As Paul Reeves cruises around the corner near Saint John's Peel Plaza on his new bike — made almost completely out of wood — there's an unmistakable smile on his face.

Built with wooden spool tops for wheels, and with kitchen-chair handlebars and seat, the bike isn't for sale.

It's to say thank you to the people who have helped Reeves in times of need.

Reeves said he's lived in Saint John for 58 years.

"I've had some good days and some bad days. People have been good to me in this city," he said.

"This is one thing I can do to show the people and thank the people."

A mechanical mind

The Saint John cyclist has been tinkering with bikes ever since he was a child and needed parts for his own ride.

Crafting "Recycles" has been a lifelong project.

Paul Reeves said his wooden bike is to say thank you to all the people who have been there when he needed it most. (Joseph Tunney/CBC)

The idea, like the bike itself, came in pieces. Initially, he thought wooden wheels would be a novel idea.

When he put the spool tops in the 28-inch rims, it fit perfectly.

He said it expanded from there.

"This seat had been sitting in the living room," he said, pointing at the maple-coloured rear of the vehicle.

"I was going to cut the wood out of it to make a chair, [but] the seat convinced me to come along for the ride."

A former crane operator, Reeves describes his mind as mechanical.

"I like how machines and parts work together," he said.

"Sometimes I can see a piece someone else calls junk and I turn it into a bicycle."

At the same time, he describes himself as someone who feels deeply, which is why he won't place a price tag on the wooden wonder.

A tour of appreciation

After previously suffering bouts of poor mental health, this week Reeves has been cycling around the city, visiting people who have been there for him when he needed it most.

Paul Reeves said he initially thought wooden wheels would be novel and then expanded from there. (Joseph Tunney/CBC)

It's a sort of tour to show the appreciation. A show of where he is, as opposed to where he's not.

"Everyone has ups and downs in their lives," Reeves said.

"I'm real happy to be alive. I'm not in Brenan's [Funeral Home] and I'm not in the hospital. Those are the people who can really complain."

As he drives through the city, he sees the smiles of those he pedals past, he said, which is what moves him forward.

As he speaks, a woman approaches, asking if she can take a photograph of Reeves and his bike.

And later, as he drives down Charlotte Street, people in cars turn their heads as they pass by.

"Having people appreciate this is [worth] $1 million," he said.

"People ask me if the bike's for sale, I say, 'No, because then I couldn't enjoy your smile.'"