Makers — II
Jordan MacKinnon of The Bike Co-op
Jordan MacKinnon looks up from the drive train of his “do-everything” winter bike, Moonshine. The rear wheel spins, high off the ground in the repair stand at Our Community Bikes, clicking healthily as Jordan frames his thoughts. “What makes a city,” he says, starting slowly, “outside of the buildings, the infrastructure, the jobs, I mean… what makes a city are the spaces where people are doing work that isn’t paid work. And spaces that are free.”
I’ve been watching him tinker with Moonshine for about half an hour. In that time our conversation has drifted easily across the usual suspects of affordability and rain into territory less explored like riding the Gran Fondo and home-made beer, but this comment lodges itself in my brain.
“It’s a big worry I have for Vancouver. I really hope it doesn’t give away access to spaces like these.”
On the day I interview Jordan it is pouring rain. This is not surprising, given that it is spring. When the sun shines on Vancouver, it can seem like a paradise in which no one could ever feel bored or isolated. When it pours, I am reminded how challenging it is to be away from home yet still indoors, without paying through the nose for that privilege.
“For me, it’s more about the DIY spaces than the maker spaces. Places where you can come and learn on your own. When I first came to Vancouver in 2009, I ended up at the Bike Kitchen to overhaul a hub for my bike. I was totally sold. I just thought the place was amazing. That they could start out with three people and $10,000 and work its way up to having a staff of ten is pretty inspiring.”
Jordan is one of those ten, working as the sustainability coordinator. “I think I kind of got the job by just hanging around all the time bugging the bike mechanics. I started out as a volunteer and after a while I guess it was just like, ‘Well, he’s here all the time, I guess he works here now.’”
“Were you working on Moonshine there?”
“I’m not sure which one I was building at the time. I have five and I’ve built all but one. Even on that one I replaced mostly everything.” I suppose my face reflects something I didn’t intend and he looks momentarily shy about his menagerie of bikes. “They’re all good for different things.” He doesn’t need to qualify it. I routinely saddle up my road bike with heavy bags it wasn’t designed to haul and just as routinely feel the difference when it transforms from a greyhound into a sea cow. Some part of my mind starts ticking on whether there might be a Moonshine in my future.
Other cities begin popping up in the conversation, many of which Jordan has called home. First Saskatoon, then Regina, Calgary and Montreal. Gradually, though, an affection for Victoria reveals itself. He’s non-committal when I ask him if he’d prefer it to Vancouver.
“Where you settle depends on so many factors, not just how you feel about the city. Vancouver does have this transient feel, but at the same time it’s like there’s this groundswell of awareness about what the city wants to be. Like it’s still shaping that. Underneath all the affordability issues it is such a cool city and I have a lot of hope for it.”
He waves a hand around the bike shop, where several others have been dipping in and out of our conversation as they’ve come in to gather parts and tools. “The soul of this city is in these spaces.” He nods, reaffirming his previous thought. “I have a lot of hope for Vancouver.”
