Though she only moved to Nashville last year, May fits in remarkably well with the burgeoning crowd that calls for greater sustainability, efficiency, and environmental conservation. Her voice is now one among the chorus of cyclists crooning for more bike lanes, safety, and education. And she’s not just a biker. Although she loves her two-wheeler, more often, she’s riding her Copenhagen tricycle, outfitted with a large, hot pink and white crate that rides on the front. And did I mention she can bake, too? Today, she crafts miniature fruit pies, subtly sweet oatmeal bars, and tender french pastries then pedals them around town to farmers’ markets, events, and even 12 South’s Halcyon Bike Shop. May Cheung is single-handedly starting the food trike revolution. It didn’t happen overnight. In fact, just a few decades ago May Cheung’s family was living the constraints of an overpopulated city with little opportunity. Sitting over a cup of coffee at Bang Candy Company, May describes her childhood, when she shared a tiny room with her sister, grandmother, and another housemate. She laughs, remembering the lack of space, privacy and money, then flips her long shiny black hair behind her shoulders. She doesn’t seem phased. Her Cantonese accent is slight, but apparent, and she reclines in the high-top seat naturally. Her smile is white, wide, and plentiful, and when it starts raining, she asks politely if she can move her bicycle inside (she chose her two-wheeler that day). She’s easily excitable with a vivid laugh and bright expressions. May is tall and physically fit, which isn’t a surprise. Baking is labor intensive. So is triking. “My parents were really hard workers,” May explains, respect and love evident in her careful tone. She shares that at the start of World War II her father’s parents fled from mainland China (and the invading Japanese) to Hong Kong. He later became a police officer—a job he kept for 30 years before relocating his family to America. “Perseverance and dedication, I guess that’s what I took from my parents.” In 2001, after the United Kingdom returned control of Hong Kong to China, Cheung’s family moved to Virginia. At the time, May was 13, and only knew Cantonese. “It was pretty hard and I was really nervous about speaking,” May says, reflecting on her high school days. “I really didn’t have courage to try and make friends, be-
cause I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to articulate well. Making friends was tough.” By the time she reached Virginia Commonwealth University, May was more comfortable in her own skin. She was studying Health and Exercise Science when she rekindled her love for baking—something she’d done as a child, but had never quite mastered. In Richmond, she landed a job at Montana Gold Bread Company, a local high-volume bakery, and quickly realized how difficult the work would be—hot ovens, heavy trays, early mornings mixing, kneading, sweating. At home, she began experimenting with goodies, mostly cupcakes, and became addicted to the process. “Baking is a job that requires a lot of focus,” May says, slowing her words slightly and breaking into a grin. “When I see people enjoying what I’ve made, and I see their faces and expressions when they’re eating something they really like, it makes me so happy.” Suddenly, May’s senior year of college, her plans to continue baking were brought to a screeching halt. She’d just gotten off of work, and was riding her bike home. The truck turned to the right—he never saw her. Striking her elbow and sending her to the ground, the truck’s crushing weight left her with broken ankles and a mangled bike. Somehow she made it to the hospital and spent the next several months in a wheelchair, desperate to recover, striving to walk again. Today, May still has purple and red scars across her right ankle, and internal injuries in her left one. “It’s not that bad anymore,” May says, laughing. “It was on that bike right there.” She points to her repaired bike with pride. After months of recovery, May’s motivation and persistence led to a miraculous recovery. She wasn’t concerned about the physical pain and every day she’d get up and try to push herself a little bit harder. Ultimately she got back on her feet, and back on her bike. Around the same time, she completed a monotonous nine to five internship in her last semester. “It was so boring,” May says emphatically. “Not even boring, it was mentally draining. When I got out of there, I didn’t feel inspired anymore, I’d lost a sense of purpose.” As boring as it might have been, the office job she hated gave her time to daydream. Knowing she simply could not walk back into a stifling cubicle, she chose instead to start her own venture doing something creative. To make a living, she decided to sell her home
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