Part Two, Weekend Pedal: Touring Detroit at the 'speed of bike'

Editor's Note: Southwest Michigan native and bike-touring aficionado Mark Wedel decided to spend a weekend on his bicycle in Detroit. He learned what he always knew, that seeing the world at 12 mph from a bicycle, slow-rollin', is a vivid experience. But Detroit, being already vivid, can be very intense for a pedaler. Check out the carousel about for more detailed photos of Mark's trip.

Part One, published August 22, 2024


DETROIT, MI — It's a sunny Saturday in July, and I'm tootling around Detroit on my bicycle.

It seemed a simple idea. Roll my bike onto the Wolverine out of Kalamazoo, go to the big city, ride around for a weekend. See if “bicycle tourism” can be a thing.

I instinctively head toward the tourist sights. Go to the Detroit River. On the RiverWalk, there's "Gateway to Freedom," the sculpture of people escaping slavery, pointing over the water to Canada. I pedal uphill on Bates to see Joe Louis' "Fist" and "The Spirit of Detroit."  

Back down the RiverWalk to eat a coney dog and Better Made chips at a handy plaza — I don't even like coney dogs, but I felt the need to try the local cuisine in the appropriate setting. I felt very "Detroiters" (the Comedy Central series by Detroit natives, that partially inspired this trip; see the show's Tim Robinson explain why coneys are perfect for breakfast, lunch, dinner), but I still don't like coney dogs.

Mark WedelThe koi pond between the conservatory and the aquarium on Belle Isle.Then to Belle Isle, a major destination for Detroit bikers who have the goal of riding its circumference. The road around the island was the busiest road I saw that weekend, however. Traffic is not fun, so I meandered to Belle's Central Ave., which becomes a shared bike/car road with a 20 mph speed limit. It goes into the island's woodsy wetlands, which was just like many Michigan State Parks I've pedaled through — and that's just what Belle Isle is. 

I tried circumnavigating the island again on Sunday. Again, heavy traffic had me wandering, to Sunset Point, to the ornate 1920s Scott Fountain, to the Oudolf Garden. Spent too much time watching visitors trying to get the large koi in the pond by the aquarium to nibble at their fingers. 

The Belle Isle Aquarium had just closed by the time I got to its entrance. I saw people coming out of another door on the side, so I thought I'd sneak a peek. It's the oldest public aquarium in the country still running, built in 1904, covered in green glass on the inside for that underwater feel.

"Can I help you?" a woman staffing the exit pointedly says.

Uh, I just wondered, maybe I could get a photo of the inside? Tell people I was here?

She offers to take my photo, "to show people you were here."

That weekend I also visited the Eastern Market, Detroit’s old thriving farmers market, where I bought from an urban art dealer an original "Don't Let The City Eat You!" sticker for my bike. Went to Third Man Records where I tried to prove I was hipper than the staff by asking if they had what should be a Detroit classic, The Dirtbombs' "Party Store" on vinyl. They did not, and I managed to hold back my aging hipster judgment.

Mark WedelLooking up from inside the lobby of the Book Tower.Pedaled north to see the Fisher Building, and south to see the Book Tower, two old skyscrapers that are evidence of a time when the city was flooding with money. Like Michigan Central, they were built as temples to a new century. The Book was the tallest skyscraper in the city when it was built in 1916, 38 stories of Italian Renaissance style. The Fisher is only 30 stories, but is festooned with 1920s Art Deco touches.

Both have lobbies that made me feel amazed, but also small and poor. 

I remedied this by having the concierge at the Book forward my name to Kamper's Rooftop Bar, unlock the elevator for me, and send me to the 13th floor. 

I had a tapas plate of shrimp and mid-shelf rye, which was better than the coney dog lunch the day before. Enjoyed the view from the bar’s outdoor patio as classic hip-hop played. Looked at my phone and saw that President Biden had dropped out of the race; right, the world is still happening somewhere out there. Told the wait staff I was a travel writer, writing about seeing Detroit on a bicycle, if you could believe that.

Mark WedelRye and a tapas plate of shrimp for a "bougie" lunch at Kamper's Rooftop Bar in the Book Tower.I worried about my bike, chained to a parking sign a few hundred feet below. Realized I was being a bit bougie. Decided I needed to see more of the real Detroit.


Detroit bike clubs marauding at midnight 

Sunday evening I stopped to watch a bit of Transglobal Underground, a freaky English hip hop/electro/world music group, playing for free outside the DIA as part of Don Was's Concert of Colors festival. 

I couldn't stop for long, though. I was headed north to meet up with the Midnight Marauders, a biker group I was going to ride with.

That morning, I met with Megan Powers, a resident of the El Moore. She rides a single-speed green bike. "It's a perfect road bike for Detroit, because of the lack of hills," she says.

Mark WedelEl Moore residents gather in the building's community parlor. Andy Ross and Megan Powers talk about bikes with the author."I ride a bike because that's my happy place," she says. Powers rides more than drives in the city. 

Andy Ross, joining the conversation in the community parlor, mentions that he biked when living in Chicago a few years ago, but hasn't biked much since moving back to his hometown of Detroit.

"I did a lot of riding in Chicago, but the situation for me was, like, I had 100 near-misses," Ross says. "Sometimes it's not a miss, it's a hit."

Chicago is a population-dense city, with politically active biking advocates who've been demanding safer biking infrastructure, he says.

Detroit riders seem to have a more relaxed, but determined, attitude. 

They're organized, but make their presence known with rolling parties, fast-paced rides and slow-rolls.

"What I love about riding in Detroit is there's so many bike groups," Powers says. "Every night you can go to a different place and there's a bike group you can join and ride."

One of the reasons I wanted to take my bike to Detroit was the Detroit Slow Roll. I'd seen the videos of huge groups of people, some on wildly tricked-out rides, some on basic bikes, simply riding and having a blast. 

Mark WedelDetroit is covered in public art. The best way to see it is slowly, on a bicycle. These are my people, I was sure.

The weekly Slow Roll rides had become public parades, that had to have police escorts. 

Then Slow Roll seemed to vanish after 2020, another victim of the pandemic. 

Powers reveals that Slow Roll is back. The original organizer Jason Hall has bowed to demand and is doing Thursday night rides. 
 
"And I think they've been up to 500 people, but they're not going to have the police like they had before," Powers says. In its prime, Slow Roll was "a huge production. Now it's very stripped down."

A great thing about the city's clubs is that they are all very welcoming, she says. Detroit riders are part of an inclusive and united community. If anyone is hurt, has a flat, or has their bike stolen, the word goes out and riders get help from other riders, Powers says. "It's really like a family. It's kind of amazing."

I mentioned that I had contacted the Midnight Marauders BC on Facebook, and asked to join their full moon ride, happening that night.

"Oh, yes, ooooo!" Powers exclaims. It'll be great, I’ll love it, she tells me, but the event may be "a little out there." They're "one of the more edgy" of the bike clubs, she warns.

Mark WedelThe view on Ze Mound, a hill of wildflowers on the Detroit RiverWalk.Really? Okay, their emblem of an evil skull with bike pedals for a mouth, Detroit area code of 313 for teeth, maybe a bit intimidating. Photos I'd found showed many riders in sleeveless vests adorned with patches, in the style of a motorbike gang. 

The ride starts sometime before 11 p.m. and goes well beyond midnight. Instead of a planned route, riders are to follow wherever the leader goes. 

I'm sure it'll be fine.

The Marauders are included on this list of groups and rides anyone is welcome to join. Surely this will be a safe ride.


"You don't.... see me right here, dog?"

Later that night, I rolled towards the core group meeting on Trumbull by the Lincoln Street Art Park. It was dark, they were outside of the few street lights, under a cloud of smoke, looking concerned and angry about something.

I overheard that a driver hit one of their riders that day. BirdMan is his club name. He'd been sent to intensive care. They'd just found out.

Mark WedelMidnight Marauders BC gather for their full moon ride. A large part of Detroit bike culture is kept alive by many bike clubs of many styles.This seemed like a bad time to be the stranger from Kalamazoo hoping to join the ride. I introduce myself and let them know I'm a nosy journalist. In spite of the situation, they welcomed me. 

Will the ride go on? I asked. Group leader Cokko gives the affirmative.

(Update: Cokko messaged the following week that BirdMan "was going to be ok." But his bike is "cashed.")

Detroit felt safe to me, but the city’s daily riders still face the dangers all riders face. That Saturday the local station WXYX reported that the owner of an Eastern Market clothing shop was the victim of a hit-and-run when riding to work. Joseph O'Grady rode with the Marauders, so he was on their mind, too.

Mark WedelMidnight Marauders BC gather for their full moon ride. A large part of Detroit bike culture is kept alive by many bike clubs of many styles. "It's like they don't f---in' see us!" Marauder Reo Ramsey says about drivers. "Sometimes you gotta look at them dead in the eye, like, 'You don't f---in' see me right here, dog?'"

Another rider, Eric Gates, tells me, "Safety, that's something that's a huge issue. Drivers could be more safe, but just are not," he says.

"You have these large bike groups that are riding through our community," but still, bikers seem to be invisible to drivers. "They treat motorbikes the same way," Gates says.

Ramsey says he’s a founder of the Marauders and is also the head of Motown Trailblazers. They host rides on Sundays to Black-owned restaurants. "Ride a bit, eat a bit."

I feel safer in Detroit than in my hometown of Kalamazoo, I tell him.

"I would be afraid of Kalamazoo," Ramsey says. "Racism. Potential racism."

Detroit is "primarily a black city," he says. But it's a different story when they ride past 8 Mile.

Ramsey says various bike groups join to do an annual unity ride, and attempted to do one to Royal Oak recently.

In Detroit, restaurants are happy to see a large group of hungry bicyclists bringing in business, "It don't matter what we look like," he says. 

But when the unity ride reached Royal Oak, "The Royal Oak police, racist asses, run us off."

Detroit police seem to have a tolerance for the bike groups. Police will help with traffic control for large rides, but otherwise, group members will do traffic control, blocking traffic to allow riders to roll through intersections.

But on one ride in Detroit’s Greektown, when a Taylor Swift concert was happening nearby and the area was crowded, an officer confronted Ramsey.

Mark WedelRider representing the Beautiful Babes on Bikes club. "I thought he was about to help" control traffic for the riders. But the officer demanded ID, words were exchanged, backup was called, and Ramsey "got to be in the jail that night."

Some of the stresses of riding for Ramsey, and most of the other riders that night, were not my stresses, I admit, because of race.

I'm the naive visitor from Kalamazoo, I have to admit, again. Again, I ask, is bike tourism a thing in Detroit?

Cokko responds,"The best way to see any place is on bikes." 

Mike Sprinkley, club name Crow, points out that there are bikeshare stations all over, more greenways, the RiverWalk — "We have some of the best spots."

Some of the effort the city is putting into promoting biking and creating infrastructure is motivated by a growing Detroit biking culture. 

Mark WedelEric Gates' DJ trikeCrow says, "We bring enough people here, if there's a festival or something for bikes and bicycles here in the city of Detroit, the government will work with us and help us out." 

Cokko says, "The police are still pretty involved in Detroit, because if they see a ride coming through, they'll stop traffic, and stuff like that."

In spite of what outsiders might fear, the Marauders welcome everyone to ride.That's evident as women, older riders, white, Black, e-bikes, regular bikes, and tricked-out rods roll up as we talk. At under 20 riders, it wasn't a large group, probably because it was on a Sunday night/Monday morning. But that was when the July full moon was happening, so that's the night for the Moonlight ride.

"We give people a tour of Detroit that you just don't see on a big group ride or on a daytime ride," Crow says. "It's always safe. And everybody comes out and they always have a good time, because you see a side of Detroit that you don't normally see from driving in a car.”

Another member jumps into the interview, to "keep it real," he says.

This member's real opinion is, "Bro, this sh– fun as hell. We come out here and have fun. We ride bikes. We live our life. That's what I want. We ain't coming out here trying to be extra. We ain't doing no bullsh–. We ain't doing none of that, bro."


So, we ride.

A whistle is blown, Cokko and Crow shout, "Let's roll!"

Gates turns up the big speaker on his DJ trike, playing Detroit house, techno, hip-hop, old-school funk, whatever. Rhythms match the roll, medium-tempo and relentless, steady and electric.

We look electric. Lights are on — standard bike lights, safety lights, helmets with embedded LEDs, lights on wheels, and lit-up safety batons, all flashing and multicolored. We will be seen by drivers.

Mark WedelHandlebar view of the Marauders' ride.We roll by the Motown Museum. A rider points it out, lets me know that Aretha Franklin lived in a house we pass, and chats proudly about the Joe Louis Greenway that'll link all the neighborhoods.

North LaSalle, Virginia Park, Wayne State, Midtown, down to the Detroit River. We pass through neighborhoods, people give rowdy cheers to us from balconies, we ring our bells.

There were a few breaks. I chat with the women of the ride on one, and ask about the impression that bike clubs are all dudes.

"It's not! It absolutely is not!" one exclaims. "There's always been a lot of women in the bike life."

Another, in her Beautiful Babes on Bikes vest (another club, one of the female-identifying riders), says, "I cooked dinner for my boyfriend, and I said, 'Um, I'm on my way out for a ride tonight.' He was like, (uptight voice) 'You're going for a ride?' I'm like, 'Yeah, I'm going for a ride. I'll be back. You're welcome to stay. But you're welcome to leave. I'll see you in a little bit.'"

We roll again. Cokko takes us on a little DTE obstacle course, on the power company campus' circular walkways, getting us sprayed by the sprinkler system. 

"Bike down!' someone shouts from behind. Everyone stops. Someone had slipped and wiped out, but they were okay. The Marauders were not going to leave a rider behind. 

A couple of times Crow asks me, "You okay?"  

I'm doing great, I tell him. This is beautiful.

Crow and other members are focused on group safety. They ride back and forth from the front and rear of the little bike parade, warning of approaching cars with a "Car back!" Blowing whistles and pointing at potholes and glass. Parking themselves at intersections to block traffic.

But traffic was mostly non-existent around midnight, except for downtown nightlife areas, where our bikes were inches from shiny sports cars and black-windowed SUVs, clubbers, and bar hoppers looking at our traveling display as if we'd landed from another planet. 

Gates switches from ultra-obscure (outside of Detroit, anyway) house and techno, and plays something that makes the group burst out laughing, the bouncy theme to the sitcom "What's Happening." 

Down to the River, where we stop again to rest, stare over the water, and speculate on Marauder rides into Canada when the Gordie Howe Bridge opens next year. 

Then up the Dequindre Cut, over to Tigers Stadium and the Fox Theatre. Back north, past the El Moore — I could stop there and call it a night, but don't want to.

Mark WedelMidnight Marauders rest stop on the river.We go through a dark and dirty, graffitied underpass, kicking up dust. Then cement barriers block the path. We're all able to squeeze through a gap, but a team of riders has to lift Gate's DJ trike over.

Where are we going? It was around 1:30 am, we were almost on mile 20, it looks deserted and scary here...

Oh, we were back at the Lincoln Art Park. 

I pedaled alone back to my room, feeling pretty ecstatic at doing a ride I'd never imagined I'd do.

And that's what bike tourism in Detroit is like. Your trip may be different. 

Editor's Note: Check out this VIDEO of Mark's moonlit ride.


P.S.: Heidelberg

I maybe had three hours of sleep after the Marauders' moonlight ride. The train taking me back to Kalamazoo was to leave early that Monday evening, so I had more riding to do.

Spacy from a lack of sleep, I headed to the Heidelberg Project. In 1986, Tyree Guyton, a former Ford and Chrysler worker, then firefighter, realized he was an artist. He began transforming the neighborhood and the house he grew up in on Heidelberg Street. 

Mark WedelGratiot Avenue, stretches from Pontiac to downtown Detroit. Many lanes, very wide, difficult to cross on foot or bike, not recommended as a bike route. It slashes through the McDougall-Hunt neighborhood, home of the Heidelberg Project.I need to see this on a bike. I pedaled east, through vacant lots, across the very wide Gratiot Avenue, otherwise known as State Highway Route 3 that stretches all the way to Port Huron. 

Mark WedelScenes from the Heidelberg ProjectI find the street. Heidelberg becomes a street covered with dots. Paintings of clock faces, messages of time's passing, "The Time Is Now," "It's The End of Time," "Time Is A Tool Use It!!" are on the trees. Old TVs are lined up along the sidewalk, screens painted with "No News," "White News," and "Black News." A computer monitor painted with "A.I. News" shows that the artist has been continuing to create.

I greet a guy taking out a trash bin in front of a house covered in dots. Realize it's the artist, Guyton.

Mark WedelTyree Guthree, artist of the Heidelberg ProjectI was meant to be here, he tells me, and I was meant to be here on a bike. Guyton starts philosophizing, talking about time and Plato and Yahweh.

"The world is bigger than you. It's bigger than all of us," he says. "You see all the clocks? Plato says that time is the moving image of all our reality. So I created my own reality... I would say to the world, you have to find your reality in time."

I tell him I was trying to find my reality, on a bike. Sometimes it's like I'm finding a new reality that I've never known.

Guyton points to a tree stump that he's hung with a massive amount of old bikes. "I love bikes... because bikes have a way of taking us where we need to go. I love riding them, I love the wind, and love riding my bike at night, and I love the stars up in the sky — and just the other day we had a full moon! I said, 'Look at the full moon!'...  It's beautiful, beautiful, beautiful to be alive and to be able to ride my bike."

Mark WedelTyree Guyton, artist of the Heidelberg ProjectI tell him I'd just been on a night ride, under the moon, with people I didn't even know. 

Some cars pass through, and people look at the art and wave to Guyton, but they don't park to get out, to look at what he's done.

One car stops and a large family gets out. They're from Reading, Pennsylvania. Heidelberg was a Detroit stop they'd planned to make.

Mark WedelScenes from the Heidelberg Project"You were meant to be here," Guyton tells them. He then exclaims, "This is what I'm talking about! Look at his hat!"

The elder of the family is wearing a baseball cap with "YHWH" printed on it. 

And that's what bike tourism in Detroit is like. Your trip may be different.