Local custom

WENHAM - In a woody neighborhood off the Miles River, the low buzz of a welding machine emanates from a nondescript garage. Inside, Christopher Igleheart is adding modern flair to a 19th-century process: He is building a custom bicycle frame, tube by tube, by hand.

As much an artist as a manufacturer, Igleheart holds a place in a long line of industrialists.

When bicycles were first introduced to the United States in 1876, Boston quickly rose to become the center of the domestic bicycle trade, home to the Pope Manufacturing Co. and the Overman Wheel Co., the premier bicycle builders in the nation.

The automobile now rules, but the century-old bicycle remains the same. This simple machine retains nearly the same characteristics as its forebears, though major bike manufacturing long ago moved overseas.

In its wake, an artisan tradition was established. Once home to the country's most prolific bicycle manufacturers, towns outside Boston, along the North Shore, and in southern New Hampshire now boast the nation's densest concentration of custom bicycle frame builders.

"I love frames," Igleheart said. "There's a process, a whole routine of making them. Each one I try to make better than the last."

Igleheart, 51, began his love affair with bicycles more than 30 years ago, starting as a bike shop employee in Portland, Maine. After owning his own shop, he became an apprentice to Chris Chance, the mastermind and master frame builder behind Fat City Cycles in Somerville. Fat City Cycles, begun in 1981, brought together many skilled builders who created such models as the "Wicked Fat Chance" mountain bike, which aficionados still reverently consider one of the most perfect ever made.

At Fat City, Igleheart welded frames and made front forks, a variety now referred to as the "traditional New England" model. Striking out on his own, he designed off-road tandem frames with a lighthearted "cow" paint scheme, with white tubes spotted with black and pink "udders" where the tubes met the cranks. He worked under other designers, produced small parts for different companies, and perfected his own creations, including a folding tandem bike. His bikes, forks, and designs have appeared under corporate names for national chains. Throughout moves to Maine and Portland, Ore., and then back to Fat City, Igleheart innovated.

Fat City folded in 1994, but its employees reseeded themselves liberally around the region by joining established bicycle builders or forming new firms. Igleheart had already begun growing his own brand, Igleheart Custom Frames.

Now working out of the garage of his home, Igleheart creates one-man custom models with an aura of New England know-how, gained through stubborn trial and error. Like a fine, hand-sewn suit, the bikes are designed to fit his clients' preferences and physical idiosyncrasies. His traditionalist's approach is refreshing in a bicycle market where "custom" has become synonymous with "high end" - bikes made of carbon, titanium, or other materials that can cost upward of $10,000.

By contrast, Igleheart works mainly in welded steel, now considered an old-fashioned metal in today's cycling world, though the tubing currently available is better than ever. There are reasons for using steel: It's flexible, it's resilient, it offers a ride less harsh than some of the ultralight and brittle materials currently gaining popularity, he said. His bikes aren't meant to stay clean; his specialties include a mountain bike nicknamed "The Penguin" ("a well-dressed bird for all occasions") and a cyclocross model raced by a local team.

Cyclocross, a fall-winter cycling sport that's part on- and off-road and part steeplechase, tests riders over short courses with dirt paths, muddy pits, and manmade barriers. As the sport increases in popularity in New England, Igleheart's bikes appear regularly in local and regional races under racers supported by Cambridge Bicycle in Cambridge.

"I won two races last year in one weekend," says Jeremy Dunn, who works at Cambridge Bicycle. "It was because of the bike. The course was really muddy, and my bike was the best for the conditions."

Dunn said he admires Igleheart's design sensibility, which aims for versatility in every frame. He outfits most bikes with enough clearance for narrow wheels or wider ones, fenders, or different kinds of brakes.

Custom bikes can be the best answer for individuals whose bodies just don't fit standard, mass-produced sizes. But clients also are drawn to Igleheart's work out of a loyalty to New England design, an appreciation for the builder's experimental additions to every project, or simply a fondness for the affable Igleheart himself.

"We're lucky to have him in the area," said Mark Ricci, who owns the popular Village Restaurant in Essex.

Ricci has three Igleheart bikes, and he celebrates their uniqueness.

"I've ridden a lot of bikes made out of different materials, but nothing rides like his bikes."

Most recently, Igleheart's projects have reached back into the city, with a new track bike made especially for Cambridge Bicycle and Harris Cyclery in West Newton.

Though designed for racing on tracks like the New England Velodrome, a go-cart loop in Londonderry, N.H., that hosts bike racing twice a week, they've caught the eye of urban commuters who favor simple machines with only one speed.

"I feel incredibly lucky to be able to make bicycles for a living. Everyone should be able to do what they do best," Igleheart says, adding with a smile that he thinks riding a bike is still his greatest skill.

An advocate for city riding as well as trail adventures, Igleheart and his son, Max, participated Sunday in the Hub On Wheels citywide Boston ride, which was organized to showcase the city as a place that is friendly to cylists.

"It's time we took care of ourselves and pushed ourselves around," he said.

"Riding a bike improves our quality of life."