On Easter Sunday, Hunky Jesus contestants flexed in Dolores Park, a not-so-clandestine 4/20 celebration sent contrails across the city and, on Potrero Hill, another beloved tradition rolled into its 23rd year: The Bring Your Own Big Wheel race.
The race, held at the real “Crookedest Street in the World,” Vermont Street, which between 20th and Kansas streets, attracted hundreds to to tap into two of life’s purest joys: Community and adrenaline.
Nine-year-old Sullivan Libby, a first-timer in a hockey mask and bunny ears, suited up minutes before the kids-only portion of the race began at 2 p.m. Hay bales snaked all along Vermont to soften any blows. A couple dozen young girls and boys on Big Wheels hit speeds of 20 mph down the hill, while the youngest ones, often with help from their parents, jogged alongside (or tethered to) the trikes.
Once the kid’s races wrapped and Libby had been handed a first-place ribbon, the adults readied themselves.
“This is my second year too … the whole fam made it,” said Nate Libby, the nine-year-old’s father. “Mom’s over by the hay bales, watching people eat it super hard.”
Asked if he was racing himself, he grinned. “Yep. This might be the first and last run for this Big Wheel. We’ll see how the axle holds up under my weight.”
The Bring Your Own Big Wheel event has remained sponsor-free since its inception. Organizer Frog Gilmore, dressed as Princess Leia — rubber wheels replacing the iconic hair buns — has been attending since 2004, when the race was held on Lombard Street.
Gilmore says organizing the event eventually took priority over riding. “You get older, you slow down. I let the kids take it from here,” she said.
And, while sponsor-free events aren’t rare in San Francisco, Bring Your Own Big Wheel still leans all the way in.
“No sponsors. No corporate branding. We just run on donations,” said Gilmore. “As long as the city keeps raising the cost of everything, we’ll keep scraping by. But we’ve managed, thanks to the amazing people who throw down here.”
This year’s costs totaled more than $12,000, covering everything from permits and porta-potties to EMTs, fencing, and nearly $4,000 worth of hay bales.
Thirteen-year veteran Bill Landers, dressed in an orange neon jumpsuit and motorcycle boots, said he keeps coming back for the first-timers. “It’s my gift to them. I’m just a 12-year-old in a 60-year-old body.”
As for courage? “You need some trust, and a little bit of leaving your senses behind.”
He looked around. “Oh my God, look at everybody here. If this isn’t the best event in the city for people having fun and being silly and sweet, show me another one.”
Super cool.
Hay bales?
Straw bales – dry stalks left over from the harvesting of wheat and other cereal crops – are generally much cheaper than hay. Softer too.
Might check that out for next time.