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Chariots of fire
Noble bikers deliver the goods
by JOHNSON CUMMINS
Being a Torontonian and painfully lazy, you could imagine the tears of joy I wept when I discovered that along with sub-zero winds blowing through your bones, Montreal was also famous for it's depanneurs extending credit to its preferred clientele. And if that's not the bees knees, they would also deliver whatever you wanted right to your door. This glorious news had this transplanted Etobicoke boy pinching himself while pondering, "Could this frozen wonderland actually be Valhalla?"
Enjoying my new digs, me and my sloth-like roommates at the time quickly hatched a plan to avoid two weeks of January's wrath by not leaving the house. Thinking that free beer and free food (albeit temporary) delivered to your door was too good to be true, we initially assumed that this service was only good for invalids, shut-ins and convalescent homes. So we started to leave the exact change by the door and, from the safe environs of the bathroom, scream directions in our best Katharine Hepburn/Redd Foxx voice as to where to put the groceries. Once we heard the front door close we would pile out and feast on pizza pockets washed down with quarts of Laurentide and proclaim that life was indeed good.
As we gazed upon the outside world with our noses pressed against our cellophaned windows, we noticed that young able-bodied people all over our block were receiving groceries. Soon, our frequency in patronage got to be so much that we quickly dropped the Katharine-Hepburn-trapped-in-the-bathroom scam and actually considered just giving the delivery guy an extra key.
"We get all kinds of people who get groceries delivered to them," says bike deliverer and ambassador of good will Carlos Ferreira. Ferreira has parked his three wheeled iron-horse from his launching pad of Soares Grocery (130 Duluth) for seven winters now and has taken a secret oath to straddle his chariot through the Plateau's mean streets no matter what the weather conditions.
The bike he rides is a firey steed that has been through 25 years of sleet, snow and ice and whatever other elements the gods have thrown its way. It will easily go through another 25.
Up until five years ago these three- and two-wheel contraptions were manufactured here in Montreal by a company called Quilnot. The bikes had been made for close to 50 years, the peak being in the '70s, when 200 bikes would leave the shop annually. Not all bikes were destined to be deliverers of food and beverage though; only about one third were sold to depanneurs and grocery stores and the rest were for warehouse work. Alas, the company ceased production five years ago due to "a lack of demand." There were two models made for the purpose of grocery delivery; the three wheeled bike can carry over 300 lbs while the two wheeler will carry over 100 lbs. Breathtaking, ain't it?
We've all read the staple Penthouse letters where a lingerie-clad young woman offers sex in lieu of tip to the delivery boy, but when I ask if this has ever happened Ferreira turns crimson red and says in a thick Portuguese accent, "Well, if you don't have the tip you don't have to pay me anything." Aw c'mon, you can tell me who's given up the nookie tip. "Uhh, no, nothing like that, it's usually just one or two dollars... uh... once I got ten dollars." Would ya get a load of this kidder!
Despite being a mortal god to warm and hungry people all over the Plateau, Ferreira is quick to hide behind a cloke of normalcy and maintains that he's just a regular joe. "I don't know why you want to interview me. I mean, its just a job I'm doing until I graduate from plumbing school."
Although Ferreira's aw shucks attitude is endearing, I must extend my personal thanks. On behalf of all of those afraid to walk, Carlos, WE SALUTE YOU!
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