It's relatively simple to eulogize people who were well-loved, or even just generally liked, and who never really did much out of the ordinary in their lives. Longtime Chicago cycling advocate Arthur Travis Duffey, known as "Flip Bike Travis," was not such a person.
After living with cancer for many years, he died at age 54 last August in San Diego, where he had been staying with his mother Mary Duffey. She brought the sad news of his passing to Chicago's advocacy community earlier this month, when she visited our city to attend to some of his things. This included donating several of his cycles, including the flip bike, to West Town Bikes, the nonprofit shop and education center in the Humboldt Park neighborhood. Travis volunteered and worked on his bicycles there for many years.
Often wearing his handmade fringed silver Mylar jacket and spiky helmet, Travis defied gravity and common sense by doing somersaults on his handmade "chopped" bike for tips, generally five bucks per roll. He was most often spotted at the bustling, six-way intersection of North, Damen, and Milwaukee avenues in the Wicker Park neighborhood.
Duffey had tricked out a 16" wheeled dirt bike with a third "wheel" made of steel pipe casing, bent into a halo overhead, attached to a fender on each end. This allowed him, after pedaling up enough speed and then bucking himself forward, to roll nose over tail, landing back on his bike wheels. He would do several rolls in a row, much to the delight of Wicker Park restaurant, bar, and club patrons, who would often ask for more and provide a contribution.
Travis' street busker act required the literal street, and a somewhat big stretch of non-auto space on the asphalt. By seeking to perform for people outside of cars, he was almost always competing with drivers for that space, except during the wee hours when traffic dwindled after most revelers headed home. That was when a break of five or so car lengths might open up. Travis would look both ways, judge how much time he might have before the next batch of vehicles, and then pick up speed.
If people asked for more, he would engage them in a sometimes lengthy haggling process, in which he might offer to do a certain number of flips for a set number of dollars. If the spectators balked, or said they didn’t have any money, but asked if he could please just do one or two flips, it could lead to an altercation.
A week ago, word of Travis' passing was broadcast on Chicago's Critical Mass Forecast Crew Facebook page, used for proposing routes for the parade/protest/party he often took part in. That post has been shared more than 160 times since then, a testament to how well known he was in the bike community. Many commenters chimed in with memories of him from CCM and other underground Chicago cycling happenings, such as Rat Patrol chopper bike gang gatherings, and unsanctioned "alleycat" racing.
Most of the reminiscences were positive, focusing on friendships and Travis' impressive flip bike and tall bike talents. Others were critical, discussing the more abrasive aspects of his personality.
In talking with those who knew, loved, or disliked Travis, poet Walt Whitman's phrase "I contain multitudes" comes to mind. The flip biker's life story also exemplifies how people who color outside the lines help keep the Windy City interesting.
"He was one of the great Chicago cryptids," posted Chris Castelan in another online group chat, using the term for legendary beings. Castelan compared Travis to "Tamale Guy" Claudio Velez, Cubs superfan Ronnie "Woo Woo" Wickers, and Samuel Chambers, the controversial "State Street Preacher".
Many who knew Travis longterm remembered him as funny, warm and kind. But he also faced physical and mental health challenges in recent years, and had trouble accessing healthcare and housing. These difficulties may have contributed to a sometimes-confrontational mindset, including run-ins with flip bike spectators he felt were being disrespectful.
Travis' mother Mary told Streetsblog about his childhood and youth. He was born in Los Angeles in 1970, and his family later moved to San Diego. She described Travis as a very smart and artistic kid, who easily took to things he was interested in. At seven, he asked for a unicycle for Christmas, which he taught himself to ride. "After that, bikes were it," Mary said.
In high school, Travis' artwork won a prize from the Rhode Island School of Design. He briefly studied architecture at LA's University of Southern California, before transferring to the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. There he studied, among other things, kinetic sculpture, foreshadowing his future.
West Town Bikes Executive Director Alex Wilson shared some of the backstory of Travis' flip bike, which he made at the shop. He had been chopping bikes for a few years and often rode his triple-decker tall bike with the Rat Patrol. Wilson said that in the mid-to-late 2000s, Travis and another member of the crew known as Johnny Payphone had "kind of an unspoken rivalry to see who could build the freakiest of the freak bikes."
Payphone told Streetsblog he gave Travis the idea to build the flip bike. Payphone first encountered one of the gadgets on a visit to Minneapolis, where he rode in a May Day parade with other chopper bike builders. He said he witnessed the flip bike rider become seriously ill after a full day of somersaulting, suffering a concussion and vomiting. "This made a huge impression on me and is why I never made a flip bike."
According to Payphone, after he told Travis about the flip bike, Travis asked him to help him build one. Payphone said he refused because the Twin Cities experience convinced him that flip biking is unsafe for the human body. He theorized that some of Duffey’s behaviors in recent years may have been consistent with traumatic brain injury.
When asked about this theory, Mary Duffey said she does not believe it's accurate.
A video of Travis doing flips in Wicker Park on March 2, 2013.
Amy Madden, a fellow bike rider and artist, also got to know Travis at West Town when he taught a class on how to ride tall bikes. Although Madden said she never got the hang of it, she and Duffey struck up a friendship, and later an on-again / off-again romantic relationship. She said she last saw him about a decade ago.
In a Facebook tribute, Madden said Travis was "very colorful, creative, fascinating and slightly feral." She added that she "found him irresistible and also impossible.”
In line with the punk rock ethos of the Rat Patrol, Travis came up with side hustles to survive without getting a full-time job. At times he worked in computer hardware and networking. He also sold jewelry he made from bike inner tubes. I owned some of his earrings and bracelets, about which I received many questions and compliments.
Around age 40, Travis, a longtime smoker, was diagnosed with a slow-growing form of bladder cancer, for which he underwent surgery. During the COVID-19 pandemic, closed entertainment venues took away his busking audience. Short on money, and with his health failing, he returned to San Diego to stay with his mother until he died last August.
"You definitely never knew which Travis D. you were going to get (funny, happy Travis or Extra Spicy Travis! It was up to fate!)" Madden commented on Facebook. "But some of my best bike adventures of all were hanging out with Travis. He was so weird, smart and grumpy. I am so sad to hear he’s gone.”
We hope Travis has flipped into a better, peaceful, but suitably weird and interesting place.
You can check out more photos and videos of Travis Duffey with his flip bike on the Flip Bike Travis Facebook page.
Thanks to Streetsblog Chicago contributor Sharon Hoyer for additional editing assistance. - John Greenfield, editor
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