Bicycle inventor has the last laugh - Billie Joe Becoat invents two-wheel drive bicycle and secures patent in 32 countries

Ebony, June, 1993

Billie Joe Becoat's "Two-Wheel Drive" is first major bike innovation in 70 years

THEY laughed when Billie Joe Becoat first rode his son's bike.

Every evening, after a long day at work, he would come home and tinker with the bike. He would tell anyone who would listen that he had invented something extraordinary. But his Alton, Ill., neighbors only saw a grown man huffing and puffing on a kid's bike.

"It was a little embarrassing," Becoat says. "People were looking, and I knew what they were thinking: "That man has lost his mind.' My wife wondering too. And all I could say to her was, 'But, baby, you don't understand.'"

Officials at Schwinn, the one-time giant bicycle maker, apparently didn't understand either. They turned down his invention outright, a rejection that still haunts Becoat.

"They laughed it off," he recalls. "My sister saw this and told me: 'One of these days, I don't think they're going to be laughing.'"

No one is laughing at Becoat now. Six years and 50 prototypes later, he and his two-wheel-drive bike are about to revolutionize recreational cycling.

Industry experts say his two-wheel-drive technology is the first major bicycle innovation since the derailleur was produced 70 years ago to shift gears.

The bike, which looks like a typical mountain bike, consists of an extra ring gear on the back wheel and a sheathed rotating cable that connects to another gear on the front wheel. By shifting power from the back wheel to the front wheel, the new bike, Becoat says, provides better traction and handling on slippery surfaces and rough terrain.

Industry experts say cyclists can ride through snow on Becoat's bike because both wheels pull through the slushy terrain and give the rider better control of the bike. Steering is easier on turns because the front wheels won't slide on sharp turns. His innovation also makes for easier pedalling on hills. The bike, which comes in various sizes for children and adults, costs anywhere from $135 to $1,500.

The invention also has the potential to make Becoat and his small group of investors very rich. Their firm, Bect Enterprises Inc., holds the international patent rights for the bike in 32 countries, including the Peoples Republic of China. Last December they signed a worldwide licensing agreement with MacGregor Co., a sporting goods firm that will manufacture and sell the bicycle. (Schwinn filed bankruptcy and was bought by another firm this year.)

Bringing the bike to market was made even sweeter because Becoat's firm includes 35 Black men and women who initially bought stock in the company and raised $225,000 in working capital to start developing the bike.

"Yes!! My own people did it," Becoat says with relish. "I now have about six White shareholders out of 50. Black people stuck right with me. Oh, we had some head battles, but we always reconciled in our meetings. We never became so emotional that we broke up the corporation. Don't tell me my people ain't nothing. I'm crazy about my people."

While the world marvels at the new bike, Becoat chuckles as he describes how he stumbled onto his lofty idea. The trek from tinkerer to inventor began in the driveway of his home when Becoat decided to repair a broken chain on his son's bicycle.

"The chains kept breaking," says Billie Becoat Jr., who remembers his father taking his bike and repairing it on the front porch. "I knew he was into tinkering. So I sacrificed it."

As he worked on the bike, Becoat began wondering about gears, sprockets and cable chains. He recalls "getting lost" in the idea of transferring power from the bike's back wheel to the front wheel. From that point, he was off and running. "I'd catch myself saying, 'Man, you're tripping,'" he recalls. "Then I'd say, 'No! I ain't tripping.' I figured it could be done."

Following in the footsteps of earlier Black inventors, Becoat has succeeded in turning an idea into a desired product. But he brushes aside any comparisons to illustrious men of science like George Washington Carver, Percy Julian or Garrett Morgan.

"People tell me, 'Becoat, you're raising hell,'" he says. "But they don't know their history. I just do what I can do. Most of this wasn't me getting an idea. It was hard work and persistence."

The work almost ruined him.

There was, he says, the constant scramble to get money for a new part or prototype. He had to cash in insurance policies and take out an extra mortgage on his home to finance his work. At one point, state officials questioned him about selling unregistered securities when he raised money by selling shares.

Applying for a patent produced its own share of stress. There were reams of paperwork and countless demands for design markups. The process sent Becoat to the library to keep up with the terminology and procedures. He also went through three patent attorneys before finally settling on a lawyer who helped him obtain his patents.

Besides grappling with the patent process, raising money and tinkering with the bicycle for technical improvements, Becoat had to travel extensively to promote his invention in hopes of wooing a manufacturer.