Skip to main content

Peachtree Bikes

I'm pretty sure that Wednesday night was the most devastating night of my entire career.  Peachtree Bikes in Atlanta burned down.  

Typing those words brings tears to my ears.  I'll let ya Google it, the images and videos and reports with speculations.  I'm gonna let you know what it was to be a part of it.

My phone died after work that evening and I was spending time with family all night, so by the time I got in my car and had my phone plugged in, it was 10p.  I drove up Peachtree Road and got to a road block a block from our shop.  As soon as I got there and turned down the detour road, my phone literally went nuts.  The number of notifications coming in were insane.  So much so that I had to pull over while they started popping up.  I couldn't read most of them, but saw some familiar names of co-workers and friends and sorta just knew.  

I drove around the corner to find my co-workers standing in our parking lot.  When I got out of my car I looked up and saw the blown out windows and shear darkness and lost it.  Our shop was gone. 

The next couple of hours were filled with tears (mostly on my end), stories and questions....

I walked to the front of the building that has faced Peachtree Road since the 1960's and it was then and there that I truly realized it was gone.  Everything my bosses have worked so hard for went up in flames in less than a few minutes and all we have left is a shell and a bunch of memories.

If you worked there or were a customer there, you have a memory of Peachtree Bikes.  These are some of mine...

I've spent the majority of my days over the past 3 years with a bunch of dudes in a place that smells like tire rubber.  I've laughed my ass off.  Had some great beers.  Met some really interesting characters! Been to a few AWESOME parties. I've yelled.  I've cried.  I've been inspired and incredibly confused at times.  I've cut myself on a box cutter that is WAY too dull for most people, but "kid" friendly for an accident-prone girl like me.  I've questioned my own sanity and those of others (mostly theirs :-).  I've been able to stand there in my early mornings with my cup of coffee and enjoy the quiet beauty of what I do.  I've grown there.  I've learned there.  I've pushed myself further than I thought I could go.  I've cleaned and organized.  I made Rolodex's (yeah, they still exist, y'all).  I've met some INCREDIBLE people who make some of the craziness of retail worth it.  I've learned lessons and have a million of those "remember that time..." moments.  

I've spent more time in that little space than I have in my own home simply because, it's my job.

The last couple of days have been a blur filled with so many emotions.  I'm not sure what tomorrow or next week will bring, but I will tell you this:

I work for and with some pretty awesome people whose first questions were, "where are we going to put our pop-up shop?".  The out pour of love, support, condolences and "what can we do for you?" questions has been overwhelming to the point it's brought me to tears.  I'm a part of an awesome community of cyclists who have banded together to let us know that they love us.  I cannot begin to tell you how much that helps me get through my day.

We'll start looking to the future and what our "new normal" is and we'll be better and stronger.

**Some people have asked what they can do to help and our answer is this:  shop at our Sandy Springs store and tell your friends.  We're there and waiting for ya with arms wide open.**

#peachtreebikes #showusyourtee
    

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Goodbye.

 “I don’t know if I should congratulate you or console you.” - Craig “How about both?” - Me This was a conversation in our kitchen earlier this week. After a year and a half of weekly therapy, I had my last session with my therapist Tuesday. Not because I was over it or because it wasn’t working or because he retired. Nope. Because we got to a place where we could both say I’ve got the tools I need to move on. I have to say that there is no timeline for therapy and every situation is unique. I moved on from intensive therapy with my therapist because that it was worked for ME. I am certainly no expert and I have a feeling this isn’t the end of my therapy forever, but I do know that my experience with the right person allowed me to heal in ways I literally never thought possible. And it gave me the experience of a healthy “goodbye”. I was never prepared for that, so when we set an end date (not-so-coincidentally my Nanna’s birthday), it was hard to process. No one talks about

It's a Funny Feeling

Let's be honest, I've been riding my bike more this year than the last 3 years COMBINED. While that's sad for the last couple of summers, it's great for this one. And this girl.  Thanks to some riding buddies who are calm and patient, I've been able to get out and ride more in the city whereas before even the thought of riding in Buckhead scared the living daylights out of me. I've encouraged myself when I really, REALLY don't want to ride and would prefer to go home after a long day and drink a glass of wine. I've pushed myself to go a little further than I felt I could. I faced some fears. Riding over I-285 during rush hour traffic giggling because I was having a way better time than those commuters! I was out this evening by myself on a local rail-to-trail and it was glorious. The trail was quiet with very few people on it, the weather was great and I just felt good! I trucked along at my best pace yet and kept thinking to myself how

Patsy.

A friend sent this video to me and when I watched it, I was struck more by the feelings it brought up around the content than the story itself.  Christen Reighter's story is an interesting and frustrating insight into what it means to NOT want a child. I invite you to watch this. Her experience is not unique and needs to be talked about. Even if you have kids. Or want them. What struck me most was what she says during her TedTalk: "I have believed having children was an extension of womanhood, not the definition." Truth is, I've been struggling with this lately. Not the fact that I'm longing for children. I'd be fibbing if I said there is a very tiny part of me that wonders what this will feel like when I get to the end of life. HOWEVER. That feeling isn't strong enough for me to want to find out. I don't feel like having children should be thought of as a "keeping the fingers crossed" kind of situation. If you aren't sure you'l