In Memory of Dory Selinger, (Cal Beta SAE 1991)
There are some lives that feel almost impossible to comprehend, not because of what was avoided, but because of what was endured, and how someone chose to rise through it.
Dory Selinger lived one of those lives.
I met Dory in 1990, at the funeral of his girlfriend, Valerie Jean Passak. I had been close to Valerie, and in that moment of shared grief, a bond was formed. It was an introduction shaped by tragedy, but it revealed something essential about Dory, his depth, his loyalty, and his quiet strength in the face of unimaginable loss.
Even then, Dory stood out. He was a gifted athlete, a standout football player at St. Mary’s College High School in Berkeley, who had earned the opportunity to play at Cal. But Valerie’s death weighed heavily on him. It changed his path. He stepped away from football and eventually found a new outlet in cycling, channeling his energy into something that gave him both purpose and freedom.
In the early 1990s, Dory helped create the "Oaktown Riders," an Oakland based cycling team. He immersed himself in the craft of the sport, riding custom bikes that reflected both performance and artistry. Early on, he rode frames influenced by the work of Albert Eisentraut, widely regarded as the godfather of modern American frame building, and the creator of the “Oakland School” style. His handcrafted bikes were ridden by elite cyclists of that era and were known for their precision and unmistakable design.
Dory later rode bikes built by SyCip Designs, a boutique builder based in Santa Rosa, founded by brothers Jeremy and Jay SyCip. Their custom steel frames, shaped by a lineage of Bay Area craftsmanship and mentorship, became an extension of Dory himself, carrying him through the most defining chapters of his cycling life.
Then, in 1993, everything changed again.
While riding in a peloton with Oaktown Riders in Northern California, a driver experiencing a psychotic episode drove into the group. The crash killed his friend Vladimir Quinn and left Dory fighting for his life. He fell into a coma, suffered a traumatic brain injury, and ultimately lost his right leg below the knee.
At the time, Dory was living with me, Todd Diehl, Scott Sutch, and Greg Pamp, our Cal SAE fraternity brothers. We saw firsthand what recovery truly looks like, not the highlight reel, but the long, painful, uncertain grind. Most people would have been defined by that moment.
Dory was not.
He came back, not just to live, but to compete, to innovate, and to inspire.
Cycling became his lifeline. It gave him structure, purpose, and a platform. He would help lead Ryan Crissey’s Turbo Velo cycling team, acting as the team’s “spiritual father.” They built not just a competitive squad, but a tight knit community.
What followed was nothing short of extraordinary. Dory went on to become one of the most accomplished Paralympic cyclists in the world, competing in two Paralympic Games and winning multiple medals. At the 1996 Atlanta Games, he did not just compete, he redefined what was possible, setting three world records, including the 200 meter flying start in 12.304 seconds and the one kilometer standing start in 1 minute, 12.914 seconds. He was a three time World Champion, winning gold at the Para cycling World Championships in 1998 in Colorado Springs and again in 2002 in Augsburg. He held numerous United States National titles and, at one point, held every United States velodrome record in his classification.
This was not just a comeback. It was dominance, built on resilience that few people will ever be asked to summon and which has inspired me profoundly ever since.
And he did not stop there.
Dory became a pioneer in the technical side of the sport, working closely with engineers to develop an adjustable socket for cycling prosthetics. That innovation fundamentally changed how amputee cyclists transfer power to the pedals, and it remains part of the foundation of modern Para cycling today. His impact was not only measured in medals, but in the doors he opened for others.
And then, in a way that perfectly reflects who he was, Dory dedicated his professional life to helping others. He became a prosthetist, using his own lived experience to restore mobility, dignity, and hope to people navigating limb loss.
And now, in a cruel and incomprehensible turn, Dory’s life has ended on April 16, 2026 in the same way that reshaped it decades ago, struck by a vehicle while riding his bike. He leaves behind a devoted wife and two children, who were the center of his world.
It is hard to reconcile. A life defined by surviving the unthinkable, taken in an instant by the very force he had once overcome.
But if you knew Dory, you know this:
His story is not about how he died. It is about how he lived.
He endured unimaginable loss. He rebuilt himself repeatedly, like a Phoenix, rising out of the ashes - from it all. He pushed beyond limits most of us will never face and turned chaos into opportunity with a devilish grin. And somehow, through it all, he gave more than he took, lifting others along the way. He built a life anchored in love and ingenuity.
Dory Selinger did not just survive tragedy, he transformed it into purpose.
He leaves behind a family, a community, and a legacy that will not fade.
If you would like to support Dory’s family during this time, please do so here.
And one ask, for Dory: Put your phone down when you drive. Slow down around cyclists.
If sharing the road frustrates you, check that instinct, because the stakes are not inconvenience, they are human lives. Cyclists are not obstacles. They are people, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, out there trying to live well, enjoy our environment, stay healthy, and make it home safely.
Respect the space. Respect the risk. Respect the life in front of you.
Thank you, Dory, for everything you have given this world. You will be deeply missed
- Neal George '90
