For a long time Doug Horner, right, co-owner of Ordinary Bike Shop, 311 E. Seventh St., relied on bicycling for transportation, and didn't own a car. Here he examines customer Allan Bentkowski's 10-year-old bike, which Bentkowski plans to ride to work during the summer months.

Ron Medvescek / Arizona Daily Star

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The sign says "ordinary," but the store is anything but.

Doug and Jenny Horner, owners of the Ordinary Bike Shop, stole the name from an old bike store in their native Iowa City that's now out of business.

"I just liked it because we're kind of ordinary people," says Jenny.

But there's a double meaning to it; "ordinary" bikes are the old-fashioned high-wheelers with the huge front wheels and tiny back ones, also known as penny farthings.

The Horners pay homage to their namesake with two ordinary bikes that are propped outside their store on Seventh Street just off North Fourth Avenue. And yes, the staff does actually ride them.

Inside, though, there's nothing old-fashioned about the selection of two-wheelers, tires and accessories. Although they do trade-ins and sell some used bikes, most of their business is in brand-spanking-new ones.

The Horners began their business 12 years ago as a bicycle repair business with occasional sales of used bicycles.

Two years ago they moved from a smaller store farther up Fourth Avenue, where "we got so cramped it'd just be a complete traffic jam," says Jenny.

This airy, hangarlike building has a large garage-door opening which allows customers to just cycle straight in; there's also a traditional door at the front.

It's a happy place, despite the serious repair work and earnest bicycling discussions. The staff banter with customers, asking them about their bike trips, while the Horners' two young sons are sometimes found tearing around the shop floor, trying out some of dad's new buys.

Doug has always been a cyclist; he built his own version of a mountain bike before mountain bikes were even born. And part of his business today is still "custom recycling" — revamping old bikes to customers' specifications.

The range of bicycles is vast, from little-girl pink ones with streamer-covered handlebars, to 30-gear racers that fetch up to $2,000.

And added to the mix are some throwbacks, like a '70s-style Raleigh chopper for $250. And there's the line of giant, retro-looking bikes from Electra, in flower-power patterns and day-glo colors. "They're styled after the old cruisers from the 1930s and 1940s, but with better paint jobs," says Doug.

For those who think bike helmets and a water bottle constitute fancy accessories, the Ordinary Bike Shop is there to teach us just how far we've come.

There are gadgets that tell you speed and mileage, shoes with slots for lock-in pedals, special cycling sandals with air vents and molded heels, locks that look like handcuffs for Godzilla, and hydration packs — basically water bags with a feeding tube — that can fetch up to $80.

But the aim here is to serve everybody, whether serious cyclists or folk who're happy making a two-mile round trip to class or work.

Cycling has been making Doug happy for the last 20 years (for a long time he didn't even own a car). As he sees it, the more people who cycle — even for a short time — the better.

Cyclists tend to be happier, healthier and, he says, "unique individuals." Which would explain some of the quirkier finds here — like the horn squeezers shaped like sumo wrestlers.

Go figure. But on your bike, if you please.