Meet Me in the Hills
It was 2019, mid-September, the last steam bath days of St. Louis heat stretched on like slobber strands dangling from a houndβs jowls.
One night I was admiring the Moonish street lamp outside my window when the phone rang. It was Jackson. He pitched a rendezvous. In ten days meet FBM, Profile, and some of the extended mΓ©nage in Colorado to hitch along for a leg of the 6th Maiden America tour for roughly 48 hours of riding in the Rockies. It was short notice and a short tripβa blink.
Street Lamp, surrogate for the Moon.
I extended my right arm and my elbow creaked like a door in an abandoned Victorian, as it had for months. The tendonitis reduced gripping my bars to a symbolic gesture, but it wasnβt a deal breaker. I might get in a few airs before the rusty hinge pulled off the door like viscera velcro. And prospecting for transition gold in the mountains with friends was worth it even if I couldnβt ride. I decided to cut work and booked the flight to Denver.
Other than the brushes on Bohrenβs Midnight Radio summer boiled off without a hiss, but Jacksonβs call promised fall wouldnβt evaporate the same way. So, before dawn on the equinox I slipped on my backpack and tugged my bike bag 6 blocks to catch the 5am Red Line to Lambert.
A few hours later Jackson grabbed me from the Denver airport and we were off to meet the others west of the city. When we pulled into the motel parking lot the renegade BMX nobility we were joining were starting to gather around the vans. It was mostly familiars.
Jackson and I were close friends from when I lived in Santa Cruz. I watched Garrett grow up ripping Ramp Riders in Saint Louis with his brothers, Zach and Adam. Steve Crandall became a friend after years of crossing paths on the road. Others: Stew, Dolecki, Seamus, Holladay I knew from prior FBM meet-ups and the typical currents of BMX life. The Leeper Bros, Jay from QBP, Vic from Circuit, Matt from Profile, and the bizarrely skilled Declan Murray were new to me andβ
βIβm so horny!β
Eric Holladay knew what he started and grinned behind black sunglasses as he strolled up to the van, un-buttoned short sleeve billowing, khaki shorts, slides, banana in hand.
βIβm horrnyyy,β replied a voice from the shadows of the van interior, Seamus I think.
βMan, Iβm so horny. Is anybody else horny?β asked Garrett.
Pockets of voices around the asphalt returned,
βIβm horny,β
βWhoooβs horny?β
βSooo horny.β
Then nothing.
This was a pack of coyotes.
The trip was two days, and thatβs being generous, but it felt like a week in the best way.
On the first day, I did manage a few carves at The Hook and a few airs at the Milliken park on the qwedge. That earned me six more months of frayed cable friction in my arms. So, I was sidelined right away but happy and shot tons of photos.
Me at Milliken, by Jackson Allen
Garrett Guilliams at Frisco.
None of us had a clue leading up to it, but this trip marked the conclusion of FBM operating as a handmade in the USA BMX bike company. Steve made the announcement while everyone was taking a break at Frisco. But, he also made clear this wasnβt the end of the road for friendships or road trips.
FBM was always more people than product anyway.
The roadβwe met there, we meet there, and if we see each other again, thatβs where itβll be.
(Edit:July 18, 2026)
Check out Steveβs new ventures:
Radshare - A not-for-profit getting kids on bikes and in helmets.
Drop In Coffee - Coffee that supports the Radshare cause.
Steveβs Youtube - Where heβs sharing footage old and new.
