Guillermo Manzo parks his 1984 Chevy Van on Glenoaks Blvd, next to Hansen Dam golf course everyday. The thing that is different about Mazo's van is, it is covered with over 100 bicycles. In reality, Manso does not drive the van anymore because he feels that it probably is not safe. Manzo began covering the van with bikes 3 years ago, and continues to add to his collection whenever he finds a suitable set of wheels.
The overburdened 1984 Chevy van has become a fixture of sorts on Glenoaks Boulevard near Hansen Dam Municipal Golf Course - a quirky roadside attraction that has drawn curious gawkers and finger-pointing, along with a few snickers. The van is laden with old bicycles - dozens, perhaps up to 100 - covering the sides and top, strapped on and tied down with rope and string.
The van's owner, Guillermo Manzo of Pacoima, moves it around a few feet every day in a sometimes-successful bid to avoid parking tickets, but other than that it is virtually a permanent sight around the course.
"Someone called him the Bicycle King," said golfer Lloyd Carll of Los Angeles, who, like a lot of passers-by, found Manzo's bicycle-laden van a curiosity. "All those bikes on his van - I've seen modern art not half as interesting."
Rusted bikes. Busted bikes. Bikes with missing chains. Their condition doesn't matter to Manzo, 54, who says he collects and repairs the broken bicycles as a form of therapy for a broken life. "These bicycles have been discarded and unwanted," Manzo said, speaking in Spanish. "I fix them and make them work. And in that way, I make my life work."
Years ago, according to relatives, Manzo emigrated to Southern California from the Mexican state of Michoacan. He married, worked steadily and fathered four grown children. Manzo doesn't like talking about what happened next, except that a series of setbacks triggered a downward spiral - and began his bicycle collection.
"He's had some bad luck, losing his job (at a foundry) and being kicked out of his home by his wife when he was no longer bringing in a paycheck," said a niece who identified herself as Maria Tejas.
She and her husband took her uncle into their Sun Valley home, she said. "We've given him a bedroom and a room over his head at night," Tejas said. "But he leaves real early each morning. He takes off to look for odd jobs or to salvage some bicycles - anything he can to make a few dollars and help him pay for his food."
Manzo said he scours trash bins and alleys for discarded bicycles - or sometimes buys a bike for a few dollars from a thrift shop. He then returns to his van where he piles them on top of his other bicycles.
The van is almost always parked somewhere near the golf course because he finds it safe - and because it is mechanically undriveable beyond a few feet.
"I move it every day just to keep from getting parking tickets," he said. Sometimes, he said, he returns to find a bicycle or two gone, but for the most part he hasn't had much trouble. "Who would want to steal these bicycles?" he asked. "I leave people alone, and people leave me alone."
Manzo wants it that way. He even doesn't care much about selling the bicycles he repairs, as if seeing them in operating condition alone is an affirmation of his own being. "These bicycles help keep me sane," he said. "When I'm working on them, everything is so peaceful. Fixing them gives me tranquility. "Each bicycle I fix is like a little miracle in my life."
by Tony Castro, staff writer for Daily News
original posted: 02/10/2010. See the original article for more photos.
