As we begin our 4th decade at Terry, we’re amazed at how much has changed. Many of you have been there with us for a huge part of our history. Here’s the first in a series of retrospectives about how things got rolling, in the words of our founder, Georgena Terry.
Who I am and Why We’re Here
Okay, let’s set the record straight. A lot of people say, “You started your business because you were short and you couldn’t find a bike that fit, right?” Wrong. Or, “You started your business to benefit maligned, frustrated women, right?” Wrong. I started my business to follow my intuition. No ulterior motives here at all. About 30 seconds after I popped out of the womb, a guardian angel landed on my shoulder and said, “Georgena, you’re a misfit and a maverick. Don’t even think about conforming. You simply can’t do it.” My nascent brain chewed on that for about a millisecond and then agreed, wholeheartedly.
With this precious bit of insight about my future in hand, I began my life’s journey. I dove headlong into whatever I wanted to do. Against my Dad’s wishes, I bought my first bicycle, a fire engine red, single speed Schwinn girl’s model. I rode that bike everywhere. It ignited a little fire in me that has burned with varying degrees of passion over the years. The freedom, the exhilaration, the independence, the solitude of cycling–just perfect for me.
By the time I started my fourth job in eight years, I knew I wasn’t long for the corporate world. It was just too hard to like somebody else’s project. I’m not a team player. Yeah, yeah–I know what the books say. Listen, the real secret in life is not to spend hours of time analyzing and trying to improve your weaknesses–it’s playing to your strengths and forgetting about your weaknesses.
Bicycling was continuing to call me. Not that I wanted to ride all the time; I just wanted to feel like I was riding. I have a degree in mechanical engineering. I have some imagination (heck, I had a control panel from the Enterprise’s bridge in my bedroom in 1956–it controlled every function in our house). What to do, what to do? I didn’t know. I just knew I had to know more about the bicycle. Not the components, the frame. The metallurgy, the construction, the flame that made it a reality.
When I was finishing my B.S. in Mechanical Engineering, our senior project was to build a vehicle. Each group was given a nice little two stroke engine and told to make something neat…efficient…totally cool. Some of us were cyclists, so we set about building the best of both worlds. I found the tubing and Ed supplied a torch, flux and rods. We worked out of the basement of an old house. On a hot September afternoon, I watched Ed brazing a joint. There was something very appealing about the glare of the torch on his face, the perspiration. And it wasn’t a romantic appeal either. Maybe it was because we were in Pittsburgh where the steel mills were still pumping and it was heady to be in the presence of all that awesome power. Midnight drives to the J&L mills to feel the blast furnaces were a popular diversion. Say what you will about pollution and the plight of the working man. The country was humming.
I wanted a piece of that. So when Ed took off his goggles, wiped his face and said, “wanna try it?” I grinned and had my first lesson in brazing. It was like looking at a nonsensical throb of hot color. I couldn’t tell base metal from rod, from flux. Everything swirling around. I must have done okay, because the joint held, but I didn’t know why and that intrigued me.
So two years later, I bid a very fond farewell to the corporate world, bought a torch and some rod, read up on the metallurgy of brazing, and had a friend teach me the basics of safe torch operation. And then, in my own basement, I began the process of learning to build bicycle frames. It was as confusing at the outset as it had been in Pittsburgh, but, bit by bit, the pieces fell into place. Soon, brazing was like a good bike ride. I just got into the ryythym of it and it seemed like I could will the silver to go anywhere.
Eventually the word got out and I found myself building for others. I noticed a lot of women coming to me with common complaints–aches and pains, no off the rack bikes available. The MBA part of my brain pushed past the engineer and screamed, “Wake up! Crunch the numbers. Let’s go! Your personal revolution is about to take off.”
All these little voices inside me. They eschew even the slightest suggestion that someone knows more about me than they know. They’re apolitical, selfish little fiends. They provide the fire, I chase down the flammables. These little pals are inside everyone. You just have to shut down the interference and listen. When all is said and done, it’s going to come down to you and them. I’m really glad I heard mine from the beginning.
Our sincere congratulations to Georgena for being one of five inductees into the US Bicycle Hall of Fame later this year. You can reach her through her custom bike building site, georgenaterry.com.
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