They don’t have an office.

They don’t have an LLC.

However, like an aspiring band still learning its instruments, they already have a name: Knife’s
Edge Vintage & Custom Bicycles. And, of course, they have the digital equivalent of a business
card (a MySpace page) and a business report (a blogspot).

By day, Mark Brocklehurst, 30, works at a nursery. Jerry Atwood, 32, works at a Starbucks (and
makes clothes on the side). And Andrew “Hutch” Hutchison, 34, is “just a self-employed painter,
handyman, sort of, whatever-slash-photographer.”

But this motley crew has spent its free time this year coming together to form a company of
sorts, buying up scorned old bicycles throughout Indy, and then refurbishing, refinishing and
re-assembling the bits and pieces into rolling works of art. And if these guys ever become a
far-from-burly Indy version of the “American Choppers” cast, it’s safe to say Hutch will be the
Mikey of the three.

On this recent Sunday, as the guys gather in front of a house in the Butler-Tarkington
neighborhood, ready to explain their fledgling venture, Hutch shows up late, sporting ratty blond
hair under a trucker hat turned backwards. When he rides, he apologizes for his ass crack
showing. And while the other two chat about design philosophy, he sits on a tricycle, vacantly
sipping an iced coffee.

But all of the Knife’s Edge Vintage & Custom Bicycle crew are kids in their own way. They were
all childhood BMX bandits. When they became adults, that love morphed into an appreciation of the
West Coast muscle bike.

“One of my bikes has two-foot apehangers,” said Brocklehurst, a fan of high handlebars, “and it’s
like, this is dumb. This is totally stupid.”

##Really raw materials

A garage out back is where much of the action happens. The place is a veritable gold mine of
banana seats, cranks and sprockets.

There are greasy washers, casings, bearings and tube caps (both bullet- and dice-shaped), all
over the grimy floor.

There are frames of Shelbys and Columbias, of roadsters, tandems and trikes, of bikes from the
1930s through the 1970s, by AMF and Hawthorne and, of course, Schwinn.

There are muscle bikes, low riders and ratrods.

The term “ratrod” comes from hotrod culture. It describes a bicycle that might otherwise have
been discarded, reassembled with other bike parts into something more original. Atwood,
Brocklehurst and Hutch are dipping their toes in the process, hoping to make something of the
hobby.

“But it’s a matter of collectively, like, coming up with a vision of, like, what we want to do,”
said Atwood. “And also trying to make something that’s, like, unique enough that people would
actually want to pay for it.”

They’ve done repair and restoration work for friends — new bearings, new chains — mostly little
things that needed doing that their pals are unable to do.

“Most people say, ’I’m going to get this bike and fix it up,’ but most people don’t have the
drive or patience or skills to see it through,” Atwood said. “And if you take your bike to a bike
shop, they’re going to charge you an arm and a leg for minor repairs.”

##Perfection’s overrated

Sometimes the bikes they find are in need of nothing more than a cleaning. They don’t strive to
make them pristine. If it rolls, and it’s complete, that might be all it needs. On one bike, they
gave the rusty rims a coat of sealer for a nice oxidized orange patina.

They’re not about rechroming. They’re about new tires, new chains, lubricated joints and fancy
new tube caps. But they do enjoy the prospect of someday bending, welding and completely
reworking frames.

“We’re heading in that direction,” said Atwood. “I would love to find something that’s rusty and
tore up and in terrible shape and bring it back to life by putting my own stamp on it.”

They want to talk to people — clients — about color schemes and themes, then go with the flow.
Atwood recently customized one old bicycle with a Swiss Army theme in mind, painting it military
green, attaching a camouflage fabric seat and saddlebag hand-stitched from the khaki canvas of
an old Italian army jacket.

“For something that didn’t look anything like this, I’m pretty happy with where it is now,”
Atwood said, holding up the almost-done prototype. “This is definitely the one that we’re going
to try to turn around and sell.”

##Swooping in on remains

Whether people buy into their ratrods and restoration projects, the boys from Knife’s Edge will
keep buying bikes regardless. They’re like vultures.

“This summer is kinda when I went a little crazy,” Atwood said. “Like, I started buying bikes
whenever I’d see them.”

“A lot of it would just be that I was driving through the neighborhoods, seeing people throwing
them out,” Hutch added. “I was like, that’s a good bike, can’t let that go.”

There are more than enough bikes to go around, too. Atwood, Brocklehurst and Hutchison have about
a dozen each, and there are plenty more yet to be rescued from basements, attics, garages and
junk yards around the Midwest.

Schwinn, the dominant bicycle manufacturer of its day, was founded in Chicago before the turn of
the century. And Cleveland Welding Co., maker of the Roadmaster, followed in Ohio in the 1930s.

“If you really wanted to do it, we could go scour three or four counties close to Indy and come
back with 20 bikes, for a handful of cash,” said Brocklehurst, “because people just stick ’em in
their barns.”

“The old Sears bikes back then were, like, probably considered knock-offs,” Atwood said. “But
when you compare them to, like, say, a bike that you would get at Wal-Mart now, they look like
the most, like, finely crafted thing.”

##Still a few bugs

But the craftsmanship is where problems arise in this business plan.

Many of the cruisers fixed up by Knife’s Edge aren’t made to fit adults. You can end up sitting
kinda scrunched. You slide off the back of seats. Your thighs chafe. It’s a struggle to pedal
uphill. Struggle to pedal out of a yard.

Hutch, for instance, let out a guttural grunt as he got moving on a recent Sunday ride.

“Pinch it off, buddy,” said Brocklehurst, laughing. “Well, that’s what it sounds like!”

Still, the group manages to get out and ride a lot. Pretty much every other day. Downtown, and
along the Canal into Broad Ripple. They meet at spots on the Monon.

“But you can’t go too far on these things.” Hutch said. “Just because they look cool doesn’t mean
they’re comfortable.”

“They’re kinda hard to ride,” Brocklehurst added. “They’re not super-quick. And you get into
hairier spots than you want. And I either pedal too hard, or I do dumb stuff on bikes that you
can’t do dumb stuff on.” Not a moment later, on a spin through the Butler campus, Brocklehurst
ended up separating the chain from his bike while pedaling through a grove.

But there are great moments, too, like the long run the group made down the winding hill into the
botanical gardens by Holcomb Observatory.

Five kids flew past them on BMX bikes, flanked by a woman on a 10-speed road bike and a man on an
expensive-looking mountain bike. And all of them took a second look at the badass bikes under the
bums of the Knife’s Edge boys.

Although riding vintage bikes isn’t exactly mainstream right now, the guys have started seeing
other people riding them. Hipsters, too — not just the history buffs from the Hoosier Antique &
Classic Bicycle Club.

Maybe the cool factor will grow. Maybe it’ll be a viable business after all.

If not, Hutch said, no big deal.

Theirs is a pretty casual kinda crusade.

“When you catch these bikes on the side of the road on trash day, it’s like, it was almost gone,
until we got there,” he said. “The way I see it, we’re saving bikes from collecting rust or dust,
and that’s pretty cool.”

##Ratrod recon

If you fancy the idea of rollin’ ‘round town on your own vintage or custom bike, come out and
meet the Knife’s Edge Vintage & Custom Bicycles crew at the second annual Indieana Handicraft
Exchange, 6 to 9 p.m. Oct. 3 and 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. Oct. 4 at the Harrison Center for the Arts,
1505 N. Delaware St. Indy locals Mark Brocklehurst, Jerry Atwood and Andrew Hutchison have also
set up a blog to document their vintage restoration and ratrod alteration projects, at
knifesedgebikes.blogspot.com. For more information, visit www.myspace.com/knifesedgeratrods