She studied ticks in Thailand and a bacterium in TB. Now she empowers the poor to ride bikes.
By Nancy Brown, É«ÖÐÉ« CEO
Kathryn Doornbos needed a way to unwind from the tedious work of studying the outer membrane proteins of the bacterium that causes tuberculosis.
So one evening she hopped on her bicycle and went for a ride through the streets of Birmingham, Alabama.
It was so refreshing she started making it a habit. During one outing, she encountered a pack of riders. She joined them. When they stopped in a park for a frosty beverage, she stopped, too.
She learned they were part of an organization that helped poor people earn free bicycles. They learned she was a former Fulbright Fellow pursuing a Ph.D. at the University of Alabama-Birmingham.
The camaraderie lured Kathryn back every Thursday at 6:30 p.m. Word of the brainy scientist in their midst filtered to the group's leader, a do-gooder with big ideas who struggled with the administrative end of things.
He asked Kathryn to help write a grant request. She did, and it brought in $2,500.
Then he asked her to help write a more complicated bid. She did, and it brought in $25,000.
Then he asked her to take his place as executive director.
Two years later, it's a toss-up which is more impressive: the impact has had on its community or the fact the nonprofit has taken off under the leadership of a microbiologist who spent two years in Bangkok studying the ecological diversity of Thailand ticks.
Both are worth a closer look.
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Kathryn got into science for the purest of reasons. She wanted to save lives.
Yet the deeper she dove into the world of academic science, the less of a difference she thought she could make.
Exhibit A: Her dissertation. Even if it led to a breakthrough, she feared it would take years to change anything. She wasn't interested in a post-doctorate fellowship, and she didn't like her odds of landing a tenure-track position at a college.
Another dagger to her aspirations came as she pursued money for a research project.
Her grant application to the National Institutes of Health earned a score of 23. Anything less than 25 was considered a shoo-in. A contact at the NIH even told her, "You're good." But then came a reduction in funding and a spike in low-scoring applications. The cutoff dropped to 22.
Everything she'd been working toward seemed headed toward a dead end.
Those were among the thoughts she was working through when she pedaled into the weekly "Trample" organized by the folks at Redemptive Cycles.
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is the brainchild of . He wanted people who were homeless or living in missions to have their own bikes, or to repair those they had, because of what they provided: freedom, transportation, exercise and more.
He started his crusade in a Birmingham warehouse in 2012. The organization moved into its own place in 2013 and earned federal nonprofit status in 2014.
It's run as a regular bike shop, selling new and used bicycles, parts and accessories, plus offering repairs. The difference is that revenue supports its four core programs:
- Earn-A-Bike – volunteer for 12 hours and a bike is yours.
- Sliding Scale Repairs – pay what you can afford, an honor system to keep bikes rolling.
- Public Workstation – a free, do-it-yourself tool bench.
- Mechanics Classes – a deeper dive into repairs.
There's a social component, too.
In addition to the store being a great place to hang out, there's the , a roughly 10-mile ride covering a different route each week. It's so welcoming that people don't even need a bike; just show up and the shop will lend you one.