Wheel cute
Six years ago, Tecla Ris of Arlington was suffering through the usual morning traffic hassles as she drove to her job in Cambridge when she decided she couldn't bear the congestion anymore.
Then she realized she didn't have to. Ris, who grew up near Amsterdam, remembered she had her grandmother's 80-year-old bike in the basement and could get to Cambridge on that instead, zipping past the stalled cars. It was a typical commuter bike of the sort still widely used in the Netherlands -- sturdy, reliable, and low-tech. It had one gear, an old-fashioned coaster brake (you pedal backward to stop), a bell, high handlebars, and a chain guard that made it perfect for a woman in a skirt. It worked fine for a while, but it was too old to stand up to Cambridge traffic, so she eventually asked her father to bring her a new one from the Netherlands. (He painted it pink and purple and gave it to her for her birthday.) And that's when the idea for JollyBike , a company that imports Dutch bikes, came to her.
``People loved my bike," says Ris, 41, who works for EF Educational Homestay Program, a travel program for international students. ``I'd go into a shop, and when I came out, there would be a crowd around it. They would say to me, `Nice bike! Where did you get it?' "
Understand that Ris's bike is a different species from the ones seen on Boston streets these days, propelled by hunched-over speeders in spandex. You sit upright when you ride it, you can't go very fast, and you're better off walking it than riding it up a hill. Plus, it's pink and purple.
But since it was already causing a stir, she suspected she was on to something. So two months ago she and a friend, Monet Uva, 32, a conference coordinator at Harvard University, set up shop in Ris's house importing bicycles from the Netherlands. Each leaves the Netherlands in one of five vibrant colors -- lime green, red, periwinkle, violet, and blue -- and ``we turn it into a JollyBike by painting whatever customers want on the jasbechermer," says Uva, using the Dutch word for ``coat protector," which hangs over the rear tire and keeps clothing from getting caught in the spokes.
JollyBike designs have included flowers, peace symbols, and polka dots; one engineer asked for a jasbechermer with Maxwell's equation on it. ``It's something to do with magnetism and electricity," says Uva, who obligingly researched it before replicating it on the bike with enamel paint. They also sell accessories from the Netherlands, such as flowered oilcloth saddle bags ($40); a flower-shaped bike light ($15); and plastic rain covers for bicycle seats, designed with fruit, flowers, or windmills ($20 ). The adult-size bicycles cost $600.
The women have been selling the bikes through their website and at neighborhood festivals. Sales are slow but steady, and already they're getting fan mail. Uva found a note one day when she'd parked in Harvard Square. It said, ``Dear Stranger, Your bike is so cute! Love, a passerby."
JollyBike, $600, 617-817-5758, www.jollybike.com .
