Even technology has its limits. You can't fax a box of chocolates, for example. And no matter how many computerized doodads you have on your car, it's still hard to find a parking space on Main Street between South Temple and Third South in the middle of the day.
Sometimes the streets are so crowded, time is so short and life still so unflinchingly three-dimensional that if you want to get something from Point A to Point B, what you really need is a guy on a bike.A guy, for example, like Dennis Nazari. Nazari owns Pedal Express, one of two bicycle courier companies in Salt Lake City.
The beauty of bicycle delivery, says Scott Johnson of Bonded Bicycle Couriers, is that, in moderate to heavy traffic, a cyclist is twice as fast as a car. Plus, a cyclist can take shortcuts through alleys. And then there's the considerable time saved not having to find a place to park. After all, notes Johnson, there are meter maids everywhere,"and they're ruthless." And then, also, there's the time saved not having to bother with keys, seat belts and doors.
"Getting in and out of a car is a surprisingly time-consuming activity," observes Johnson.
Both Pedal Express and Bonded Bicycle Couriers have been in business for five years. Between them, the two companies now have about 250 downtown clients.
Before Oct. 19, 1987, most of his clients were brokerage houses, says Nazari. But in the week following the stock market crash, Pedal Express suddenly found itself with 50 percent fewer customers. That's when Nazari started drumming up business among local lawyers, accountants, architects and ad agencies.
Today both Pedal Express and Bonded Bicycle Couriers will pedal across town to do court filings, serve summonses, get signatures on important documents, deliver medical specimens or anything else, as long as it's not too heavy or too big. The couriers are equipped with two-way radios to speed up the whole process.
Although fax machines have made inroads into their businesses, both Nazari and Johnson are happy to report that there are still plenty of items that can't be faxed - original documents needing signatures, ad copy that must be clear enough to be reproduced, Christmas chocolates - and that bike delivery is much cheaper than faxing.
But that doesn't always deter those who are awed by modern technology, notes Nazari, who says that there have been times when his clients have insisted on spending hundreds of dollars to fax documents across town - when they could have had those documents delivered by bicycle for $3.
Like Johnson, Nazari started the courier company so he could make a living and ride his bike at the same time. That combination of work and play is also what lures the eight other couriers on his staff. Some of the couriers - who ride about 20 miles a day on the job - use the work as a way to train for bike races.
Neither rain nor snow nor automobile drivers who hate cyclists keep the couriers from their appointed rounds, thanks to heavy-duty mountain bikes and a reliance on the tricks of defensive riding.
Nazari also makes sure his riders know the city's bike laws. Like automobile drivers, cyclists aren't allowed to ride on the sidewalk or go through red lights. Or speed - even though some of the couriers are so fast that they've gotten speeding tickets.
*****
(Additional information)
Cyclist peddles delivery idea to S.L. County
Phidias Cinaglia is not the kind of guy who likes to spin his wheels. And he doesn't like to see other cyclists wasting their time either.
"They're spending all that energy in the wind, and they're helping no one," says Cinaglia about local cyclists who have Olympic aspirations. "And then they have to work flipping hamburgers to make a living."
What would make more sense, says Cinaglia, general manager of the Utah Women's Cycling Association, would be to take all that cycling energy and use it to deliver things like Meals on Wheels and library books. The county could save money, he argues, and the cyclists could make money while they train.
Cinaglia presented his idea to Salt Lake County commissioners 18 months ago and got a generally interested response - but no money. He estimates he would need $5,000 to $10,000 to get the project going. The money would buy three "pedicabs" - three-wheeled covered bicycles that look sort of like all-weather rickshaws.
Cinaglia, a mechanical engineer whose wife is coach of the Utah Women's Cycling Association, estimates that Salt Lake County could save 65 percent of the current per-meal delivery cost by using bicycle-powered pedicabs instead of the conventional Meals on Wheels vans.
The cyclists' salaries, he adds, could be paid with "sponsorships" from local companies who could advertise on the pedicabs, just like they do on the sides and backs of UTA buses.
As things stand now, says Cinaglia, "Bicycle teams have to almost beg for money" because cycling as a sport is not appreciated in America.
In order to make it to a national team, he adds, a cyclist has to be strong, and in order to be strong the cyclist has to train nearly full time. But a cyclist who works full time at a normal job doesn't have time to train adequately. Pedicabs would provide on-the-job training, and at the same time the cyclist would be helping the community.
The county, concerned about the potential legal, safety and logistical issues of pedicab delivery, has put the idea on hold pending Cinaglia's formation of a non-profit corporation.
"We're in tight times and we're trying to stretch the budget," notes Salt Lake County Aging Services Associate Director Scott McBeth. "We're willing to consider innovative ideas." - Elaine Jarvik