Download issue as PDF - SLUG Magazine

PENTABIKE
By Gavin Hoffman
reigniforever666@gmail.com
“I’ve lied, bullshitted, exaggerated and fabricated some incredibly ridiculous stories
about the creation of the Pentabike design in order to lend some sort of dark credibility
to the question,” says Dave Strunk, a Denver,
Colorado resident and the focus of my interview,
“but the reality is that it started in about 1989 or
so when I was working in a book warehouse here
in Denver.” According to Strunk, the book warehouse
afforded him the luxury to begin seditiously,
if not somewhat subliminally, planting subversive
images, such as the good, old-fashioned pentagram,
in many popular book titles being shipped to what he refers to
as “religious propaganda stores across this great land.”
“Having cut my teeth in the first and second wave
punk rock movements of England and the
U.S., I naturally had a tendency to sway to
the left and to appreciate cynicism and
anything that caused people to pause
and question what is worth believing
in and what is not,” Strunk says. As
previously described, Strunk had
become accustomed to inserting
pentagrams into religious literature,
and as a result of this,
the first Pentabike design
was scribed into Strunk’s
messenger bag when he
left the book warehouse
and began working as a
bicycle courier in Denver.
It was in effect forgotten
about until years later,
when Strunk began spotting
the logo in various
places around Denver, at
which time he reclaimed
the design and noticed
it garnering a somewhat
cult following, both in Denver
and throughout the rest
of the country, showing up
everywhere from bike shops
to trash dumpsters and even
as tattoos without any help or
persuasion from Strunk himself.
“In reality,” he says, “the logo was
a modification of something that
was started to simply raise eyebrows
and rile up the middle-of-the-road
establishment, but it was never meant to
become an official logo or brand, as such.”
Strunk did not, however, create the design as
an indication of his support, interest, affiliation or
interaction with any specific groups, agendas, beliefs or
mantras. “I’ve always been sort of a devil’s advocate on most
anything you’d ever care to discuss,” he explains, “and the logo, while
stemming from some apparent icon that most people identify as being affiliated with a
‘satanic’ agenda, was simply a stupid little tag that was utilized by me during my years
as a courier here in Denver and happened to be noticed by a somewhat small and
subversive group of people.”
Having first gotten into cycling in the late 70s and early 80s, Strunk’s first experiences
were with BMX. “The late 80s brought the purchase of my first real ‘adult’ bike,”
Strunk says. “It came in the form of a totally shitty, secondhand mountain bike with
a six-speed Shimano groupo and an early Tru Temper frame. I called it the ‘Cheetah
Chrome Mother Fucker’ (anyone who understands this reference, you‘re a true punk),
and I rode it for miles and miles around Denver and the surrounding areas.” Strunk
got his first real road bike around this same time and logged plentiful miles, leading,
(8) SaltLakeUnderGround
inevitably, to his courier gig in Denver.
Can cause sickening episodes
of widespread devastation accompanied by
sensations of pleasurable excitement.
When asked about the fixie craze that seems
to be in full-effect nationwide, Strunk’s answer
is stunningly poignant. “I get it, but I don’t buy
into it,” he says. “It is pure and un-cluttered in
a world full of impurities and clutter, but like so
many other things, it has become a cliché.” He
continues, both posing a question and answering
it. “How many people can buy a Chrome messenger
bag, drink PBR, cut the legs off their Dickies work pants, get
full sleeve tattoos, listen to Kyuss, wear skinny jeans and ride a
fixie?” Way too many. On the other hand, I had a spiked
leather motorcycle jacket with a painted back panel,
chains and braces with combat boots, a spiked
belt, a flannel shirt around my waist and a
huge punk rock record collection. So really,
when you think about it, what’s the goddamn
difference?”
That being said, what Strunk does
like about the fixed scene is the
persistence of the D.I.Y. attitude.
“Family, culture, brotherhood
and the willingness to take it
to the streets no matter what
the middle aged guy in the
Benz thinks” are the things
Strunk finds positive about
the fixed scene. “This is a
real movement with real
inertia behind it, and I
support THAT all-thefucking
way for sure…
however, the only fixed
bike I’ve ever ridden is a
1890s James Starley highwheel
bike in the parking
lot of a bike shop where I
almost went over the bars,”
he says.
“Punk rock was the music of
my childhood, and although
I only listen to it every once in
a blue moon, I could never turn
away from it because of what a
huge part of my life I spent within the
fold,“ explains Strunk. Apparently, it’s
this punk rock ethos that has inspired
him, and helped allow his seemingly innocent
and simplistic design to blow up into
a legitimate underground phenomenon. As far as
Pentabike goods, Strunk has several things currently
available and more products on the horizon. “Pentabike
ebbs and flows as far as the mail-order side of things go, but
the development of more designs and products is constant,” Strunk
says. “Currently, we have a few items that are going through the final stages of R+D,
and will be rolling them out to the public in the next few months if not sooner.” Strunk
was schooled and trained as an Industrial Designer, so the future for Pentabike as a
business is going to focus on hard-good PRODUCTS rather than simply a clothing
line. The shirts and stickers and socks were devised as a vehicle to promote a
name-brand recognition, so according to Strunk, when the “real” shit is released, there
is a familiarity with the logo and the ethos of the Pentabike agenda. Keep an eye on
Pentabike, and contact Dave Strunk via the web to order Pentabike good—and don’t
eat the brown acid.
685pentabike.blogspot.com or hellsditch.org