Mitchell Scott Garvin

As I mentioned previously I worked with Mitchell for a very long time. I have other stories I'll share later that highlight some of his "Mitchellisms" that made him such a pleasure to be with, but this story is just a fun and lighthearted one which still makes me laugh to think about. Title: Mitchell buys a racing go kart and looks like Chairman Mao
As many of you know Mitchell worked at Sears Point Raceway for a company that built race cars and during that time he was exposed to all kinds of racing activities that went on there. Later, after coming to work at Carlsen & Associates he shared lots of stories of his time there with myself and his coworkers and we learned plenty. Most of us had no idea of the multitude of vehicles being raced out there. Besides Nascar and drag racing which most of us knew about, there are motorcycles, vintage cars, go karts, all with different divisions and classes. One day that summer Mitchell came to work with a go kart. It looked like a miniature Formula One car, with fairing and wing. Pretty soon a small group of us formed around him and his new toy and began asking him questions. Q: “Where did you get it?” A: “Some guy at Sear Point”. Q: “Where are you going to drive it?” A: “I don’t know, maybe out at Sears Point or maybe an empty parking lot”. Q: “How fast does it go?” A: “It’ll do 80 easily”. A collective gasp was heard. “80 miles per hour???!!!!”.
After some more back and forth, Mitchell offered to fire it up so we could see what it could do. The Carlsen shop is in an industrial area with a large parking lot which has essentially the same layout as the track section of a football field, just half the size. The shop occupied 2 suites in the main building which the parking lot surrounded, and our shop had a few large roll-up doors on the backside of the building. We normally started at 6am, but in the summer as early as 5am. At that time of the morning nobody was around the building except us.
Mitchell started it up. It was LOUD! Shockingly loud, as in a car without a muffler loud. He got in and took off. It was FAST! He got to one end of the parking lot and spun a u- turn and was back to our stunned little group in maybe 4 seconds. Someone uttered “Mitchell looks a lot like Chairman Mao in that thing….” At this point in life Mitchell had a noticeably receding hairline, so with wind blowing back his hair and the fact that the kart was so fast you literally had to squint your eyes into slits sort of transformed his appearance. He actually did look a lot like the Chairman.
After a couple more demonstration laps he let all of us drive it. It was hilarious. Everyone had wide grins, the kind that actually hurt, this thing was so incredibly fun. It was a workday though, so inside the shop the kart went. But the next day before work it came out again. This time we advanced to doing full laps all the way around the building.
On day 3 at about 5:15am, just after we put the new toy away a police cruiser showed up. He circled the building a couple times and was poking around, so I went out to talk with him. Q: “Hi, I saw your car. I work in the building, is there anything I can help you with?” A: “Yes, we got a report of loud noise coming from around here. There is a bookkeeper who works across the street there who called in, said there’s something in this parking lot zipping around. Like a motorcycle or something”. I answer “Huh….yes, we heard something too, like a chainsaw or something. I didn’t see anything though. I just figured it was from up on the freeway behind the shop”. Obviously this was a huge lie, but the officer seemed to buy it, so after a little more looking around he left. Back in the shop we pulled a quick huddle and agreed to keep it cool for a few days and leave the kart parked out of sight. A few of us had noticed a light on in the office across the street and we determined if the light is on we should limit the driving to just the back of the parking lot so the noise wouldn’t be so bad. But either way we all realized this wasn’t going to fly in the long run. The kart was just too loud, too fast, and way too addicting to keep around.
Still though, just having the thing sitting there was far too tempting. Mitchell had been working on it during breaks and lunch, so we all were still exposed to this little fun machine and eventually Mitchell took it out again for a test drive. At this point we began referring to these little excursions as “hot laps”. One day, and at this point it had just become light out, Mitchell took it out for a quick hot lap. But this time as he was sliding around the corner of the lot he passed our landlord. Our landlord was an extremely unpleasant person. He used to do a slow role through the parking lot a few times a week to be sure his tenants weren’t breaking any of his rules. Normally his patrol happened later in the morning, but not on this day. Mitchell floored it, ripped around the balance of the parking lot and drove directly back into the shop, right to the little hidey hole where the kart normally was parked, and ran back and quickly closed the roll up door and returned to his work station. Within 30 seconds the landlord was pounding on the back door. Mitchell let him in. Q: “Did you see a kid on a scooter go by?!?” A: “No, I heard something loud, but I didn’t see anyone”. Q: “It wasn’t you was it?” A: “No, I’ve been at my work station right over there since 5am. If you don’t need anything further, I’ll get back to work”. The landlord glared around a bit then walked back to his truck and left. I’m sure he was thinking “He looked a bit like that guy who answered the door, but the kid on the scooter looked more like Chairman Mao”.
At any rate, no more hot laps, and Mitchell took the go kart home and soon sold it.

A story written by Mitchell in 1995: "Mitchell's Cyclocross story"

I have always had this attraction to things that have a definitive purpose, like tools and sporting equipment, especially cyclocross bikes. All of these things have one purpose for which they were intended. A drill you drill holes with; A hockey stick you play hockey with (or hit someone in the head). A cyclocross bike is for racing cyclocross. This is a bike with a purpose. Skinny knobby sew ups and old school Mafac brakes with their long straddle cables set up the ways the Euro guys set up their bikes. Red anodized finish worn away on the down tube from years of grabbing it in the same spot to shoulder it. Drop bars with bar ends and a plastic Unicantor saddle. You know, the kind that everyone looks at and says, "How do you ride on that thing?" Sure, you could take this bike out on the fire roads and trails but there are better bikes for that. They're called mountain bikes and raced in mountain bike races.

Grabbing the top tube, jumping over hurdles shouldering and scrambling up the steep run ups, riding in the drops, one leg out down tricky descents. That's cyclocross. I remember the first 'cross bike I saw. It was a red Guerciotti just like the one described above, complete with the anodizing lovingly work off from years of use. To this day I would still like to have that bike, despite the fact that I am now a frame builder (some people would argue this because my name isn't on the down tube) and can make my own bike. The first frame I made was a 'cross bike, not a hybrid (I hate that word) not an adventure bike (even worse), it was a cyclocross bike.

I was working at this shop in Toronto Canada where I worked 11 months of the year, having January off. The shop was 30 years old and although I don't think they ever made frames there, I found this greasy old wooden crate with about seven of the old style stamped steel lugs, in the basement. I took all of them, and decided I was going to build myself a frame. The plan was to first practice brazing on the lugs I found. Then, with a tube set and some of the new investment cast lugs from Cyclops, make myself a cyclocross frame. However, the guys at Cyclops were very secretive about frame building and not much help (Come on guys, give a kid a break.) I ended up ordering the tube set from a company in the States. That January, while laid off, I was going to start my frame. I'd always been kind of a tinkerer. I was into skateboarding and had to make my own skateboard. I was a goalie when I played hockey and made my own goalie mask, just like Jacques Plant used to do. Why not a bicycle frame?

After burning up a couple of these precious lugs, I found the Proteous Frame building book and found out you need flux for brazing, a substance that greatly aids the brazing process. Not only was I building my own frame, I was also learning to braze and not like in high school with super thick angle iron, but very thin scraps of bicycle tubing that get hot very quickly. The tube scraps I practiced on were given to me by a guy whose dad used to build bikes. The flux really helped and after I cut apart a few of these practice joints I felt I was ready to start.

Rob Jones, the service manager at the same shop had a copy of "Design and Building Your Own Frameset" by Richard P Talbot, and offered to loan it to me when he heard I was going to make a bike. I made a plywood jig just like the one it says to make in the manual, and started my frame. IT took me six months to make my first bike, hand filing all the tubes the way the masters did it. I filed away sloppy brazing and finally brought it to the shop to use the "Campy" tools for the finishing touches. Chasing bottom bracket threads, facing head tube faces and finally having it painted at this local shop that re-sprayed frames. Six months. It wasn't until June that I rode the bike, and never even raced it. Looking back, the craftsmanship wasn't bad, but it rode horribly.

My very first cyclocross race was in Toronto, Canada. Some friends and I were riding back from a mountain bike race and came across the start of a cyclocross race. All of us did the race on our mountain bikes, and in the end none of us understood why everyone didn't just ride mountain bikes. About seven years ago, after moving to California, I went to my next few cyclocross races in Santa Cruz, still riding a mountain bike. However, I was racing in the "C" category, because I didn't have a USCF license. All of the guys in the "C" category races on mountain bikes, while the "hot" racers like Clark Natwick, Don Myrah, and Daryl Price were riding cyclocross bikes. By now I was transformed and I wanted a 'cross bike once again.

I've made a couple hundred frames to date, only a dozen of which have been cyclocross frames. There is this kind of romance thing associated with cyclocross, the same kind of romance thing associated with frame building. Everyone wants to do it, but few actually do. You hear the buzz after the road and mountain bike season, everybody is going to get a 'cross bike together and race cyclocross. Some do and usually go to a couple of races, there they find out that just like frame building, all of the romance isn't romance but hard work.

Your idea of frame building is this black and white photo of an old man, hands muscular and scarred, filing a frame, with frames hanging in the background. Just like most images of cyclocross are of a racer with the bike shouldered, running through the mud, no thought given to how the man's hands became scarred or if the racer even finishes the race. Frame building, like cyclocross racing is dirty, not glamorous. There aren't women hanging around the shop all of the time, just like there are too many spectators at races - few of which are women and even fewer racing.

Cyclocross is becoming this hybrid (yuk) sport in California that is like an hour long BMX race on mountain bikes. With the popularity of mountain biking and the USCF's lack of interest in the sport, cyclocross will probably become a thing of the past, like friction shifting or clips and straps. (Sorry Robert). Things of the past, like taking pride in your work; striving for goals not easily achieved; frame building and actually dismounting to clear that obstacle can still exist within the 'net surfing, suspension crazed world. So get a cyclocross bike together, a real cyclocross bike and I hope to see you out there.
by Mitchell Garvin

My brother was one of the good guys. It is heartbreaking that he is gone. I wrote a story for him two Christmases ago, and I told him I loved him in it.

Like many families, "I love you" wasn't thrown around too much, so I am genuinely thankful I wrote this story, and he read it, and even said I could share it with people. Thanks, Mitch, for being a stand-up older brother, and a stand-up human. I miss you.

Here is my story:
https://medium.com/the-narrative-arc/two-wheels-and-holiday-feels-the-christmas-gift-i-never-expected-0898ab905078?sk=8aff60c7ecc1e9522bad886de553bd65

This story about Mitchell highlights his truly devious yet hilarious sense of humor. He really enjoyed the type of prank that would shock and possibly embarrass his poor victim. As with the previous tribute story about Mitchell and those that will follow this is set when he was at Carlsen & Associates.
Before I begin, and lest you think this story and the rest I’ll tell take the measure of the man, I want you reiterate what I and the rest of you know: That he was a really decent person with a mountain of integrity, and had an incredible work ethic.
It’s not entirely clear the exact origin of a series of pranks that will culminate in what will follow, but I can only assume it began when Mitchell was in line at some seedy liquor store and saw the rack of filthy magazines behind the checkout counter not as disgusting smut, but rather as a special opportunity. He evidently bought several of these and furtively brought them back to Carlsen. Over the course of the next few months he cut out some of the choicer depictions and hid them throughout the shop. Pulling at the roll of toilet paper and what appeared? Flip down your welding visor and what was taped inside where you were expecting to see a weld appear? Open a drawer in the kitchen to grab some silverware? It took a while to figure out who was behind this. I think it was at the point where he began adding his own captions using words cut out from other magazines (sort of like a criminal that sends an anonymous letter to the cops) that somebody noticed his work station had the remnants of cutouts, scissors, and tape at the ready and put 2 and 2 together. Once he was outed, you might have thought his prank would have come to an end, but it didn’t.
The owner of Carlsen & Associates (Jim Carlsen) had a motorcycle he kept at the shop. It’s not entirely clear when the filthy pictures got placed into the registration packet that was kept on the bike, but apparently Jim had no cause to look at or show the paperwork to anyone so the pics stayed with them for some unknown period of time. Eventually though, Jim sold the motorcycle to a mutual friend of ours named Gerard Nebesky. Gerard, took delivery of the bike, and as excited as he was to own it thought he’d take it for a spin before getting the title transferred into his name. While on this ride he made a minor traffic infraction and was pulled over by a police officer. When asked to show his registration and proof of insurance, Gerard simply handed the officer the entire packet and explained he’d just gotten the bike and would be going to DMV the next day to transfer the title. The officer took the packet back to his car to run the plates and verify what Gerard had told him. After a few minutes the officer returned to where Gerard was parked. He was visibly angry and had a ticket ready. He didn’t say why he was angry, but Gerard reported he’d been friendly when he pulled him over, but now was red-faced and curt…clearly very upset.
As promised the next day Gerard went to the Santa Rosa DMV with the intent of transferring the title. As with the day before, he handed over the entire registration packet to the DMV technician and waited for her to remove the documents. It was at that moment as she was removing everything from the sleeve he saw the pictures. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabbed the packet out of her hands and mumbled something about having to “go right now” and tore out of the DMV office. Once outside he took a close look at what was inside. He was so flustered he decided not to return to this DMV office, and instead went down to the Petaluma DMV to try again. We heard about the story maybe a week later, and while we all got a hearty laugh, Mitchell was particularly delighted….

After bouncing around each other at various cycling shenanigans for many years, I finally got to know Mitchell well when he let let me know about a job opening at IBIS that he urged me to apply for. It ended up being one of the best and most fun experiences of my life. Mitchell's fab experience, fun demeanor and drive to help others create and improve was an important part of the shop culture at the time and it would not have been the same without him. From the impromptu "strong man" competitions (which Mitchell often won) and break time hacky sack circles, Mitchell was always a positive presence and I doubt you'd find anyone who disagreed. Mitchell and I commuted together often and had a great time sharing stories and laughs on the way.

I was lucky enough to share more time with Mitchell later on at HUFFAKER ENGINEERING, a job he also recommended me for. We spent long days and nights grinding away building bad ass race cars and enjoying every minute of it together. Honestly, Mitchell's influence on me and the opportunities for learning and personal growth he facilitated were life changing and overwhelmingly positive. He had an innate ability to steer those he was around in the right direction, always knew the best way to get you out of a funk and inspire progress.

I consider myself a far better person for having known him and will always cherish the good times we had together at work and screwing around after. Mitchell once told me regarding fabrication that "It always comes down to an eighth of an inch." and I have found that statement to be an undeniable truth of life over the years so I have been and will always from now on refer to 1/8" as a "Garvin" as it always reminds me of the fun, kind and amazing person he was. I will miss you my friend.

Mitchell and I became archery buddies and great friends about 4 years ago. We shared a love of the outdoors, fun road trips and adventures, the TV show Alone, our punk rock sensibility, grilling delicious foods, our archery posse and community. We’re also very different – I’m a super outgoing whackadoodle, he was often more quiet and thoughtful. If I paid attention, I’d notice what he noticed, like a quail hiding in a tree trunk on the hillside, an amazing mushroom growing out of the ground, a beautiful white egret floating overhead. I learned a lot from Mitchell – ocean fishing on the rocks, that Bad Ass Coffee is delicious, beautiful Lake Sonoma’s best secret archery shots, archery golf is best at night with lighted nocs under the planets and stars. The simple joy in spending time crafting things for ourselves and others, that things can be repaired and solutions worked through in that amazing brain of his. There were times I drove him crazy – oh the day he tried to teach me how to use my arrow straightener that he repaired for me, and we were laughing because I was like – I’M NOT GONNA REMEMBER ANY OF THIS, MITCHELL.

There have been some really challenging times for me in the past four years, and Mitchell would always be there, supporting me, cheering me on, using gentle humor or getting me to engage my warrior side to step up. I always did my best to support and encourage him, listen and empathize on his tough days, celebrate his victories large and small. Sometimes he would drive me crazy with his shenanigans (you were going to go off the grid in a kayak without telling anyone, and then your gall bladder failed?!), or the things he wouldn’t tell me until later, if at all.

He’s a special human who has done so much for others, often behind the scenes, that I did my very best in our friendship to surprise him with things that would give him a smile and bring him joy. We were walking next to each other during a time in our lives where having a playmate was just the thing, and boy did we have fun. My life is better for his friendship and his care, the laughter that we shared, the things we learned from each other.

I’m still absorbing the shock of the loss of our friend, but I will carry him always in my heart to future adventures, beautiful night skies, fun archery shoots, magnificent grilling extravaganzas, laughter with friends. I’ll spend time being quiet outdoors and see what Mitchell would see and listen to the wind. I’m grateful to be counted in the number of humans and animals and beings that knew and loved Mitchell.

I wrote a poem for Mitchell when I learned he had passed. I’ll share it here.

Each heartbeat
each breath
each footstep
every sunrise and sunset
so sweet and dear
we are but shooting stars, flaming bits of wonder
inbetween the trudging of the ordinary
the exquisite pain of being
feeling each cracked piece of heartbreak
eating dirt
getting up to do it all over again
I hope you feel the peace of that quiet time of dusk
the sounds of crickets and frogs
the crackling steps of deers and wolves and magic adventures
the green of the grass
the blue of the water
so many beautiful wild things I wish for you
Arwooooooooooo
❤️ ❤️ ❤️

I worked with Mitchell for 17-18 years and have a lot of anecdotal stories from our time in the shop. He was a truly gifted mechanic and fabricator, and had an incredible sense of humor. This is the first of a series of stories I'll share from those days. I'll always remember him, appreciate him, and I'll deeply miss him now going forward.

All of us know that Mitchell was both an avid skateboarder and a very independent spirit. Sometimes that “independence” took the form of rebelling against "The Man", and in the case of this story The Man happened to be the Healdsburg Police Dept, specifically an officer who would occasionally patrol the skate park located a couple of blocks from where we worked at Carlsen & Associates. Mitchell would often go skate there before work or at lunch. One day while skating he was flagged down by a patrolling officer and ticketed for not wearing knee or elbow pads. Even though it was a nominal ticket amount, and Mitchell clearly was in violation of the posted rules of the park, and the officer had him dead to rights, he was fuming and incensed when he got back to the shop. First off, what’s the big deal? It’s not like he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Second, he was clearly a grown man, and if he was willing to risk losing a little skin in the bowl or on the grind rail what’s it to the police officer? It wasn’t like he was going to run home to mommy in tears, with mommy coming back to the next board meeting threatening to sue the City of Healdsburg. Third, he didn’t like the officer’s attitude. Waaaay too badge heavy, way too pleased with his authority. Mitchell’s displeasure didn’t go away after a good night of sleep. The next day he was just as angry, probably even a bit angrier. What a jerk that officer was! He probably loved throwing his weight around in front of a crowd of tweens and teens! A real dick!
Days passed. Each day I’d hear him recounting some new detail about the ticket, and what horseshit it was. “The guy probably kicks his dog!”……”Why would you give a ticket for that!!??”
About a week into this Mitchell asked me what I thought was the actual definition of a knee pad? “I don’t know”, I answered, “it’s just a knee pad I guess”. He said “Right, exactly! Anything that pads your knee is a knee pad!” Then he says “Look at this, what is this?” “A Bandaid”, I answer. “Yes, but what is this part of the bandaid” he asks, pointing to the little pad that sops up whatever is oozing from your wound. “A pad?” I venture… tentatively. “EXACTLY!” he shouts, all excited. “So if I wear Bandaids on my knees and elbows there is no way they (The Man) can say I’m not wearing knee and elbow pads!!!” I’m sure he didn’t hear anything I said after that…stuff like “the cop is never going to buy that, blah blah blah…”
Mitchell went to the skatepark regularly in the coming days, always with Bandaids on both knees and elbows. Ready for when Officer Jerkoff showed up…trying to oppress members of society as they always do, always will try to do unless people with Free Will push back against their unchecked authority. Because that's what The Man does.

Luckily that showdown never came, and I’m pretty sure after a few weeks Mitchell quietly started wearing real kneepads and elbow pads, which he already owned anyway. But he’d made his point.

Thanks Mitchell for being my friend sharing fun camping and hunting adventures. I will never forget your kind a generous soul.

Bill and I are so very sorry for your loss. I remember Mitchell and your family so well as June and Bella were good childhood friends of our grandchildren Artemis and Sage. Angela is a dear friend of our daughter Leah. We have been guests in their home. This is such a terrible loss for all of you and for all those who benefited from knowing Mitchell.
We are keeping you in our thoughts and prayers.

What a beautiful life and incredible reminder of standing with Mitchell just after June was born. It had been a long night and everyone was exhausted but he was glowing—scared, awed and so in love.

There are so many memories from the 32 years that I knew and loved Mitchell. Many are so profoundly meaningful, that it's hard to reflect on them now. Many are radiantly beautiful, and I am incredibly grateful. Others are painful, and sad. That's how life is - and how we all are as people. We have our own blocks, barriers, life traumas that make it hard for us to connect and accept the love that is offered. This was also true of Mitchell. And yet, I am beyond grateful for all of it.

One memory that comes to mind, is the day June was born, Mitchell was spellbound staring at her face. He sat and held her in front of him for hours. Finally he looked up at me, and I expected him to say something like, "she is so beautiful", but instead he said, "When she's 16, I'm getting a gun". It was so Mitchell, and of course I laughed out loud.

The day Issy was born, he sat in the same way, holding his baby girl in front of him for hours. When someone came and offered to take her, he didn't want to let her go.

Mitchell was featured on the Unscripted Moments podcast, interviewed about his time as the lead singer of Sudden Impact
https://unscriptedmoments.libsyn.com/bent-ep-106