Dem bones, dem beers, dem dry bikers

Urban cyclists tend to fall into a few distinct categories: slow-and-steady commuters; corporate logo-covered racers; knapsacked students; and steely-eyed couriers. The groups don't usually spend much time together, on bikes or otherwise, making it a special occasion when they actually do gather to eat, drink, and swap war stories. And Redbones, a barbecue joint in Somerville where battered helmets and oversized shoulder bags are the trendy accessories, seems to be the agreed-upon place to do it.

''On any given night here, it's like 'Cheers,' " says Scott Mullen of Cambridge, who uses his bike in his job maintaining Zipcars around the city. ''You can always count on seeing some fellow riders when you come down here, and you're probably going to know 'em, too."

Why, exactly, has Redbones become a magnet for the pedal-powered set?

The restaurant's bicycle valet parking service -- free, and available whether or not you're a Redbones customer -- is part of the draw. But many who ride there say they just lock their bikes up outside as they do anywhere else. For them, Redbones' appeal comes down to three things -- or four, depending on how you're counting.

''Good food, great beer, great atmosphere. Great beer," says Paul Kapp of Somerville, a concert staging builder and aspiring tattoo artist. ''A lot of people who love bike riding also enjoy good beer, and it's one of the best places, I think probably the best place in Boston or the surrounding [communities] for good beer."

Somewhat surprisingly, bikers' allegiance to the place doesn't seem to fall off much in the winter, perhaps because its cycle-centric events are year-round.

Last month, the restaurant held a raucous fund-raiser for Arlington-based bike racer Maureen Bruno Roy's trip to the Netherlands to represent the US in the world championships of cyclocross, a high-speed, crash-filled form of racing in which riders use lightweight, knobby-tired bikes to race around hilly, muddy, and often snowy courses. (She earned the honor, not coincidentally, on a titanium wonderbike made across town by Independent Fabrication.)

In an atmosphere that was part family reunion, part pep rally, and part keg party, the local cyclocross community partied well into the night, in the process picking up Roy's several-thousand dollar racing budget.

Events like these highlight Redbones' warm place in the heart of the local cycling industry: Kapp and several other regulars once worked for either titanium-bike pioneer Merlin (now based in Tennessee) or the late and much-lamented Fat City Cycles. When those companies went away, some of their former employees went on to found Independent Fabrication and Seven Cycles, based in Watertown. ''To this day, it can be argued that the greatest bicycles in the world are made within 10 miles of here," says Richard Fries, publisher of Arlington-based cycling magazine The Ride. Other attractions near Redbones: ''You have the head of the Minuteman path here, you have a real solid college community. It's like a perfect storm of things."

Much of the Redbones staff cycles often, a shared love that leads to several regular cycling events. The biggest is an after-work cocktail party during the annual Bike To Work Week in May, in which the narrow side street in front of the restaurant is turned into a bike-, beer-, and beef-centric block party, with proceeds going to advocacy groups MassBike and the New England Mountain Bike Association.

During the Tour de France's climbing stages, Redbones hosts two Friday-morning breakfast rides in which riders take part in one of three loops through the hills of the northwest suburbs before returning to the restaurant to eat and watch cable coverage of their heroes taking on the Alps and Pyrenees.

A former mountain biker who now mostly rides on the road, Redbones manager Jeff Broadman says his cyclist-friendly efforts are part of an ''under-the-radar" marketing approach.

''We try to do something that's a little out of the ordinary that builds enthusiasm for us," he says, noting that hungry, thirsty bikers aren't exactly bad for business. Bikers are ''hungry people. But we also like them. We like everyone, so it's not that it's discriminatory in any way, it's just that we also like bikes." Says Mike Sharpe, a 34-year-old tire salesman: ''Whether you're a courier, a guy wearing Spandex and riding a $3,000 bike, or you're just riding around on a $40 hoopty, everyone's welcome here. You see a lot of greasy socks and rolled-up pant legs, and you just kinda know that you're home."

Will Kilburn can be reached at wkilburn@globe.com