The Recyclery – A Bicycle Cooperative
The searing roar of automobile engines calmly subsided as we crunched our road bikes up a dry, dusty dirt path. He said there was no address, and I’m not exactly sure what we expected. Half way up, a woman unloading a torn up sofa onto the dirt caught our eye. “Oh, you’re looking for Matty?” Her smile beamed at us. “He’s out picking up a generator. Go on up.”
The place looked less like a residence and more like a construction site. A handful of beautiful straw bale structures were scattered around the six and a half acres, spots of civilization in an expanse of overgrown clutter. Building materials and garbage and tools were strewn about, an obstacle course for the myriad chickens and turkeys clucking around. Above our heads, one of the city’s power lines tore through the sky directly above a solar panel mounted in a vegetable garden.
Matty’s laughter crept up on us with that playful enthusiasm you usually only see in children. “Yeah, we try to pretend that’s not there.” His scraggly beard clung to his chin like oily straw. “A couple of good ol’ boys came working through here and they were just like ‘Man! You guys livin’ right here under the power line and you ain’t even hooked into the grid? That’s awesome!’” The sun shot off his lip ring and he scooped up his four-year-old son.
