An Intro:

I’ve got a confession to make…

I’m pretty much over bikes these days.

And yet, let’s be real… That’s not true. Not even remotely. Because when I project myself into the what I want in life, far removed from the where I am… it is almost always on the bike. Whether that’s travel, leisure, livelihood, or just my ongoing search to find a place that feels like home.

What I am over is the selling of bikes.

And yet… that’s not true either. Because the soul destroying machinations of capitalism aside, when I sell a bike to someone there is (almost) always an overall tenor of mutual satisfaction. Unlike the general ephemera of useless sh*t we like to shove in the hollow places of our lives, the bicycle is always a positive purchase that (even through my jaded lens) I genuinely believe will impact a life for the better.

What I am unequivocally f***ing over… is the bicycle industry.

In our most naive and generous moments, those of us who work with bikes have, at some point, waxed poetic about the bicycle’s power to bridge gaps: To bring together disparate people and span financial, political, sexual, cultural, and racial borders.

The longer I’ve owned the shop, the more glaringly apparent it has become — that… is complete sh*t.

And yet… once again, I have to check myself. That’s not true. The bicycle might actually have that power. It just needs to be pulled from the cold dead hands of those who would, will, and continue to weaponize it.

Liberated, if you will.

Oof. I can already see the sticker. “Bicycle Liberation Now.”

(Sh*t, I probably have seen the sticker.)

But I mean it.

I think a large part of my current disillusionment with the bicycle industry actually comes from my hapless role in it. Because whatever a bike shop hopes or purports to be, and whatever you the reader may think of them, in too many cases we are simply a front-line infantry, both in a million daily skirmishes, and in a much larger war.

Both simultaneously unwitting and very much intentional.

And it’s a war waged on many, many levels.

I’ll start with a simple question: What kind of bike can you afford?

If you were to purchase a new bike today, how much money would you realistically be able to spend?

The most expensive bike that I currently have on the floor is a $5599 full suspension mountain bike. In this particular brand’s pricing tier in this particular model, this is actually just one step up from their “bottom,” which begins at the low low price of $4799. I stock this spec and build specifically because, to my mind, it’s the “best bang for buck.” The best combo of price and quality a customer could get in purchasing a new bike at this level.

So, quick question: do you have $5599 available to spend on a bike right now? Because I sure as f*** don’t.

Some of it can be chalked up to place.

This is Greensboro… not L.A.

Not Austin. Not Portland. Not Boulder. Not Durango. Not Asheville. Not Charlotte. Not even Chapel Hill, Raleigh, or Durham. Greensboro, NC is neither a wealthy nor progressive city. And while yes, I certainly have more than a few customers who have the means to drop $5000+ on a bike, (and I thank them profusely for their business), they are one out of twenty people who walk through my door on a daily basis. Probably closer to one out of fifty. And honestly, probably closer to one out of a hundred. The other ninety nine wander around the shop, take a look at our entry level hardtails priced around $549, and shake their heads in wonder and disbelief. “Damn, y’all got some nice bikes in here.”

So, quick question: do YOU have $549 available to spend on a bike right now? Because I sure as f*** don’t.

I think a lot of us in bike shops like to have romantic notions about what it is we actually do.

Some neckbeard in Bedrocks faces the headset and bottom bracket on a frame that didn’t need that kind of attention, and fondles their own balls about their fine eye for detail.

Or some soulpatch in Crocs builds the most mediocre set of wheels ever and gives their brown-eye a little digit-dig about what a well rounded dilettante of the trade they are. Pun intended.

Or some mullet in momjeans scours the internet to build a period perfect replica of a 1992 Univega Alpina and pretends like it “rips,”…even though it very much doesn’t, and they were literally four years old when that bike came out.

Or some Where’s-Waldo in Blundstones executes yet another straight off instagram “custom build” (think Klampers on a Crust) that comes in just under $4000 and makes a social media post about it being “a really fun project.”

F***ing.

Yawn.

Certainly when I started the shop, 18 years ago, I used to daydream about how cool and fun it would be to step away from boring stock hybrids and focus on being more boutique. Building up tasteful custom Indyfabs and Waterfords. Bringing in some Rivendells. Some Sevens. Ooohhhh… let’s be a Moots dealer. Wouldn’t that be neat-o? Frames starting at $5000?! Ha! No problem!!!

As enthusiasts turned lifers, those of us trying to make a living in bike shops tend to ride a very sketchy skree slope of wanting, liking, and lauding the beautiful and finer things in bikes… and of still being able to understand and empathize with what it is to legitimately not have the means to replace a threadbare tire on a completely clapped out daily rider.

But what really threatens to push me over the edge these days… are the brands.

All of them.

Because they exist in their own vacuum.

Sure, they may have mission statements and propaganda about who they are as a company… sound bites and photo spreads about inclusion and diversity… but they still have no clue or, more importantly, daily f***ing context. As we speak, they are literally at a gravel race telling my one in fifty (ninety) customers how brave they are for riding 100 miles of dirt roads on said brands’ flagship carbon gravel bike. (Starting in the low low $3000s!)

Because regardless of the company, and regardless of the region, in whatever echo-chamber of the industry they inhabit, I can guaranf***ingtee that no one is wandering into their offices forty nine (ninety nine) times a day and shaking their head in disbelief that a bike can cost as much as $549.

Because that’s our job. That’s our role as the shops who sell their product; To be the front line of their current blitz. To be the ones tasked with educating customers about what bikes and service actually costs these days, and being the face that gets to explain that the new affordability in bikes… is simply beyond their means.

Sorry.

And that… is what I am most definitely. f***ing. over.

Bicycle Liberation Now.

or whatever.

(to be continued)