Intersections

I spoke with Aaron "Butta" Stewart about winning Bombing Down Broadway, racing 112 miles for Road to the End of the World, and fixed-gear cycling.

“I feel like I became a strong cyclist and got into competitive cycling because I just like being on my bike,” said Aaron “Butta” Stewart. “I wasn’t trying to be the fastest and prove to myself that I could come in first place. I was just outside.”

Butta’s earliest memories with a bike were in Bed Stuy in 2005. “Way before gentrification, was a time where you could walk around the hood and it was just bikes laying around. A messed up one, a good one, a frame, literally all over the Stuy and Flatbush. Me and my friends would pick them up, take them back to the block and ask the older dudes for their tools. I was kind of like the handyman. I used to be the one trying to put it together.”

Later in life, after college, Butta became interested in fixed gear bikes. There was one bike in particular that he admired inside of a local barbershop. “I used to get my hair cut at the same barber all the time. What I now know as a Bianchi Pista, the silver one, I used to see that bike leaning up against his wall. I was like, ‘Yo, that bike looks mad interesting.’ The lack of wires, brake leathers, and the overall clean look of a fixed-gear bike appealed to Butta. “I went home and I searched ‘banshee.’ I could never find it.” He eventually learned that the brand was Bianchi and began researching bikes to purchase. “I learned that it’s kind of an expensive industry. I went on Amazon, copped a little $200 bike that I thought was a fixie.”

One day, Butta learned the hard way that the bike he had purchased was not fixed-gear. “I was coming out of Fulton Bikes, the original Fulton Bikes right there on Marcus Garvey and Fulton. I was coming out of there one day, and this kid was like, ‘Yo, that’s a fixed bike, right?’ I’m like, ‘Yeah,’ He’s like, ‘Can it go backwards? I say, ‘Yeah.’ I tried to go backwards, and the coaster brake activated. I was like, ‘Damn.’ I just rolled off. I thought it could go backwards, but it don’t.” After that, Butta browsed Facebook Marketplace in search of a true fixed-gear bike. Finding the right bike was a learning process. “I didn’t know what my size was. I didn’t know what brand to get. I just copped something that appealed to my eyes.”

Butta eventually found a fixed-gear bike that he wanted to buy. He agreed to meet the seller near Yankee Stadium. He worked for Saks Fifth Avenue at the time and travelled up to the Bronx during his lunch break. “I got the bike, came back, locked it up. Then I went home and fixed it up.” Butta admitted that he didn’t realize it at the time, but with the knowledge he has gained in a decade of riding fixed gear, the bike he purchased was a death trap. “It was holding on by two little bullshit washers. It was a terrible setup. And it got stolen. I’m glad it got stolen.”

During the pandemic, Butta purchased a KHS Flight 100 from King Kog in Brooklyn. A few weeks after buying the bike, he rode to a Jamaican spot to grab a bite to eat. He left the bike outside while he ordered food. When he went back outside, he was confronted by another cyclist. “Cheick, who is now my boy, pulled up on me. He was like, ‘That’s your bike? Don’t leave it outside like that.’ I’m like, ‘It’s a fixed-gear. It’s a window right here. Ain’t nobody gonna take it. They gotta be fast. If they get on it, they’re not gonna get far. I’m gonna catch them.’ Then he says, ‘I ride fixed, bro. If I wanted your bike, I could have took it.’ And I’m like, ‘Ah, you got me, bro.’”

Meeting Cheick was a pivotal moment for Butta. “When I copped the KHS, I was riding around by myself. I kind of felt like there was no community. I felt like there were no fixed-gear riders in New York, because I just keep seeing everybody on road bikes.” After meeting Cheick, Butta was added to a group chat, which became a tight-knit community of cyclists. From that point on, his knowledge of bikes and bike culture expanded. “They introduced me to the bigger community, which introduced me to the alleycats and community events.” The group also educated him on gear ratios, clipless pedals, saddle preference, and more. “Tiny things, you know, like types of chains. Little things that get your bike going. Different cranks. I didn’t know none of that until I met Mark and Vidal. They put me onto all of that. Through that, I built up my bike a little bit better.” Throughout 2021 and 2022, the group rode with Thursday Night Social Ride and on their own. “I found out what social cycling was. We used to pop out to that a lot. We’d still do our own things on the side. We were in a group chat like, “What we got today? We’d go uptown, come back, chill, smoke, whatever.”

Another resource that educated Butta on bike culture was Terry Berentsen’s YouTube page. “Terry B is the only guy covering, boots on the ground, what’s going on in the underground cycling community.” Butta frequently watched Terry’s videos and educated himself on the alleycats that New York City has to offer. One video that piqued his interest was about the alleycat race, Bedford Burning 2022. “I watched that video so many times. I was so interested in that race because I know the street from beginning to end. I’m like, ‘Damn, I think I could do this, but do I have the stamina to do it?’ It became me studying the video almost, where I was trying to put myself in that same place. I know I could cut up. I know I could weave through traffic. I know I could dodge cars, but, ‘Am I that fast?’”

One night, Butta was riding laps with his friends at Prospect Park. “One lap turned into two laps. Two laps turned into three laps. Once we stopped, I checked my Garmin. It was 30 minutes, 10 miles. I’m like, ‘I think I could do this shit.’ I didn’t know I had that in me. I’m like, ‘I think I could do Bedford Burning.’” Before participating in an alleycat, Butta attended races just to hang out. “2023 was my first competitive year. That came after a while of popping out to alleycats, not racing, just going to the event to chill, meet more people in the community, and see how they did. Not really prepping to race, just wanted to go do something. It’s a bike event? I’m going. They’re cooking out after. Let’s go and see what’s up.”

During this time, Butta was working as a delivery driver for Uber. “I think that really got me strong on my bike. I was out there every day.” Before 2020, he worked for Nike, but was let go during the pandemic. This put him in a financial hole with his landlord. He was able to negotiate a deal that allowed him to repay the money owed in installments. “I just spent eight hours out here on this damn bike. Only made like $150. I was never able to catch up.” Eventually, he was forced into parting ways with the apartment. “I grew up with my landlord. She knew me from a kid or whatever. She was like, ‘I really don’t want you to get too deep. We can stop it right here, and if you can find somewhere else to stay, you can always come back.’” Butta moved in with his aunt for that period. “I didn’t really like being over there. So, I was using the bike to stay out of the crib as long as I possibly could.”

The first alleycat race that Butta participated in was Bomb Down Broadway 2023. He felt hesitant to let his family know what he was doing. “My family is a real close-knit family, right? I like to think of them as the Huxtables. My family is real down to earth, but they don’t go too far off the norm. I can’t explain it to them. I probably told my aunt, ’I’m about to go do some Uber real quick.’ I forgot what I told her. I just told her I’m going outside.”

When Butta arrived at the start of the race, he felt nervous. “I see a couple people I know, and I see a bunch of fast people. I’m like, ‘Damn, it’s my first race. I got to keep up with these guys?’” Eventually, he spotted his friend, Cheick, which was surprising to him because Cheick had been off his bike for a few months due to an injury. “I asked him, ‘Are you ready for this?’ I guess he thought I was meaning cardio-wise or fitness-wise, but I was more so talking mentally. You know, you haven’t been on your bike. You haven’t been cutting up through traffic. I’ve been doing Uber. I’ve been outside, on my shit for the last eight months, every day. So my sword is kind of sharp, you know? I guess he didn’t think of it like that. He thought of it as fitness. He’s like, ‘Yeah, I’m ready, bro.’

Butta held Cheick and other cyclists he had grown close to in the years leading up to that race in high regard. “Cheick is one of my inspirations: Cheick and my boy, Mark. Cheick and Mark are some of the fastest people. My inspiration was to always hold Mark’s wheel or keep up with Cheick. Cheick was always super fast, super athletic.”

When the race started, Butta did his best to keep up with Cheick. ”I’m right behind him, and I’m telling myself, I got to speed up. I got to catch up to Cheick. As soon as I said that to myself, I see him slam into the back of an SUV.” Butta stopped racing and went to check on his friend. “He was on the floor, bleeding or whatever. Luckily, a freaking ambulance was coming up the block.“ Butta joined Cheick as he was rushed to the hospital. “He was a little disoriented, but he was conscious again. He was talking. He had really bad cuts on his face, but made a full recovery.” Butta was grateful that Cheick wore a helmet at the time of the accident. He believes it might have prevented him from suffering a worse fate. “He healed so well. He’s doing good to this day, but that was my first wake-up call to what the damn alleycat game is.”

Despite witnessing this crash, Butta went on to compete in more races in 2023. “Bedford Burning was my first full alleycat. I ended up placing sixth in that. That was my first time meeting Terry in person.” Butta held fourth place for a majority of the race until he hit an obstacle in Williamsburg. “I was in the blind side of a taxi and of course, it was picking somebody up. They went over and pushed me to the curb. My bike went up under me. I landed on my feet, grabbed my bike, got right back on. Two people passed me and I ended up finishing in sixth place. I was like, “Top 10 for my first alleycat? This is fire.”

Before 2024, Butta only competed in alleycats where the route was one long straightaway. Booking Through Brooklyn 2024 was his first traditional alleycat that required participants to cover more ground in the city. “I did terrible. My navigation was horrible. I hit a bump, and it lowered my PSI. I think I was running on like 40 PSI by the time I got back to Grand Army Plaza. I’m thinking the race is ending. I just did all of North Brooklyn, Downtown, Bed Stuy, Crown Heights. Now they hand us another manifest for Flatbush and Coney Island. I’m like, ‘God, I’m not making it.’” Butta faced similar disappointment when competing in Harlem Skyscraper in 2024. “I underestimated that race because I’m just thinking it’s a small race in New York. Come to find out, that was more of a super prestigious race in the cycling world. A lot of pros and ex-pros came out for that race. I got dropped in the first two laps. And I’m like, ‘Shit, I need a bigger gear ratio.’”

Butta made some upgrades to his bike in preparation for Race to the End of the World 2024, a 112-mile race from Williamsburg to Montauk. “I cleaned up my drive chain, got my SPD pedals, got my helmet, and got my water bottle. I think I’m ready.” The Race to the End of the World is a team-based event. Butta raced alongside Cheick and another friend of his named Vlad. “I’m in the peloton and I’m like, ‘Yo, the peloton looks weird.’ I’ve been in a few pelotons. I’ve been doing group rides at this point so I’m like, ‘Why does the peloton look weird?’” It wasn’t until the end of the race that Butta realized that everyone was wearing a hydration pack while he showed up with only one water bottle.

For the first half of the race, Butta kept pace with the front of the pack. “I stayed with the breakaway pack. They dropped me like 50 miles in. I’m by myself after that. I get to mile 60, the most excruciating cramps. When I tell you every ligament in my quad was pulling. I’m experiencing these cramps that are making me cry like a baby. I’m on the side of the road, in front of a Starbucks. I’m literally screaming, tears coming out of my eyes, and everything.” Butta went into Starbucks, where he rehydrated and stretched. Cheick and Vlad eventually met up with him and continued the race. “I get to mile 80 and the cramps come back again. For the rest of the ride, from mile 60 and on, I was dealing with the worst cramps I ever dealt with. I don’t know how I made it through that race, but I was definitely underprepared. I didn’t bring carbs with me. I didn’t bring actual hydration. All I had was water. I didn’t bring snacks, nothing. I just thought I needed to be strong enough to do 100 miles. I learned a lot from that”

This experience ultimately taught Butta that he had lost a part of himself by immersing himself so deeply in competition. “Although I’m grateful, I’ve kind of stripped down a lot of things. I don’t wear bibs on a casual day. I’ve been going back to my roots, going back to what I know made me strong, which was just being on my bike every day and chilling. Not trying to go to every race, go to every lap session, and keep up with the fast group. That’s not what got me fast. That’s not what got me into this.”

With that said, he still competed in several races in 2025. One of those races was his second attempt at Bombing Down Broadway. “2024, I didn’t do Bombing Down Broadway because I wanted to pay respect to my boy, Cheick. I was just like, ‘I’m not doing that race. Cheick crashed.’ So 2024, I sat that out.” As race day was approaching in 2025, Butta decided to do it at the very last minute. “On my way there I’m just thinking, all the good guys are gonna be there, all the top dogs. I get there and none of them are there. I do see some notable faces, so I’m like, ‘It’s still going to be a good race. It’s still gonna be a competitive race.’”

As the race began, Butta noticed several cyclists on road bikes. “We got some hills. We gotta climb out of Dyckman, so I’m still going to shoot for top 10.” Butta’s fixed-gear bike has a heavy ratio, which makes it more strenuous to get up hills. It’s much easier for a cyclist on a road bike to climb up a hill. “I’m on a hill and the people with the lighter ratios started passing me. I caught back up to them. I’m ten minutes into the race and I’m in the front with two or three other people. I just kept going.”

Once he had gotten into Midtown, Butta felt confident. “I realized I had to win at 47th Street. Shout out to my boy, Roach. We was battling for the first-place spot. There was a time where I was sitting on his wheel, and I just thought to myself, ‘I don’t need to be here. I’m not using it. I’m just here.’ When that thought arose into my head, I was like, ‘I’m gonna win.’”

From Midtown to SoHo, Butta had to maneuver around vehicles and pedestrians carefully. “We cross Prince Street and the walls are closing. As the walls are closing, we got to get vocal. I yelled and I skid right past this one dude, a super close call.” In the section immediately before reaching the final checkpoint at Canal Street, Butta attempted to navigate through intersections as efficiently as possible. “We’re approaching Broome Street and I look ahead. You always got to be 10 steps ahead on the track bike. So, I’m looking ahead and I see that Canal is not yellow. It’s red, but you know, three second rule. I pull out my manifest and I just hit it. I start sprinting. I got to Canal and gave my manifest to Amelia.”

The remainder of the race contains a hill from Canal Street to Worth Street. Butta put forth his best effort to outpace Roach. “I sprinted up that hill, and I’m sprinting the rest of the way. I know he’s not going to be able to match that.” Butta felt confident that his high ratio would enable him to move quicker than other participants on fixed-gear bikes. “I check everybody’s cadence in the beginning of the race. I just start eliminating people. I’m like, ‘Too spinny, too spinny, too spinny.’ I’m just like, ‘You’re not a problem, you’re not a problem. I’m looking at how Roach is pedaling and he’s got more revolutions than I do. He’s got a smaller ratio than mine and if I put down what I need to put down, he’s not gonna be able to keep up with it. So, I was like, ‘I’m gonna do that on the hill.’ Once I got to the top, I took one look back. I didn’t see him.”

Butta pressed on for the final stretch despite feeling exhausted. “When I got to the top of the hill, I was gassed, but I told myself, ‘Stay on it. Pain is temporary. This is gonna be over in the next 20 seconds. Just kill yourself. Go. Throw up your lungs. Who cares? Just go.’” Butta admitted that he was on his last fumes and gasping for air once he finally finished the race and handed his manifest to the final checkpoint worker. “I get there, hop off my bike, and hand him the manifest. I don’t even think the dude knew that I was the winner. I came in mad hot and he was still looking for the person. I’m like, ’It’s me. I’m him.’ He took it and he was like, ‘Oh, alright. Bet.’”

After winning, Butta felt that the reception was mixed because he thinks of himself as relatively unknown to the alleycat world. “My boy, Nemo, gave me a five. He was the only person that said something at the end because nobody really knows who I am. People know who I am, but at the same time, nobody really knows who I am on the alleycat aspect of things. I’m pretty new to it. I only started in 2023. Nobody knows me for winning alleycats.” Despite being new to alleycats, it was impressive for Butta to win it on a fixed-gear bike. “When I got to the end of Bombing down Broadway, it’s usually a road biker. Everybody was like, ‘What the fuck?’ And then my boy Nemo was just like, ‘Yo, let’s get it. Ah ah ah.’”

After the race, Butta had a conversation with racer, Brittany O’Neal. “She’s building to a legend in this racing community. She’s a monster. She’s the top dog right now when it comes to women’s cycling. I was talking to her and I was just like, “It wasn’t really no top dogs there.’ Then she’s like, ‘You got to take those wins where you get them.’ She’s beat the best of the best and then she’s got her regular wins, so hearing that from her just made me feel a lot better about that win. I just do like to acknowledge that the regulars that come to that race wasn’t there that day.” The ultimate lesson that Butta took away from this event is that he is still progressing as a racer and that he currently feels like he is at the top of the B group.

From racing to casual riding, Butta feels like he only feels in control of his life when he is on his bike. “Every decision I make has a direct impact on whether I live or die, whether I get hurt or don’t. “When I’m on the bike, bills don’t matter, the phone bill don’t matter, eating don’t matter. The only thing that matters is staying wheels down.” Butta equated getting through life to racing through intersections. “We deal with an intersection every three seconds. Every intersection is another reason to keep going. We’ve gotten to a point in life where we got to give it a reason. We got to give it a purpose. Getting through every intersection, there’s gonna be another one. You got to get through that one. They’re not going to stop. You got to keep getting through them. When I’m on a bike, nothing else matters other than getting through these intersections. I feel like I’m completely in control. Nothing else is in control but me. Nothing, not even the other drivers. It’s just me.”