By Jim Towers, M.J.A., J.D.
They are painted white so you cannot pretend you didn’t see them.
That is the whole design. No plaque from the city. No historical marker. Somebody strips an old bicycle, paints every inch of it, frame, spokes, seat, tires, and chains it to a pole near the spot where a cyclist went down and didn’t get up. Then the neighborhood takes over. Flowers show up. They fade. New ones replace them.
I have photographed 7 of them in the Heights.
This one is at Heights Boulevard and East 8th Street. David Leon Loya Jr. was 23, a student at the University of Houston-Downtown, riding home in the bike lane on March 7, 2019, when he was struck by an HISD school bus. His photograph is zip-tied to the top tube. He’s smiling, a dog beside him. Someone hung a tin heart that says LOVE YOU, and a rosary. At Easter, someone left a painted egg. Orange construction fencing sags behind it now. The neighborhood is still building around him.
Not every bike tells you as much. On this one, the name tag has weathered past easy reading. Pink peonies on the handlebars and seat post. A smiley-face bag hanging off the hydrant next to it. Holly scattered in the grass, left over from Christmas. Someone keeps coming back.
This one carries two white ammunition cans where saddlebags would go. I don’t know what’s inside, and I didn’t open them. Some things you leave alone.
Someone took the time to string yarn pompoms around both wheels of this old Huffy. That is not a gesture you make in a hurry. That is hours of work for a person who will never ride it.
[Planter bike]
Not every bike chained to a pole in the Heights is a memorial. A few blocks over, a mint-green beach cruiser stands at the corner with its baskets planted full of salvia and greenery. It’s yard art. It’s what a bicycle in this neighborhood is supposed to be: a little rust, a little whimsy, something alive spilling out of the basket.
Put the two side by side and you see what a ghost bike really is. It is the same object, with everything living painted out of it.
[Wide shot]
Eighteen of them. On the boulevard, on the side streets, on mounds of mowed grass under power lines while new apartments go up behind them. Most people drive past without slowing down.
That is exactly why they are white.
— HHI
Photos: Jim Towers / Houston Heights Independent
ATTENTION ASSIGNMENT DESKS & MEDIA PRODUCERS:
All text, video, and original photography covering this story are the exclusive property of the Houston Heights Independent. Broadcast, digital replication, or social scraping of these assets without an active license is strictly prohibited. To license clean, high-density, unwatermarked frames for TV broadcast or regional news print, contact our newsroom immediately, at houstonheightsindependent@gmail.com. or 210-288-3034. Standard licensing fees apply.
© 2026 Houston Heights Independent. All rights reserved. Registered under Jim Towers MJA.JD. No part of this publication, including text, layout, and original photography, may be reproduced, distributed, broadcast, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the Editor-in-Chief. For media licensing inquiries or syndication requests, contact at houstonheightsindependent@gmail.com. or 210-288-3034. Standard licensing fees apply.
HOUSTON HEIGHTS INDEPENDENT
Houston Heights Independent covered this story on the ground. HHI is a civic journalism publication operating on the Murrow standard.
