Chicago Bike Blog

Getting to know your bicycle

By guest writer Angela Chan

I remember the first time I learned how to fix a flat, about 5 years ago.  I used to see bicycles as mysterious machines, believing I had no place trying to fix anything on it.  I knew the very, very basics--how to fill my tires with air, and remove the wheels and seat.  I’m not sure I even knew there was a tube inside the tire. 

I didn’t know there was such thing as chain lube, so when I figured out the squeaky noise was coming from my dry and rusty chain, I used vegetable oil to get the squeak out (which I don’t recommend at all now!).  After repairing my first flat, I felt great.  My hands hadn’t been so dirty since art school and they kinda hurt from getting a tough tire back on the rim but I didn’t care.  I didn’t have to go out of my way to a bike shop, I saved some money, and it was rewarding and fun. 

Bicycle maintenance classes are now underway at Rapid Transit Cycleshop.  And I think I speak for myself and my co-workers, when I say that we’re pretty excited to share our knowledge with those wanting to learn. So far, we’ve done classes on basic repair, complete tune-up, wheels and brakes.  We’ve had great students who are willing to learn and ask lots of questions.  

But truthfully, we would love to see more students.  If you love your bike, I do think it’s beneficial to learn how to assess its condition  I still use the assessment techniques I learned from a class years ago, and they have been invaluable.  Recognizing that there’s something wrong early on prevent a more costly repairs down the road, and, most importantly, might prevent you from getting into an accident. 

I know not everyone wants to get their hands dirty, or maybe some of you don’t have the time or inclination,  and prefer to let a professional does the work.  That’s fine too.  Even if you ultimately decide not to work on your own bike after a class or two, you will surely have  gained a better understanding of how your bike works, and more appreciation for the work your bike mechanic does to keep it running smoothly. You’ll be supporting your friendly local bike shop, just like I support the sewing machine or vacuum repair shops.

If you’re new to bikes and want to learn but don’t know where to begin, the Free Roadside Class is a good start.  We’ll demonstrate some basic repairs, assessment techniques and offer up some tips about winter riding.  And did I mention it’s free? 

If you’re a little bit more experienced or ambitious, and are willing to shell out a little moola, the focus classes and tune-up classes will allow you to work on your own bike more intensely.  Winter is great time to learn how to work on your bike, whether or not you ride through the cold season.  If you don’t, you’ve got several months of working on your skills and tinkering to get your bike in tip top shape for the Spring.  If you do cycle through the cold and snow, your bike will need the most attention in the Winter. The salt, moisture and the potholes that pop up throughout the winter take quite a toll on bicycles.  

For me, fixing that first flat was a revelation. 

It was a similar feeling that I had when I first biked (after not cycling for 6 years) with my boyfriend from his place in Lincoln Square to Working Bikes—about an 8 mile trip.  I had realized that there was really no place in the city I couldn’t get to by bicycle.  And with my first flat fix, it occurred to me that, potentially, there was no part of my bike I couldn’t work on.  I was looking forward to getting to know my bicycle.  I’m not a mechanic, but 5 years later, I’m proud to say that I’ve worked on every part on my bicycle, including building the wheels.  I can’t believe the amount of appreciation and respect I’ve gained for this humble machine since my first flat fix. 

We invite you, too, to get to know your bicycle. The complete class listing and schedule is posted on the shop's website, at www.rapidtransitcycles.com. 

Angela Chan is a Sales Person at Rapid Transit Cycleshop.

It's time again for the Winter Tune-Up

This year, we have revamped our Winter Tune-Up a bit. The new Winterbike 2010 is a complete, season-long maintenance program for your bike. When you join for a one-time fee of $155, you will receive:

Our Deluxe Tune-Up

• Full adjustment of braking system,
• Full adjustment of shifting system.
• External adjustment of both hubs.
• External adjustment of headset.
• External adjustment of bottom bracket.
• Complete wheel dishing  & truing.
• Complete drivetrain cleaning or replacement (as needed).
• Chain lubrication.
• Inner tube replacement (if needed.)
• Tires inflated to correct pressure.
• Full check of parts and accessories to ensure safety.
• Free installation on additional accessories purchased from us.

INCLUDED ongoing maintenance through March 31, 2010

• Full bike wash and lube, as often as you wish
• Adjustments and tuning whenever needed
• Free labor on fixing flats
• Free labor installation of parts and accessories purchased at Rapid Transit.

Since we and our staff need to eat, all rubber, parts & accessories are extra, however, this year, as a Winterbike 2010 member, you will also receive a 10% discount on any merchandise purchased through March 31, 2010.

If you are planning to ride this winter, you really can't afford not to get this service. It is the best thing going in Chicago for winter bikers. And, the earlier you sign up for the program, the longer you get to enjoy its fabulous benefits.

If you thought you knew what we do...

Many years ago, perhaps at the very dawn of mountain biking, a friend from college an I were on a hiking trail on Pike's Peak in Colorado. We didn't have very ambitious hiking plans, and we stopped frequently along the way to observe, take photos, and eat snacks. During one such stopover, we were passed by a cyclist struggling up a steep section of trail. We remarked penetratingly that it must be very difficult pedaling up like this. He replied that he would not have undertaken the climb on foot, because he was an amputee. He lifted up his pant leg to demonstrate the prosthesis.

If I knew little about life without a limb then, I do not know any more today. But I know that as a bike repair shop, we are sometimes called upon to modify existing bikes to suit folks living with artificial limbs. One of our earliest customers, who has since passed away, had been a competitive bike racer, but lost his legs to diabetes. We adapted a Raleigh step-through bike for him to ride around the neighborhood. He explained that there are few local and reasonably priced resources for people who have lost a limb, but wish to stay strong, active and independent.

Like Sean Plomann. A couple of  months ago, I asked Ronnie at the shop to come and help me deliver a bike to him. I asked Ronnie to come along, because I knew the bike would need some modifications, and I didn't know if I could handle it myself. As it turned out, I would have been way out of my league. Sean greeted us at the door with a cane and no left leg.

He spent a little time putting on his prosthesis, while Ronnie and I set the bike in the trainer we had brought along. Even with the trainer, Sean had a little trouble balancing the bike when he first got on. He explained that once he started riding, he could learn to make appropriate adjustments to his balance without the weight of his left leg.

The bigger problem was that the thickness of the artificial foot with the shoe on it prevented it from staying securely in the pedal. We had anticipated that Sean' foot might need some retaining device, but the Powerstraps we brought along pushed his foot too close to the crank arm, so that every time he pedaled, the crank arm actually rubbed against his foot.

I was at a loss, but Ronnie seemed confident that the pedal could be modified to do the job properly. We left Sean with the bike and the trainer to practice what he could, while Ronnie set to work at the shop on creating the pedal adaptation.

Sean was 12 when he developed cancer. He went through chemotherapy for a year and a half, but continued to suffer for about 17 years. He walked with a cane, and eventually developed nerve damage which caused him extreme pain. He had the leg amputated 3 years ago, relieved to end the pain he endured. After going through physical therapy for about a year, he is now ready to move forward. And to ride his bike, despite being told it couldn't be done. Speaking for myself, having seen Sean fight for balance that first day on a trainer, it took a leap of faith to believe he could ride on his own.

But Sean knew what he was talking about. With the modified pedal being the only alteration to his otherwise stock Dahon bike, he participated in Bike the Drive last month. Although this year, after a mere couple of months on his new bike, he was only able to complete half of the ride, he doesn't see any reason why he should not be able to do the whole thing next year. He hopes that this undertaking will help encourage other persons with disabilities to pursue physical challenges, by showing that it can be done; and demonstrate to those in the non-disabled community who think otherwise, that persons with disabilities can accomplish such challenges.

Outside of cycling, Sean is Master's student in Disability Studies and Human Development in the field of Applied Health Sciences. He also has a graduate assistantship at UIC working for the Chancellor's Committee on the Status of Persons with Disabilities (CCSPD). He hopes to finish his Master's degree and then go on to earn a PhD so that eventually he can teach. Meanwhile, he's is trying to become more involved with organizations that promote disability rights, such as Access Living and Chicago ADAPT.  He hopes that through activism and advocacy he can contribute to creating a vibrant community of persons with disabilities as well as trying to help build better communication and relations with the non-disabled.

The T-shirt Sean is wearing in these photos was created by his friend, Annie Hopkins, who is now deceased. The back of the T-shirt says "Embrace. Educate. Empower": embrace diversity, educate your community, empower each other.' It's distributed by www.3elove.com.

It's been very gratifying for us at Rapid Transit to work with Sean, and playing a small part in helping him achieve his dream of independent travel.

Dream of independent travel

You probably often walk into your local bike shop for quite prosaic reasons. Maybe you need a tube, or you need the drivetrain cleaned, or help removing the frozen seatpost, or pedal, or bottom bracket. And we help you out with that, because that's what we are here for. But if our job description read "removing stuck parts from bikes", life wouldn't be very exciting for us, and chances are, you'd receive mediocre service.

Rapid Transit Cycleshop is often described as the "urban" or "commuter" shop. I'm not sure that this does justice to what we actually do. What we did set out to do is to enable cyclists in Chicago to use their bicycles in ways that they envisioned, without judgment or intimidation. We wanted to participate in their vision. We have also always felt that transportation was a viable and appropriate use for the bicycle. And it simply happened that in a dense urban area like Wicker Park, there were quite a few people whose vision of the bicycle included transportation.When we opened the shop in 1994, we felt that much of the bike industry at the time, including bike companies and bike shops, were unresponsive to urban cyclists' needs, so we eagerly stepped in to fill the niche.

Perhaps the urban image that has grown up around us also has to do with our name. We deliberately called ourselves Rapid Transit, because we felt that bicycles were at least as sensible and efficient at public transit. For many years, we also used the tagline "We're Chicago's Transportation Alternative". Although this further played on the idea of comparing ourselves to the urban transit system (playing on the abbreviation of Chicago Transit Authority), what it meant to us, is that we offered folks who wanted to cycle real alternatives.

A bike, of course, is an alternative to a car, or train, or bus, or traveling on foot. However, we also felt that there were very few alternatives for the cycling public among the offerings of local bike shops. We wanted to change that. We were not after defining what a cyclist should be. We wanted to open up the possibilities of what he or she could be.

For example in 1994, with one Vision R40 in stock, we became Chicago's first recumbent bicycle dealer. Every year since then we have expanded or fine-tuned our recumbent offerings, and currently stock several brands and configurations of both recumbent bicycles and adult trikes. These are not traditionally considered "urban" bikes, yet a number of our customers use them extensively on the streets of Chicago.

For several years, we tried unsuccessfully to incorporate folding bikes into the mix. There simply were no US manufacturers or distributors who were set up to sell folders through a dealer network. Fortunately, several years ago that changed, and we now offer a selection of models from several different manufacturers, that give cyclists travel options simply not available with a standard bike.

Over the past fifteen years, we have seen many trends in bikes come and go. No one type of bike can fill the needs of a huge and diverse cycling population: not hybrid, not recumbent, not folding, not fixie, not road, not mountain, not Chinese, not even Dutch. Thus, we offer many different bikes, because there are many different kinds of cyclists.

Recently, we had a chance to revisit our old tagline, and really think about what it means. What does it mean to be Chicago's Transportation Alternative? It's not just who we are and what we offer. In fact, that's only a small part of it. What really matters is what you want, and how we can help that come about. Why do you want to bike? What are your dreams?

We noticed that many people coming in to look for a bike, to repair a bike, to get back on a bike, to find a different, more appropriate type of bike, were looking, in some measure, for freedom, autonomy, intependence. Freedom from traffic, from stress, from the city, from the car, from gas, from illness or injury, from convention, from routine. They expressed a desire to escape, in bigger or smaller ways, from something that was limiting or holding them back.

And our job, the way we see it, is to help them realize their dreams of independent travel.

The other side of the counter

By guest writer Sam Van Dellen

One of the things that's helpful in life is the ability to see things from the point of view of someone else. If you are a bicycle consumer, chances are you don't often get to look at bikes from the point of view of someone in the bike industry.

So here are some things from the other side of the counter about bikes, bike shops, bike shop employees, bike companies.

Let's start with bikes and the companies that make them.

A bike's a bike.  Bicycle manufacturer is a bit of a misnomer. Any bicycle with a brand name you recognize probably comes out of one of a small handful of factories in the Far East.  Thus, Kona, Trek, Marin, etc. are more properly called "bicycle brands". They commission the factories to manufacture bikes for them according to certain specs.

These different companies will have different ideas of how a bicycle should fit, or what parts are more important to spend more money on: some emphasize frame materials, or the components, or perhaps comfort features. But basically, any number of bikes in the range of money you are willing to spend will represent a comparable value, and quality, and work well for you. 

Bicycle companies are in the business of making money by selling bikes, so of course, each one is trying to get you to buy their bikes. This is not a bad thing.  The more bikes they sell, the longer they stay in business, the better bikes they can produce, hopefully getting more people on bikes in the process.

One of the ways they try to get you to buy their bike, instead of one built by another company, is to specify high quality parts for the bike in the places where it's important or that you will notice, and put lower quality parts where it's less important or noticeable. They do this to keep the cost of the bicycle at a "price point" which research has shown customers commonly are willing to spend.  Again, not a bad thing in and of itself, although sometimes they end up going cheaper on some things than they should.

In fact, in some cases companies specifically put on the cheapest reasonable item because they know customers have strong preferences, and will replace those items anyway.  So, the company can pack more value into the bike by skimping on, say,  tires or pedals.  The tires that come on your bicycle will be ok for a while, but it's assumed that you'll be replacing them before too long with something you or the bike shop employee helping you has found is the best for your purpose.  Higher-end bicycles often come without pedals, as most people who have been riding long enough to want a fancy bike have a specific style of pedal that they want to use, and rather than put something on that they'll just end up selling or trading in, they short-cut the process.

What does this mean to you when you are shopping for a bike? Don't focus on the brand, as much as on how you plan to use the bike. Discuss that with your salesperson, and let him or her guide you toward a bike that has put the most value into those features that will provide the greatest benefit to you.

Which brings us to: bike shop employees.

When you walk into a bike shop, you probably see a bunch of bearded, tattooed guys that look scary (and maybe cool?) and you may feel uneasy or intimidated.  In reality, they're not scary at all. You need to trust me on this: I work with these guys every day. They are probably friends you haven't met yet, who love bikes and want to share that love with you.  They are delighted to see you. You help make sure they get paid. They probably are cool in the sense that they care, not in the sense that they feel superior to you. If you're going into the sort of shop that has your best interests in mind, they want to help you get on the best bike for you.

I'll tell ya too, your needs for your bicycle are probably not the same as anybody else's, and a good salesperson or mechanic understands that.  They're really going to ask you a lot of questions and use your answers to get the best bike for you. 

Another thing you should know is that bike shop employees do not work for a bike shop for fabulous wealth. It isn't there to be had. The real reasons people work at bike shops are love of bikes and love of people.  You can't stay sane if you're doing it for any other reason, at least in a shop like Rapid Transit.

So on to the bike shop itself. 

There are all sorts of shops, so it makes sense to shop around a bit. And I don't mean price. While there are always places to get a cheaper bike, it's really important that you are aware that there is more to a bicycle than a price tag.  I cannot stress enough the importance of proper assembly and maintenance of a bicycle. Take the time to find a shop that takes initial assembly and follow-up maintenance very seriously. Ask if they allow test rides, what kind of service they do after you buy the bike and what hoops they'll make you jump through to get it, what sorts of things should you expect from your new bike, that sort of thing.  If you're feeling pressured to buy something, you should probably leave.

Some shops are better at what they do than others. Some are more focused on the sale than the relationship. In my opinion, this is not really what you want in a bike shop. If you plan on having any kind of relationship with your bike, you better plan on having one with a bike shop, too. At Rapid Transit, when you buy a bicycle, you're entering into a new, hopefully fantastic relationship with your bicycle, the shop, as well as the employees.  

Sam Van Dellen manages the Service Department
at Rapid Transit Cycleshop

Around the clock service

By guest author Sam Van Dellen

Some of you may not be aware that Rapid Transit's purpose, first and foremost, is to get people on bikes, especially bikes they love, because we love bikes. 

In order to do this successfully year after year, we need to make money and stay profitable. How, in this economy, can we do this? Well, getting bikes under their owners in the shortest amount of time possible while giving amazing quality of service is a good start. We've been working on that for years, with varying levels of success.

This season, we're trying something new.  Our shop doesn't really give us enough room to do a ton of repairs at once, and with bikes coming in the door all day long (which is great) it's hard to give a consistent level of service.  We are not prepared to do off-site assembly or repairs, as transporting bikes around between locations greatly complicates everything, uses gas (generally) and leads to the much higher likelihood that bikes could be damaged.  So, in the space we have, how do we get more repairs done? 

Well, traditionally our repair stands are empty when the shop isn't open, so the owners suggested that we use the the stands then. After all, we pay the rent for that time too.

Well, following months of meetings, scheduling nightmares, discussions over coffee, discussions over beers, etc., we're doing it!  We now have mechanics who can work in an uninterrupted, quiet (mostly) place.  This allows for faster, higher quality repairs and assemblies, which, in turn, enables us to  handle walk-in repairs during business hours MUCH more efficiently. 

What this means for the customer, is that currently anything that does not require special order parts or the attention of a specific mechanic, is generally done within 24 hours of walking in the door.  Typical summer turn-around at a bike shop ranges from one to two weeks for most repairs.  Our objective, as the season ramps up and we get busier, is to keep that turn-around time, including special order parts from our main vendors, to less than a week. 

So far, the chilly weather has been helping us: we've had time to train people and practice. But what we really need is for you, our customers, to help us test our limits by bringing in as many bikes to be repaired as you can! We can't promise yet that we'll be able to continue our 24 hour turn-around, or even a week, as the season heats up, but we can promise that we will do what we can to get you back out enjoying your bicycle as soon as humanly possible. 

In order for us to keep you all riding as much as possible, our open hours are staying the same, yet our repair staff will be working before and after hours. If you see us through the windows during non-business hours, be aware that we have the gates locked and registers closed because we are committed to doing what it takes to complete our current repairs for you as promised.  So please, bring in those bikes, and help us help you ride your bike at its finest!

Sam Van Dellen manages the Service Department
at Rapid Transit Cycleshop

A question of trust

A while ago, one of my closest friends was looking for a bike, a little comfort hybrid to ride around with her kids. She read some Consumer Reports, and had an idea of what she wanted. Her husband had purchased several bikes from us, so she came in to look around. She didn't spend much time, was vague about her needs and unwilling to try any bikes. She left, and bought a bike that we carried from Dick's. Ouch!

Another friend remarked during a recent visit, and with no malicious intent, that she buys stuff online, because you can't trust salespeople; they're always trying to sell you stuff you don't need.

A third friend related her experience about purchasing some specialty equipment online: she contacted an outfit that advertised the best prices, got pressured by the phone sales person to make a purchase, felt duped and cheated, and insisted on returning the order. She subsequently made a purchase through a trusted vendor, who offered good expertise, asked key questions to find out what she needed, and offered a fair price.

As consumers, we want to get the best deal. We are trained to distrust salespeople. It's easy enough to buy shoes, or books, or Legos anonymously. But technical equipment is another story. We don't want to feel dumb, yet we want good advice. Reading product reviews and talking to friends can be good starting points. But neither is very objective.

Though frankly, objectivity isn't really what you want. Neither is good advice. What you really want is for someone with some expertise to guide you toward making your own subjective decision. And for that, you have to open up a bit, and trust someone.

It's difficult to put yourself in the hands of an expert, especially one who works on commission. Our staff at Rapid Transit Cycleshop do not work on commission. There are two main reasons for this. One is that rather than creating a conflict of interest between the salesperson and the customer, we want the salesperson to look out for the customer's best interests. The other reason is that the salesperson is only one person in the chain of events that brings the quality product to the customer. The entire staff, from the product buyer, to assembler, to the mechanic who checks the bike and takes care of the follow-up service, the manager who has trained the salesperson to uncover the customer's needs, everyone contributes to the process of putting the right bike in the hands of the right cyclist.

Do we get everyone to trust us? Certainly not, as illustrated by the story of my friend. Commission or not, we obviously still want to make the sale. But here's the thing, we don't want the sale at any cost, because the sale is not the end of the line. Rather, the sale is a begining of a relationship with a customer, and we want that relationship to be based on trust. 

Maybe that's too touchy-feely for some people. Perhaps they prefer that anonymous experience of buying a bike from a megamart. But if you're going to take biking seriously, you have to get a little touchy-feely with your friendly bike shop, or at least a friendly bike shop employee.

So how do you find one?
Go into a shop, and ask a few questions. Do they work on commission? Do they ride bikes in the way that you do? Do they sound like they are willing to answer questions?

If you've walked into the right bike shop, the conversation should change after you've covered some preliminaries. Now, they should be asking you questions. Whether you've walked in with no idea or a very specific idea of what you are looking for, the staff should try to learn more about your needs to help you explore the possibilities.
What was the last bike you rode?
How long have you had it?
What about it did you or did you not enjoy?
How much did you ride in the past?
How do you plan you use the new bike you will buy?
Are there any specific features that you need in a bike?

If they point you to a bike without having asked a single question, keep looking.

Why learn what we already know?

Whenever we travel to the annual bike expo or other industry events, we have an opportunity to better ourselves by attending workshops on variety of topics, from business finance, advocacy, industry trends, staff training, to merchandising. Because we have attended many such events over the past fifteen years, and have seen many of the same speakers, we know which workshops we can safely skip. We know which speakers address primarily the concerns of shops located in suburban shopping malls. We know which ones think of bikes as simply expensive toys or trophies. We know who thinks of bike shop staff as a bunch of body-pierced underachievers, and of customers as gullible suckers to be picked up by their ankles and shaken free of their money.

And then, there are those workshops which somehow manage to help us learn something new, no matter how many times we attend them. Workshops like Brett Flemming's on optimizing the operation of the bicycle service department. Brett himself runs the service department of a large six store operation in Portland, OR, called the Bike Gallery. I know he will hate me for telling you about him, because he is one of the most modest and unassuming people I have ever met. But, if you want to know more about him and his accomplishments, you can click here.

There are so many reasons I like Brett as a spokesman for the profession of bicycle mechanics. He has clearly been one for many years, and has the bike grease under his fingernails to prove it. Consequently, there is never a hint of condescension in his tone. Indeed, he is passionate about raising the profile of bike mechanics everywhere, and often talks of belonging to a "noble profession".

And, maybe most importantly, after many years in the bike industry, I feel his views on the whole affair are very closely aligned with mine. At the beginning of some of his presentations, he will say: "At this point in the game, I just don't care much about bikes. I care about what bikes do for people. I care about what they do for our customers, and I care about what they can do for us. It's an awesome, virtuous business to be in, the bicycle business." As we sat around in our living room a couple of months ago, watching this presentation on video with some of our staff, I realized that we had to get Brett into our store.

And here he is. Sitting on one of our display bikes, busily taking notes. Taking notes on us, on who we are, and what excites us about bicycles. "Anything, anything at all," he nods encouragingly.

And we go around the circle, one and all, mechanics, sales people, managers, and we too, the owners, answering the question. And, remarkably, it turns out that what excites us is not the "stuff". Some of us are excited by the freedom that bikes offer: freedom to travel, freedom from fees and taxes, freedom from gas, autonomy to move whenever fancy strikes. Others describe it as a continuation of a more sustainable and responsible urban life. Other like the simplicity of bikes, and their adaptability for various types of use. Still others love to hear peoples' stories, solving problems, and being let in on customers' secrets of why they bike, or why they don't and why they would like to, and being part of helping them realize those dreams.

On the surface, we spent those hours with Brett discussing systems. How to write up repair tickets more effectively. How to prepare more thorough and accurate estimates. How to schedule repairs and arrange the service area to maximize efficiency and minimize turn-around time, while maintaining quality control. We also talk about customer relations. We share stories of drawing out reluctant customers. Of diffusing potentially tense situations. Of the dangers of making assumptions or drawing conclusions before we've asked some key questions. We even talk about appearances. Why is it important to put a bike in the stand before proceeding with an estimate. Should mechanics' area be visible, or invisible to the customers. And why we should remove scotch tape from our windows.

But what we're really talking about is more visceral. And here, I think, is the answer to the question Brett repeatedly asked me and Chris before he left: have I provided value? We have felt from the beginning, even before he arrived, that the value would only partially come from the advice and the wisdom of experience from many years of running a successful operation. We had hoped that the real value would come from our staff rallying around the idea of making Rapid Transit better. 

We had not quite counted on the degree to which Brett intuitively recognized the intrinsic value and quality of our staff, and fell into step with them. Our exchange validated the work that we do as being worthwhile. It gave credence to the idea that it is OK not to be indifferent, but to care genuinely about both the work you do, and the person you're doing it for. It allowed us to see that in helping our customers fulfill their dreams, we are, along with Brett, building a useful, valued and noble profession.

Some people of the bicycling industry

Selling bicycles, especially in a city with distinct and temperamental seasons, like Chicago, is a highly cyclical business.

We get unceremoniously shaken out of our winter slumber by the throngs of cyclists who one day simply decide that biking season has arrived, and who continue their relentless onslaught from the early days of spring right through the hottest weeks of summer, and sometimes even into early fall. Then they forget about us for a few weeks.
That violent assault, however, has the unintended result of making our bike shop staff extremely cranky, if not downright surly, by sometime in August. It also makes the shop itself a rather sorry sight, as if a dog had chewed it and decided it wasn't to his liking.
We are truly in sad shape.
And, believe it or not, what recharges our batteries every single year, is the trade show. Yes, we find solace, release, even inspiration, in the annual bike extravanganza known as Interbike, and, though we complain, we dutifully travel to Las Vegas every September, where we talk too much, eat too much, drink too much, and sleep to little. And then, after returning to Chicago, we use the winter time to slowly rise, like the phoenix, from our own ashes, and re-create ourselves as a fully functioning bike shop to face yet another season.
What about Interbike has this amazing power?
It's not the stuff. It's never about the stuff.
Sometimes the stuff represents ideas, but these ideas come from people. And meeting people, people who live and create bike culture, from all over the country is what we go to the trade show to do.
People like Laura.

(Laura is lightyears ahead of me in cycling footwear)

Chris was hanging out at a vendor booth, filling out some forms with my name, when a woman happened to glance over his shoulder "That wouldn't be Justyna who writes the Chicago Bike Blog, would it?"
(wow! someone knows me!....)
Turns out that Laura used to work in a bicycle shop in San Diego. Customers, especially "non-cyclists", used to love to come and see her there, because she, well, essentially, she treated them nicely. She didn't treat them like "customers" (ie. people on the other end of a deal).
She aksed them about their needs and concerns, about their fears and their dreams. She explained to them the terminology that other bike shop personnel took for granted. With frankness and empathy, she discussed issues like pain, weight, fitness level, saddle comfort. Through simple dialog, she began to dispell their fears, and lift the veil on their dreams.
It turns out, that perhaps the middle-aged, slightly heavy woman, did not see herself tooling around on a comfort-hybrid on a Sunday afternoon. She dreamt of leaning over the handlebars in a sleek jersey, cruising for miles on an open road. The athletic guy in a baseball t-shirt didn't want to jump boulders in the woods. He wanted a simple bike he could ride one-handed to the ballpark along a quiet neighborhood street. The student in torn jeans didn't want a cheap fixie. He was planning all aspects of an efficient commute to his new job at a law firm.
Unfortunately, Laura's boss did not share her enthusiasm for finding out about people. He wanted her to sell bikes. Only he called them "units". Laura wanted to solve problems, and to build relationships; he prized the sale of a "unit" today, over the value of a lifetime of loyalty.
So Laura left, and went into business for herself. And I wish her great success, because she has a lot to offer.
But it makes me a bit sad. Sad for the shop owner, who may have missed the opportunity to make his business extraordinary. We, as bicycle shop representatives, are at the forefront of bike culture in our communities, and have a genuine opportunity to shape that culture. If we really expect new people to come to cycling and embrace it as part of their lives, we have to make them feel at home at a bike shop. We can't bombard them with technical details or overwhelm them with products before we have extended the courtesy of learning a little bit about them.
For heaven's sake, let's not "convert" them. Let's listen to their questions, concerns, ideas and fears. Let's not translate their needs into dollars, and immediately turn them into Customers.
Let's earn their trust, and see if they'll tell us their dreams.

Rapid Transit Cycleshop offers new discount to CBF members

In observance of National Bike Month and the upcoming Bike to Work Week, we are stepping up our CBF discount program. We will be enticing card carrying members of the Chicagoland Bicycle Federation with special perks.
Now through June 15, 2008 CBF members can enjoy:

• 20% discount on any merchandise, excluding bicycles
• $30 off on the purchase of any adult bicycle
  
• $20 off on the purchase of any child or youth bicycle

During the rest of the year, CBF members shopping at Rapid Transit still get a pretty darn good deal:

• 15% discount on any merchandise, excluding bicycles
• $25 off on the purchase of any adult bicycle
• $15 off on the purchase of any child or youth bicycle

These standard discounts are available to any current member of CBF, and apply to regularly priced merchandise in stock or on special order.

If you do not belong to CBF, sign up here, and you too can enjoy the benefits of membership.