Cycles of change

The couriers

by Jason Gay

They have matching tongue-piercings. They wear hip shades. Their combined body-fat percentage is less than Kate Moss's. They live dangerously: when they leave for work in the morning, there's a tiny but definite chance that one of them won't come back.

Meet Adam Ford and Kathleen Smith, Boston bike messengers and a couple for the past two years. The South End pair met a few years back, when Ford, who grew up in Newton, had returned from working as a messenger in San Francisco and was riding downtown, and Smith was a foot courier for a local delivery company.

What followed was your typical love story: boy meets girl, girl likes boy, boy persuades girl to become bike messenger, girl initiates herself into profession by nearly getting decapitated by limousine door. "I was pretty horrified the first time she got hurt," the 28-year-old Ford says. "But Kathleen really did take to the job."

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The cop
The commuter
The competitor

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More Chet-and-Natalie than Sid-and-Nancy, Ford and Smith are the messenger community's version of a royal couple. Adam is one of the most experienced riders in the city, and recently he was the sole active courier on a task force that created Boston's new messenger regulations. The Dorchester-raised Kathleen, who is 22, is one of a handful of women who have successfully cracked the courier community, which tends to be a bit of a boys' club. "I love it," she says. "Every day is different, and there is lots of freedom."

For much of the past year, however, both Ford and Smith have been forced to deal with a controversy that has enveloped their profession. To say that Boston's messenger community is experiencing some troubled times is like saying O.J. Simpson had some marital problems. After last fall's collision between a courier and a prominent citizen -- and last week's downtown melee between a driver and band of riders -- Boston's messengers are starting to feel like Public Enemies Number One. The cops are angry, pedestrians shout expletives, and drivers try to run them off the roads.

"It's starting to get to me," Ford admits. "Everyone who drives or walks to work one day should ride a bike downtown and see what we have to deal with in this city."

Likewise, Ford says he's had enough with city politics. For the past several months, he's been a regular at City Hall, deliberating courier regulations with councilors, cops, and other local leaders. Though Ford managed to persuade the council to abandon its plan to make all couriers wear armbands -- they agreed on a smaller license plate fastened on the bike -- the new rules are still the city's strictest ever and include higher license fees, tough fines, and mandatory rider insurance.

"I really didn't enjoy the process at all," Ford says. "But I felt compelled to do it, so we'd have a voice."

Throughout the year, Ford and Smith have managed to keep level heads about Boston's messy messenger situation -- an achievement they attribute largely to their relationship. Bicycle couriering is a profession unlike any other. But both of them know what it's like to nearly get gored by an 18-wheeler, or to get stared at in an elevator full of suits.

"It makes it easier," says Kathleen. "I try to explain to other people what I do, and they don't really understand it. But he understands."

Forget Lucy and Desi and Dharma & Greg. Adam and Kathleen -- now there's a sitcom. "If they did it right, it could be hilarious," Ford says.

Jason Gay can be reached at jgay[a]phx.com.