From Behind the Lens
April, 2007
By Colleen Swartz
Cycle Source is turning 10 years old this month. I am the newest member of the Cycle Source staff and as such, I really didn’t feel qualified to talk at all about the 10th anniversary as I am just celebrating my 7th month with the mag. I did, however, have an incredible chance to meet in person a good chunk of the Cycle Source staff in Cincinnati at the V-Twin expo and then I followed them back to Pittsburgh to meet the rest of the crew that could make it out on a cold Tuesday night to have pizza together.
I had much the same exposure to everyone that you, as readers, do. I read their pieces and loved getting a taste of their personalities but nothing prepared me for the real deal. These guys (and girls) are thick as thieves. They work together, play together, give each other a hard time and have abandoned hand shakes for genuine hugs.
We stayed up until 4AM talking and I got to hear, first hand, the stories of the magazine and where it came from and why. It would take away a lot of the mystery to lay it out word-for-word, but I wrote this little piece for our editor, Chris Callen, as he struggled to stay awake on this last deadline. He seemed to like it, because he asked to run it at this month’s Behind the Lens. I hope you take away from it feel for the passion and commitment that this team has to the lifestyle that you and I have embraced and that you remember to log on to your computer and send Chris that little note that says you read it, liked it, didn’t like it, have a suggestion or want more information. It is something that gets him, and all of us, charged up to bring more of a good thing to the people we do it for.
This is for my buddy, Chris and for all of those other magazine editors out there and for the common guy who is forced to live 30 days at a time.
We were just a band of brothers living in the streets, the bars, the clubs of Pittsburgh.
We spent our time escaping something, anything, everything.
We ran fast and hard but like the wobbly-legged colts we were, we had no direction.
We just kept running trying to be faster than our demons.
We sang without pitch, we spoke without words, we drew without form.
Our role models came from outside of our circles and inside of ourselves.
We rode our bikes and raised some hell
We were unstoppable, infallible, without recourse and above the law.
We had fun and we were free until in an instant we didn’t and weren’t.
Some of us didn’t make it and some of us came close to not making it.
But we all ended up together when the dust settled.
We decided it would be cool to start a magazine, live a dream, be a star.
We hauled bundles of blood, sweat and tears to little dives and bike shops
In our saddlebags and a VW Bus that never ran.
In between we failed miserably at relationships and organization,
at eating well and sleeping at all.
And our lives changed forever.
No longer were the days of holding up 2 fingers, and then 3 and then 4 to mark time.
We no longer had school years and summer breaks, ski season and beach season,
We lost track of what days we went to work and what days we went out drinking.
It all became the same, Monday from Saturday, Wednesday morning from Friday night.
We were now living life 30 days at a time.
The mortgage on the 1st, the car on the 15th, the bike on the 25th,
Gas on the 10th, The phone on the 20th, the cable when the credit card had room.
The publisher on the 8th, the distribution company on the 12th, salary when someone paid.
Features due on the 18th, Ads on the 10th
(Although we would take them anytime one was offered)
Editorial on the 20th and cartoons on the 21st.
Caffeine and Nicotine saw us through a lot, our friends got us the rest of the way there.
We started doing a lot less screwing and started getting screwed a lot more.
Some relationships faded and others grew stronger.
The growing pains were excruciating, not everyone made it
But the cream rose to the top and those not able to live 30 days at a time
They are still friends who know enough when to stay away
And when to arrive with coffee and a pack of straights.
We put one to bed and take a deep breath that lasts 3 days
And then it is time again to keep one eye on the clock
And the other on the calendar. Living 30 days at a time.
We learn to do 40 hours of work in 20
We start in the early morning and end in the early morning
We write in our sleep and dream the dream of long ago.
Of how cool it would be to have a magazine.
And the dream never ends because it is our reality.
It is everything we wanted, everything we hoped for
It is our bread and our butter, our ying and our yang
It is the highest high and the lowest low and everything in between.
It has become our direction, our journey and our destination.
And it is filled with irony and profound coincidence.
Just when it is the worst and we don’t think we can go on
Someone writes us an email or makes a phone call and says,
“Right on man!”, “I love what you did”, “Thanks for taking me there!”
And the clock miraculously slows and we accomplish the impossible
And we complete the task and we are proud of it
Because we realize it means something to someone else besides just us.
The world gets smaller and for an instant we are connected to every single person
Who has ever read it or looked at it or agreed with it or disagreed with it.
For anyone who felt pride in it and showed it to their friends and neighbors
For everyone who bought extra copies and sent them to their Mom.
And every time someone sends us an email it is like opening a Christmas present
Full of promise and hope and affirmation and joy.
We ride it to the ends of the earth, we no longer think in terms of places and events
But in stories and ideas, in layouts and photos, in color and words.
We go great places, do great things and we are in the middle of it
Unable to be a spectator at a spectator’s event any longer.
We meet incredible people who share the dream and also live
30 days at a time.
They tell us they understand and they do, and they are the only ones.
Our wives and husbands, girlfriends and boyfriends don’t unless the jump onboard
They will never know and they can never know.
But it’s not their fault.
It is our dream and we are living it every day, every single day
Of the 30 that we have left until we have to do it all again.
And that is how I see Cycle Source Magazine, from behind the lens.
Your questions, comments, and story ideas are always welcomed at Colleen@digitalmagicbigshots. You can view more of Colleen’s work at www.digitalmagibigshots.com.
