MUSIC with a techno beat is wafting through the air in a warehouse straddling Glasgow’s Finnieston and Yorkhill. Nothing unusual in that as the area is now so fashionably bohemian that you almost expect all warehouses here to be pop-up dance venues rather than distribution centres for manufactured goods.

No one is dancing though, and the light, airy warehouse has rows of bicycle wheels and tyres sticking out from the walls as though enthusiastic cyclists had tried to ride through the partitions from the other side and got stuck.

Tables below the walls are strewn with bike parts in a haphazard fashion as visitors tentatively push them around or pick them up for a second glance.

There are push-bikes everywhere. Not the high-end thousand pound cycles of the truly devoted road racing cyclist, but the kind of bike you jump on to go down to the shops. There is nothing flash here, which is probably the way the organisers want it.

Here in Haugh Road, across Argyle Street from Kelvin Way, is the Glasgow Bike Station, a charity which is endeavouring to change the travelling habits of Glaswegians. It started five years ago in the Barras with the simple idea of taking in donated bikes folk no longer need, fixing them up, and selling them on. Bike Station bikes start at £70 to help people on limited budgets to get back on the saddle.

They outgrew the Barras and moved to bigger premises in Finnieston not knowing at the time that the area was going to become so shabby chic.

The charity’s objectives are helpfully written on a blackboard as you walk in. The first simply states: “Encourage and promote good mental and physical health through cycling as a means of transport.”

Richard Andrews, event coordinator at The Bike Station, is, as you can imagine, a bike enthusiast. The physical improvement you can do by cycling is obvious of course, but Richard is keen to talk up the mental health it can bring as well.

He explains about the rhythm of cycling freeing up the mind, the change of scenery bringing mental satisfaction, and the camaraderie of meeting other cyclists. He might even have used the word “zen” at some point, but he is not some dreamy idealist. Although The Bike Station is now based in an area of hipsters and gourmets, it wants more than anything to reach out to the people of Glasgow’s housing schemes.

It runs community outreach programmes which are essentially bike classes in community centres, schools and other halls in the more disadvantaged areas. It is attempting to convince people that cycling has not simply become the preserve of the middle classes who can afford to go out at the weekend on expensive bikes while wearing garish Lycra.

As Bike Station literature explains: “Our various projects teach, train, inspire and encourage people to get out on their bikes – whether it’s learning from scratch or taking the step to commute to work for the first time. Improving the environment we live in and the health of our fellow Glaswegians is our ultimate aim.”

There are training lessons for all ages and abilities, split, says Richard, equally between kids and adults. The adults might be learning to ride for the first time, or just brushing up their skills and confidence after not putting foot to pedal for decades.

It is not simply for recreation. In the outlying estates of the city, having a bike can ensure you get to work without huge expense. You can buy a decent bike, second-hand for £100, and with your monthly bus pass coming in at £40, it soon pays for itself.

The Bike Station has a popular Dr Bike service where you can have your cycle fixed and checked over. There are classes teaching you maintenance and you can hire equipment if you just want to come along and fix your bike yourself. There are always enthusiasts about to give advice.

It’s back to that mental health thing. “People like to share the joys of cycling,” says Richard, “and are keen to pass on their knowledge whether it’s about repairs, clothing, routes to travel, or how to ride fast on pavements. No, I’m just joking about that last one.” The cyclists at The Bike Station seem a nice bunch.

The reason for the warehouse being so busy at the weekend was a jumble sale as Bike Station backers like to recycle old parts as it is good for the environment.

There is a water bowl for dogs at the front door which is always a sign of friendly people inside, even though dogs and cyclists are not always comfortable with other.

Illustrator Chris Watson, whose cycling cartoons adorn posters and T-shirts, has a stall at the jumble sale. He says the busiest time at The Bike Station is September, when a fresh wave of students arrive in Glasgow and want to buy cheap second-hand bikes.

“The sort of bike they can lock up knowing it’s not going to be stolen,” says Chris. He explains that high-end bikes can sometimes by sought by thieves in vans carrying bolt-cutters. They won’t go to the bother for a cheaper model.

Richard admits that the weather is often the reason why folk are not sure about cycling to work, but as he stoutly maintains: “I can’t remember the last time I got soaked cycling.” It must be that zen thing playing with his memory.

Out on the main floor a middle-aged gent, attired in normal clothing, is trying out a bike with his wife’s encouragement.

He looks as though the sofa has been his leisure equipment of choice in recent years but, after sitting astride a bike or two, he buys one and heads outside to pack it into his car.

Next weekend he will hopefully be out on the road, feeling good about himself, which will make The Bike Station feel good as well.