college allotment by living with family and cutting every financial corner he could. A job as a draftsman at a canning company followed. “I had my bike then, but I mostly rode a motorcycle and walked because I wore a suit and tie.”
In 1994 he moved to Tucson and became a volunteer at BICAS (www.bicas.org). During his Tucson years, he developed his now encyclopedic knowledge of bicycles, as well as the most well known of his current traits: dumpster diving. Skills learned as a child hunting for broken radios were honed. He learned to identify the most lucrative dumpsters, fruit trees, and many other spots that support his current “future primitive” life. He is as generous with his finds as he is secretive about their origins. He used to be free and easy with his info, then dumpsters got left messy and would get locked or switched to a compactor by angry owners, or someone might take way beyond their need, leaving nothing for the homeless. When asked why he doesn’t take notes to aid his dumpster diving, his simple reply speaks volumes about his life choices, “If there’s too many to remember, you’re well fed enough.”

If Tucson was a seminal moment for dumpstering, Philadelphia was for bike building. He roomed with a guy who had just gotten a hold of the Paternak Manual, and they decided to teach themselves the craft. They had little more than plumber’s torches, hacksaws and files. From these humble early efforts, Mike produced #1, which has since been cut up so the joints could be inspected from the inside for defects. There were none. Today he has several complete frames under his belt, yet he’s modestly matter-of-fact about bike making’s most challenging aspects, “Yeah, so I threw the fork together and that frame was done.” Making bikes was just a start: he now makes bike part art, and his bookends are famous in West Philly, routinely fetching over $100 at fundraiser raffles.

He describes bikes as “amusement park, obsession, a practical tool,” as well as, “The best damn thing that we human beings have ever come up with.” He went on to say “We might have to scale back on our desires. We have to be humbled by our surroundings and nature some of the time.” We might not want to live like Mike Shih, but there is much to be learned from his example.

Every city has a few urban legends of their own, best profiled by locals that know them best. Get in touch with brad@urbanvelo.org if you’d like to share your local cycling legend.