by Noah Wildman

Frank Arroya in front of his bike shop

e has grandparents, parents, and their children, all buying their bikes from him. He is the fave-rave of the great Puerto Rican Schwinn Club. He is the spot where bike messengers come for their urgent repairs. His annual Christmas windows are the frugal man's defiant answer to Macy's and Sacks' put together. He hands out Halloween candy to kids and free gloves to folks who participate in local blood drives. He is Frank Arroya, Jr., the man behind the most renowned bike shop this side of 59th Street..

Frank Arroya speaks with the classic LES accent of someone who grew up on Columbia Street. He and his wife moved into Hillman Housing about 30 years ago. Save for a brief stint in the Coast Guard during Vietnam, bikes have been his life since the time Frank's Bike Shop was still a bake shop.

Yes, it's one local urban myth which Frank doesn't deny, that the reason he opened a bike shop in that particular spot was because the sign originally spelled Bake Shop and all he had to do was change one letter.

Apparently, there were other considerations besides the savings on a new sign. Originally Frank ran a shop on Columbus Avenue, where Central Park guaranteed his clientele. But he liked the convenience of living across the street from work.

Frank's Bike Shop is a classic American success story: an independent businessman who becomes an asset to the community. Just about any bike owner in the neighborhood will have something positive to say about Frank, who remembers what bike you ride and refuses to charge if the repair is relatively minor or easy.

Unfortunately, Frank is an authorized Shwinn dealership, and Schwinn is a kind of classic American business failure.

"It took me only a year to get my dealership here, because I was familiar with them and they were sure that I could handle their product. It felt like, jeez, now I'm really in business, I have the dealership."

Schwinn was famous for maintaining tight standards for their dealerships, going so far as to demand that shop mechanics attend annual classes to brush up on the product. The company featured a "500 Club," which awarded dealers who sold more than 500 Schwinn bikes.

But as generations passed in the Schwinn family and management lost sight of quality control, in favor of profit, the competition got the upper hand.

Still, Frank' shop has endured. Bike retailing in the city out-performs department store and Internet sales, because of the level of service which is crucial to navigating all the choices of outfitting a bike.

As to the other bike shops around the Lower East Side, Frank says, "Sometimes other business are doing well, and that's good. Because it means everybody is doing well, and there's more of it to go around."

It's interesting to note that the only street level bike rack in the entire neighborhood is in front of Frank's bike shop. It turns out Frank had nothing to do with it. "The city put it up," he reveals. "They came by, did a survey of the area, and said they were going to put in a rack. A lot of people ask, how did you get the rack? But it's not my rack. And we could use more racks around the city."

Frank is one of those fortunate people who get to do what they enjoy, for as long as they desire. Which brings to mind the question of how long he plans to stay in business.

"You know, I have an older gentleman, Bob, who comes around and helps me out," Frank says. "Bob's 71 years old. He likes to deal with people, and he likes to do mechanical things with his hands. You tell me, at what age would an artist stop painting? I like it here, and as long as I can be here, I will."

Frank’s Bike Shop, 533 Grand Street between Henry and Madison Streets, (212) 533-6332, open 9-7 except Sunday 10-6. Closed Wednesdays