Image of the Major Taylor Project and Meilissa
When I met with Ed Ewing, director of the Major Taylor Project--an after-school cycling program--he made one thing very clear, “Dude, this is absolutely not my show. Sooooo many people have pitched in to make this thing happen. It’s been a team effort since day one.”

And as Ed recounts the story of the Major Taylor Project, that theme remains true. Despite individual influences that are as personal as his parents and as public as President Barack Obama himself, the culmination of the Major Taylor Project has indeed been a team effort. In fact, the effort of those many people coming together is analogous to that of a team in a bicycle race; the pack worked together to give Ed a draft, setting him up to break away and forge ahead with the team’s support as they push towards a spectacular finale.

Ed’s an easy character to spot in the Northwest cycling scene. He’s often the only African American racer at most bike races. The program’s namesake, Major Taylor, also African American, was a world champion cyclist in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s.  Major Taylor was sometimes kept off the racing track for entire racing seasons due to racism and the subsequent Jim Crow laws. Regardless, he went on to become one of America’s most accomplished cyclists.

During one of those rare warm and sunny May days, Ed and I were able to get together at the Major Taylor Project’s headquarters in the White Center neighborhood of West Seattle.

Filling our plastic water bottles, we turn off our cell phones and head towards the building’s back patio. After draining an entire bottle of water (of course I rode my bike to the interview), I ask Ed what inspired this program.

“Honestly,” he replies, “Barack Obama’s election was a call to action for many people. That whole question of: ‘If not me, then who - if not now, then when?’ Personally, what I could contribute was right in front of me. I grew up in a neighborhood that was 98 percent Black. My folks worked two jobs apiece to afford private school tuition for my brother and me. The school was predominately white.”

The contrasting circumstances made life exceedingly complicated for Ed and his brother.

“We got teased all the time by the neighborhood kids…we lost friends.”

Their escape was their bicycles.

“We’d be out in the garage, taking apart our bicycles and putting them back together.”

Soon they were going on long rides every weekend with their parents and by the time they were in high school, both Ed and his brother were racing.

“I used to ride with these racer guys who would just ride as fast as they could, trying to drop me. But they never could. I’d just hang on, refusing to get dropped.”
The Major Taylor Project’s story begins roughly two years ago when King County Executive Ron Sims traveled to Chicago, where he attended a bicycle festival. He returned having experienced a thriving community-based cycling program, built around the understanding that under-served kids were not being properly supported in regard to bicycle awareness. Coincidentally, Ron had recently befriended Chuck Ayers, the director of the Seattle based Cascade Cycling Club. The two bonded over their shared interest in cycling. Upon his return from Chicago, Ron mentioned the cycling program to Chuck, who in turn mentioned the program to Ed.

“When we all finally got together to officially talk,” says Ed, “It was like, ‘Maaaaan, about time.’”

I’ve drained another bottle of water and it becomes apparent that our interview is about to wrap up. Kids are arriving, strapping on helmets and preparing their donated Redline bicycles for a ride. Ed excuses himself and departs to dress for the day’s ride.

“Nothing hinges upon this, but if we can make spandex look cool, all these kids will be completely sold.” jokes Ed.

I laugh when I see Ed moments later, wearing a shockingly red cycling kit. The outfit leaves little doubt as to his commitment to his mission.

The leader of the day’s ride is giving the kids a tutorial on riding in traffic. After the lesson, I wander up to one of the kids, a young man named Anu from Nigeria. I ask him why he showed up for the ride today.

“I want to race. I want to be professional… and I want to meet good people.” Anu replies.

I notice another kid explaining to her friend how to shift the bike’s gears. Her name is Melissa. As her friend is wrestling with the complexity that is integrated braking and shifting, I ask her, “Why are you here today?”

Melissa replies, “Um… just to have fun. Oh, and to be healthy. I think those things are good.”

As the kids push off for their ride, I watch them work together as a group, staying tight and safe. Ed follows like a momma duck, keeping track of the group as a whole.

Pedaling his fancy lightweight racing bicycle, clothed in bright red spandex, Ed looks a little awkward moving at the same speed as the group’s slowest kid. But when I pass, I witness a look of deep satisfaction on his face. I imagine the Major Taylor Project is exactly what his childhood could have used.