The bicycles that mechanic Peter Sprunger-Froese cranks into shape aren’t adorned with glossy paint or designed for aerodynamic efficiency.

They are reliable.

That’s what matters to his customers — the homeless and needy, who pay for the bikes with patience instead of money.

Those in need are forced to have a little more patience lately, though, as Sprunger-Froese’s days of wrench-turning have been indefinitely halted after he cut off part of his thumb.

Before he was hurt, Sprunger- Froese operated the Bike Clinic out of a tin warehouse under the Colorado Avenue bridge downtown, where he put in 70 hours a week without pay.

His efforts gave new life to mangled bike carcasses and second-hand parts, often donated or dug from dumpsters. In turn, the bikes help the homeless kick-start their way on a path to job prospects and hope.

“For them, the bike is a real good friend,” Sprunger-Froese said.

He typically retools 14 bicycles a week, and his work is now being outsourced to the Bike Clinic Too, a sister shop opened in 2010 by Brian Gravestock, who co-founded the original clinic with Sprunger-Froese 18 years ago.

Gravestock and a handful of skilled volunteers are now flooded with a backlog of 80 bike orders.

He recently cut down his hours at the clinic because of low donations. That, along with Sprunger-Froese having to put the brakes on his work, has caused the clinic’s production to backpedal.

“It’s a double-whammy right now. The demand for bikes has really exploded,” Gravestock said. “Peter is a full-time person who helps the homeless who won’t for a while.”

Sprunger-Froese doesn’t know when he’ll be able to work again. Accostomed to using his hands, the injury has been challenging, but he’s adapting.

“It’s quite a curb, both in terms of the bicycle repair areas and human relations. The bike work is so much more than turning wrenches. People have a hunger for human relationships,” he said. “I’ve become their friend in a very reliable way.”

Sprunger-Froese’s bigger picture isn’t to reinvent the wheel of society but to encourage compassion.

Customers who use their bikes to land a job often empathize with others who haven’t had the same stroke of good fortune, he said. They strive to help each other, whether that means lending a listening ear or sharing resources.

“They then ask, ‘How I can help you?’ to others. They begin to grasp, in the course of time, that they are not a charity case; they are people with gifts,” Sprunger-Froese said.

Colorado Springs resident Ron Verquer embraced the clinic’s mission when he received his bike.

“I needed a bike to get around and Peter got me one,” he said. “He has helped a lot of people. The community relies on him.”

Bike Clinic Too volunteer Jon Hurly said for the few volunteers like him who can only put in one day a week, Sprunger-Froese serves as an inspiration.

“You can’t put into words or measure on a scale what he does for the community,” he said.

And for Sprunger-Froese, who doesn’t need or want much money and chooses not to have a car, community support and the customer relationships are the highest form of pay.

“It’s extremely humbling,” he said.

Put your shoulder to the wheelThose interested in helping the cause can donate to the Pikes Peak Community Foundation in the name of Bike Clinic Too.Experienced and proficient bike mechanics looking for a hands-on experience at the Bike Clinic Too can call Eileen for more details at 858-231-7094.

Peter Sprunger-Froese lost the end of his right thumb in an accident involving a circular saw last week and has been unable to work at the Bike Clinic, which gives bikes to the homeless. “It’s like a nightmare I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from but unfortunately it’s true,” he said. He was photographed at the Bike Clinic June 2, 2011. Photo by MARK REIS, THE GAZETTE

MARK REIS

Peter Sprunger-Froese lost the end of his right thumb in an accident involving a circular saw last week and has been unable to work at the Bike Clinic, which gives bikes to the homeless. “It’s like a nightmare I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from but Photo by MARK REIS, THE GAZETTE

MARK REIS