I was running behind and completely turned around, realizing Liberty Park was way larger than I remembered. My destination was somewhere near the eagle statue, where I was supposed to meet a group of guys on bikes, all sporting snapbacks. This was FOAD, a fixed-gear bicycle crew hailing from Salt Lake City, Utah. They describe themselves as simply “a crew of homies,” without any grand “aim or agenda” other than pure fun and a bit of “fuck shit up” attitude. Having heard whispers about FOAD from my own fixie-riding acquaintances, I decided it was time to see firsthand just how much “shit” they actually “fuck up.”
Before they were known as FOAD, they started as Team Terror. FOAD itself is a constantly evolving backronym, playfully standing for everything from Feed Our Adorable Dolphins to Fixies on Astro Dirt. Since 2007, this group of guys in their twenties has been pushing the boundaries of fixed-gear bikes, performing BMX-style tricks. Their website is a testament to their skills, packed with video clips of their stunts set to music from underground artists like Evil Nine, White Fence, and Project Pat – sounds you probably haven’t heard on mainstream radio.
For those unfamiliar, a fixed gear bike, often called a “fixie,” is essentially a track-racing bicycle. Think of the movie Premium Rush with Joseph Gordon-Levitt from 2012 – remember that high-energy bike flick almost nobody saw? Fixies are single-speed, stripped down to the essentials: no brakes, and crucially, no freewheel. That freewheel is the part on standard bikes that lets you coast; on a fixie, your pedals are always connected to the rear wheel’s movement.
FOAD bike crew members Sam Allgood, Jackson Bradshaw, Parker Thompson, and Izik and Evan Service pose with their fixie bikes at Liberty Park, showcasing urban fixed gear freestyle culture. When I finally located Sam Allgood, Jackson Bradshaw, Parker Thompson, and brothers Izik and Evan Service near the eagle statue, they were immediately ready to showcase their tricks. Evan, the elder Service brother, with a camouflage snapback perched over his curly brown hair, didn’t hesitate. He launched himself off the nearby set of wide stairs where everyone had been sitting moments before, achieving an impressive four feet of air and landing perfectly back-wheel first.
Back in 2007, before FOAD had a name or started documenting their exploits, there was BFC – Salt Lake City’s original fixed-gear bike crew. Like FOAD, BFC was all about freestyle riding fixies around the city and participating in local cycling events. However, BFC differed from FOAD in one key aspect: they weren’t keen on younger members. FOAD, in contrast, includes riders still in high school. Today, BFC is no longer active, leaving FOAD as Salt Lake City’s sole fixed-gear bike crew.
My first question was the most obvious: How did they get into fixed gear bikes and riding as a group? Allgood, who had been circling and hopping around with Matt Spencer, a Californian who came to Salt Lake City specifically to ride with FOAD, stopped his bike to explain. “Another kid and I built ours up by converting old road bikes,” he said. Soon after, Allgood connected with the others at Highland High, introducing them to the world of fixed-gear conversions.
“These days, you can buy frames and wheels specifically designed for fixies and build a custom bike, or even buy a complete fixed gear bike,” Allgood explained, “but back then, you had to convert an existing bike frame and build your wheel from the hub.” He spoke with such authority, detailing where they source parts (mostly online), that I felt like I was in a fixie bike building masterclass.
It’s worth mentioning that I also own a fixie, but there’s a vast difference between the bikes FOAD rides and my own, more basic, second-hand machine. Their wheels are massive, far thicker than anything that would fit on my frame. Thompson clarified that as their riding evolved, so did their bikes. Riding more frequently and attempting increasingly complex tricks naturally led to modifications. Larger tires became essential for absorbing the impact of landings.
For any freestyle rider, the goal is to push their equipment to the limit. Thompson demonstrated this by effortlessly performing several wheelies, balancing and riding on his back wheel for about 20 feet back and forth. Part of me secretly hoped he might fall, just to witness firsthand how well both rider and bike would handle the crash, but he smoothly brought the front wheel back down to the pavement.
In their early days, FOAD drew inspiration from online videos of bike messengers. “The tricks came from watching videos online. We saw people doing ‘bike ballet’ tricks, pushing bikes to the extreme,” Allgood shared. They started emulating these riders, practicing tricks riding down stairs and jumping off any urban obstacle they could find downtown, at Fairmont Skate Park, and here at Liberty Park.
Fixed gear bike rider performing a trick, highlighting the dynamic and skillful nature of fixie bike freestyle riding in an urban environment. FOAD has always been diligent about filming their rides, creating mostly short videos ranging from one to five minutes. This consistent online presence led to sponsorships from brands like Destroy Bikes, Royal HC, and Velo City Bags. Earlier this year, Thompson, Allgood, and Bradshaw took their skills to a larger stage, competing in the Red Bull Ride + Style event in California, a prestigious fixed-gear freestyle competition that attracts only 50 riders from across the United States. Furthermore, in June, FOAD sponsored Velo Weekend, a two-day cycling festival featuring a fixed-gear competition (where the FOAD crew members have competed for the past two years), a group ride, and a bike race.
That same weekend marked the premiere of FOAD’s first full-length fixed-gear freestyle bike video, titled Gang Signs. This 40-minute film showcases each member of the crew, along with 25 other riders from around the globe. Gang Signs is a raw display of rail riding, wheelies, jumps from significant heights, hops off smaller obstacles, and a fair share of hard crashes. The video has garnered attention from fixed-gear freestyle blogs worldwide, from California to Greece, including prominent platforms like SuckMyCog, The Radavist, and PSBMX.
This is a significant achievement. None of the FOAD members could have predicted international recognition when they first started riding together. Yet, they insist that this attention hasn’t changed their core motivation. “It still feels like just riding your bike and filming with your friends, but then you realize people you don’t expect are actually stoked on the videos,” Thompson told me. “People we don’t even know say they like them. But for us, the feeling is still the same.”
During our bike session, I realized I was older than all of these guys – not by a huge margin, but enough to have potentially excluded them from my crew had I been part of the older BFC group. I briefly wondered if they had life more figured out than I did. They have a website and connections in Berlin, after all. Meanwhile, I have a rarely updated Twitter account and limited interest in anything beyond my immediate neighborhood. Then, Thompson and Allgood started talking about their fascination with kendama, the ball and stick game popular with elementary schoolers, and I felt slightly less behind the curve.
Despite the kendama interlude, it was clear that bikes are constantly on the minds of the FOAD crew. Three of them work as sandwich delivery cyclists for Jimmy John’s downtown, and Bradshaw is pursuing a communication degree at the University of Utah while also running TTvBlog, a blog dedicated to freestyle fixed-gear riding videos.
As dusk approached, Bradshaw offered to demonstrate more tricks. I took photos as he spun his handlebars and stalled his black bike’s back wheel on the top of the concrete tiers leading to the eagle statue. I asked what drives them to keep biking and freestyling, even after broken bones and encounters with law enforcement. “It’s always evolving,” Bradshaw said, pausing. “It’s not static like a basketball court. It’s an ongoing interaction with your environment.”
Leaving Liberty Park, watching the FOAD crew ride off, I considered getting more involved in this “interacting with my environment” thing. Moments later, I fell off my own bike, deciding it might be wiser to simply walk home.
