Pushing The Envelope Jet City’s Spokesmen Talk With Speed, Average 25 Pollution-Free Miles A Day

To hear Macintosh Blackpine tell it, a bike messenger in Spokane has a pretty boring job. Relaxing between runs in a downtown cafe last week, the owner and only full-time employee of Jet City Messengers did his best to derail the “myth” of terror on two wheels.

“It doesn’t have to be a life-threatening occupation,” he began in a measured voice.

He was interrupted, however, by a voice from his radio that told a different story.

“John to Mac,” hissed the transceiver.

“Go John,” Blackpine replied.

“I’m gonna be a couple minutes. I just ate it.”

Minutes later, blood was still trickling down John Clark’s shins into his socks as he checked in with the boss.

“Gravel on the road,” he said. “Swoosh - I didn’t have a chance.”

But never mind the scrapes. The chance to combine their pedal passion with a paycheck is what keeps Blackpine and Clark glued to their radios and their narrow seats, waiting for the next call.

“I have a sweet tooth for bikes,” said Blackpine, who owns five, including the fixed-gear BMX Cruiser that he rides for work.

With rates as low as $3.50 per delivery and minimum wage the standard pay, it could be said that a bike messenger’s biggest challenge isn’t potholes or loose gravel, but a daily race with the cycle of poverty.

In the age of fax machines, e-mail and the Internet, a bike messenger sticks out like a broken spoke. But sprocket-powered delivery is hardly a historical anachronism, said Blackpine, a Spokane native who took over the 7-year-old service in April 1996.

“Most any kind of business needs some kind of paper run around every once in awhile,” he said.

ALSC Architects is one such firm.

“A blueprint is 36-inch-by-24-inch and you can’t fax it,” said Sheryl Vineyard, an administrative assistant.

“We could send somebody out of the office and it would cost us three times what they charge.”

Concern for the environment also steers business toward Jet City.

“I know that they don’t pollute,” said Barbara Bain, a job coordinator at Standard Blue Print. “They aren’t going to be driving around the core area where we know we have a big problem.”

On Spokane’s pockmarked asphalt, the big problem for bike messengers is flat tires, said Blackpine. Broken glass and thumb tacks are the sharpest offenders, but all sorts of objects can deflate a perfectly good delivery.

“I ran over a wood screw just the other day,” he said.

Working a typical 8-to-5 shift, bike messengers here crank out an average 25 miles per day, far less than their big-city counterparts, for whom a 60-mile day is not uncommon.

The average delivery takes less than an hour, with super-rush service available at a higher rate.

“You’re on foot as much as you are on bike,” said Blackpine, whose uniform consists of lightweight hiking shoes, shorts, a sleeveless shirt and a bag made from waterproof truck tarp sewn onto a shoulder strap.

With his bulbous red helmet, Blackpine doesn’t much resemble a cowboy.

But he runs his business largely from the saddle. On his chest, a voice pager alerts him to incoming deliveries. The radio, also strapped to his chest, allows him to dispatch and track other riders.

“Almost every day I get asked if I’m a police officer,” he said. “When I do paperwork by parking meters, people will think I’m starting to write them a ticket. I don’t know what it is.”

Out on the street, Blackpine stays alive by acting like a car. He’s proud of the fact that he’s never been “doored.”

“We’re not at war with the auto,” he said. “Eye contact and hand signals can do wonders. You just have to work with the herd.”

Curb-jumping cyclepaths with no brakes and no worries need not apply at Jet City.

“Those kind of people don’t last long,” he said. “You have to be coolheaded.”

Previous employees have used the job to supplement bike racing careers, said Blackpine, who cares less about how his riders look than about how they perform. If only because they demonstrate an ability to withstand pain, tattoos, nose rings and body piercings are clues Blackpine has discovered frequently point toward good potential employees.

When winter rolls in, the wheels keep turning. Cold weather and snow present a special challenge, Blackpine said, but not an insurmountable one. Thick knobby tires provide traction in all but the worst conditions, and a $5-per-month locker in the basement of the STA Plaza - the “branch office” - is a place to store a Thermos of hot coffee.

In the summer, even though it’s the slowest time of year for deliveries (too many office types on vacation), a bike messenger’s bag is always bulging with bottled water to ward off heat that rises from the pavement in waves. But that’s just the way Blackpine likes it.

“This is the time of year when the guys in suits wish they had my job,” he says. “In the winter, it’s just the opposite.”

But during the hot days of August, winter is far away, and Blackpine is thinking about what he’ll do when he gets home from work: go for a bike ride, of course.

“It’s even more fun when you’re not on the clock.”

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