheered, and some felt a sense of relief that the event had made it through to the finale.
A couple of NYPD cars had arrived earlier in the day; the officers hung back observing from a distance. One officer was overheard talking to an attendee, "We've absolutely never seen anything like this. A lotta cool bikes.” The cops intervened around 8 and encouraged everyone to go home with a fair degree of detachment; they waited patiently while everyone swept the street together and picked up cans and loaded the bikes into a Uhaul and trailer, headed back to their slumber until next year’s celebration. Bike Kill lives, and, in its 16th year, felt sweeter than ever.
