Black Friday And Why I Didn’t Start My Own Shop

 In earlier posts, I mentioned that I worked in bicycle shops, as a mechanic, assembler and salesperson, on and off from the mid-1970s until the mid-1990s.  For about four years, in total, it was my “day job;” the rest of the time, I worked during school breaks or “in between jobs” (translation: when I was otherwise unemployed). 

Although I mostly enjoyed my experiences, they are also the reason why I didn’t open a shop of my own when I had the opportunity.  Oh, most the customer interactions were pleasant:  People are usually in a good mood when they’re buying bikes or accessories and happy when you can fix whatever was ailing them (the bikes, I mean). But the business side of it is another story.

One shop in which I worked had, like most good shops, a mechanic (or, at least someone who understands quality bikes) as a proprietor. His “silent partner,” however, was cut from a different jersey material. He had been a customer at a shop where the head honcho worked and was duly impressed with his skills and ambition. So, he fronted the money the shop’s “owner “ needed to open.

He was a nice enough guy. (Full disclosure: He did a couple of fairly significant favors for me.) But he made most of his money on Wall Street because, as he said, he was “good with numbers” and, as he admitted, “had a bit of luck sometimes.”

For all of his business and actuarial acumen, he simply could not understand why, as  busy as the shop was, the return on his investment was so small. A few years after I last worked in that shop, he “pulled the plug” and the mechanic/proprietor’s dream didn’t last much longer.

I would have been in a similar situation had I taken up an offer of “seed money” to start my own shop. The person who offered it wasn’t even a cyclist, let alone someone who understood the bike business. She simply would not believe that the wholesale price of a $700 bike (which, at that time, was “upper middle class”) was around $500. I didn’t even get to explain to her that a shop would have to pay someone like me to assemble it—and rent, utilities and other expenses that are part of running a business.

I thought about that experience a while back, when I came across this article:  “Why big outsider companies (almost) always fail in the bike business.”

Among other things, automotive, tech and other capital-intensive companies don’t understand dynamics like the one I described, or much else about the bike business. For one thing, it’s composed of much smaller companies and dealers than, say, BMW. Speaking of which, cycling doesn’t have “prestige” brands like the aforementioned automaker or Cadillac—or “crossover “ names like Nike that straddle the line between sports attire and fashion. While some bike companies offer nothing but junk and a few make small numbers of high-end and custom bikes, most offer a range of models at different price points. So when someone tells me, for example, that a friend has a Cannondale or Trek, I ask, “Which model?”

Also, as the article points out, customer’s preferences in one business don’t necessarily translate into bicycles. As an example, people interested in “power” sports or vehicles (like speed boats) aren’t necessarily interested in bikes, or even e-bikes.

So why am I discussing the “weirdness” of the bicycle industry today?  Well, I’ll bring you back to the “silent”’ partner of the shop where I worked and my would-have-been partner, who wouldn’t have been so silent. Those small-to-non-existent profit margins are the reason why you won’t see, comparatively, many bicycles on sale today, Black Friday.  And most of the bikes that are marked down are lower-end models: Paradoxically, the more expensive bikes have smaller margins, percentage-wise.

So, if you are looking for bike-related bargains today, you’re more likely to find them among accessories and apparel. The latter is likely to consist of “leftovers “ (I couldn’t resist a Thanksgiving pun!), as retailers are looking to move this (or last) year’s merchandise to make way for new stuff. So, you might not find the size you need or the colors and designs you prefer.

The Cloud Over Black Friday

 

Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day in the US.  Today is “Black Friday,” the unofficial  start of the Christmas shopping season. Online as well as brick-and-mortar retailers offer “sales” on popular items.  Too often, “sale” prices aren’t much, if at all, less than what people  can find without much trouble when they aren’t pumped up with  Black Friday hype. That’s why I don’t participate in the spectacles that, too often, seem like the running of the bulls when store doors open and throngs of shoppers charge through .

The concept seems to have spread beyond this country’s borders and shores—and to online retailers.  The bike business seems to have been pulled into it—by necessity, some industry insiders argue.  The COVID pandemic Bike Boom seems to have gone “bust:” After the shortages of bikes and anything related to them that caused some shops to close in 2020 and 2021, remaining distributors and dealers stocked up as soon as merchandise became available again. But the demand of the peak pandemic year’s didn’t continue: People who thought about cycling during the lockdowns abandoned such thoughts when gyms and other venues re-opened. Oh, and whatever economists (or TV personalities who play them on Fox News and CNBC) tell us about a “robust” economy, many cyclists (including yours truly) don’t have much spare cash or even credit.

That said, there are good deals to be had.  Even if I were swimming in green, however, I don’t think I’d be shopping: I have what I need (at least when it comes to cycling) and I don’t want more things. Most of all, I don’t want to follow the imperative to “buy until you die.”

A Black Bike On Friday?

If I were to buy a folding or collapsible bike, there are two I would consider:  Brompton and Bike Friday.

 BF is holding a special sale for today, Black Friday.  They boast that they offer "2 colors of black."

I have a question:  If one were to order a bike in either shade, would he/she/they have a black Bike Friday?  Or a Bike Black Friday?

Just askin'.

Black Friday Bicycle Haiku?

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that one of my passions is for poetry.  I love it as much as I love cycling.  Well, maybe I love them equally.

(Does that sound like what we say about our "significant others"?  I love you even more than my bike...he said with crossed fingers.)

Anyway, I've been reading and writing poetry for a long time.  One thing I haven't done in a long time, though, is to write a  haiku.  In fact, I'm certain that I've never written one:  I mimicked the structure, but did not capture the essence of, the iconic Japanese mode.

That doesn't mean, though, that I'll try to stop others from doing the 17syllable/3 lines thing, even if it's in the service of capitalism--or the bike business, anyway: 

On the YouTube page for this video, Clever Cycles, the company that posted it, invited viewers to ponder this eternal question: "Who says poetry doesn't pay?"

Hmm...Maybe I should start writing Black Friday haiku, even if it seems almost oxymoronic.

Happy Black Friday...hmm, that seems pretty oxymoronic, too!

My Annual Black Friday Rant

As if we don't have enough orgies of consumerism!

Now, I am not going to get all self-righteous on you for not participating in the one that took place today.  I am referring to this thing we have here in the US called Black Friday.  


This day is premised on this notion:  Consumito ergo sum.  Or Shopito ergo sum.  Which would Rene Descartes find more appalling:  This spectre of gluttony--or my Latin?

It seems that BF became an "event" or a de facto holiday just before "reality TV" and "selfies" came along.  Somehow I think that BF is the prototype of both:  It's one of those things people do to say they are:  they are part of this time, this place, this culture.  It's like leaving an "I was here" graffito, and is just as ephemeral:  The moment that credit card transaction is approved and the flat-screen TV or whatever is brought home, the moment, the fact of having been there, means nothing.  

A Black Friday "bargain....

I guess none of this should surprise me when I recall that all of those so-called journalists are really nothing more than cheerleaders for one grotesquerie or another:  an invasion, bad behavior by a celebrity or an "election" in which people vote--if indeed they vote--for one candidate only because they have fueled with enough hate, or simply disdain, for the other candidate.

Of course, I don't mean to blame what Black Friday has become on journalists, any more than I blame them for wars, natural disasters or even Kanye West and Kim Kardashian.  They--most of them, anyway--are products of the same culture that gives us Kanyashian and selfies and Black Friday.  Therefore, they have learned to do nothing more and nothing less than what others have learned:  You validate yourself (or at least feel that you're doing so) by promoting yourself, buying stuff or getting other people to buy stuff. 

...and another

And that stuff almost never includes quality bicycles.  Or, if it does, they are buying a brand because they heard somewhere that it's the "best" brand--or it simply happens to be en vogue.  Almost any bicycle purchased on Black Friday comes from a "big box" store, will be under a Christmas tree in four weeks and in a landfill in four years, if not four months.  The excitement of having gotten a "great deal" on it will have long passed.

Getting Away From The Second Black Friday

Some people referred to yesterday as a "second Black Friday."  Yesterday was the day after Christmas and BF is the day after Thanksgiving.  So, people went shopping--or, more precisely, pushed and shoved each other to get bargains they believed to be awaiting them.  

Of course, there were some differences.  The Black Friday phenomenon is repeated every year, while Round Two, if you will, is possible only every few years, when the day after Christmas happens to fall on a Friday.  Also, the post-Christmas shopping frenzy is fueled, in part, by people who are returning or exchanging gifts and are enticed to shop for other things.

One thing both days have in common is that, on both, I avoid the retail ruckus (which has been known to plunge into full-blown riots) that has become part of them.  Instead, I choose calmer and more meditative activities, like tea with a friend, reading and writing, playing with my feline family or, of course, a bike ride.

Today's spin took me down to Rockaway Beach.  Even though cirrus clouds swirled the clear sky and light winds blew mild air in the directions of waves that lapped lazily against the sand, only a few people found their way to the beach.  I suspect they are of a similar mindset to mine:  Although I did not converse with any of them, some of us exchanged smiles and glances that told me everything.  And,  yes, we wished each other a happy holiday.

Black Friday Bicycle Shaped Objects

"Toys come in boxes.  Real bicycles come assembled and ready to ride."

I don't remember who said that.  I'm guessing it was the proprietor or a salesperson in one of the bike shops in which I worked.  And I'm guessing the proprietor or salesperson was admonishing someone who brought in a department-store bicycle for assembly or who tried to assemble such a bike and made a bad thing hopeless.

I'm recalling that bit of wisdom, if not the sage who imparted it, because today is Black Friday.

For those of you who are not in the US, this day--the day after we give thanks and exchange heart-warming stories (or get into fights) with people with whom we would not sit at the same table at any other time--and give thanks for, well, whatever.   This is the day on which stores--mainly the big-box variety--run "sales" on some of the worst junk imaginable, much of which will end up under Christmas trees four weeks later and in landfills four years--or even four months--later.

The boxes full of stuff meant to be assembled into bicycle-shaped objects are among the sale items I'm talking about. One of the "big-box" retailers--which, thankfully, does not have a store anywhere near me--has offered, on each of the few Black Fridays--a "freestyle BMX" bike with pegs and helmet for $49.99 and boys' and girls' 20 inch bicycles for $29. 

If you're a vegan,  bear with me for a moment as I use an analogy most people (Americans, anyway) will understand.  It's scarcely possible to get a steak dinner, let alone a good one, for $29.  Add drinks and dessert and you'd be hard-pressed to keep the tab below $50.   At least, that's the case here in New York.

Now, you might be thinking that buying a cheap bike for a kid isn't such a bad idea because he or she will trash or outgrow it within a couple of years.   Or you might be on a tight budget (Trust me, I understand!) and are shopping for a few kids or grandkids.  I don't have kids or grandkids, but I understand the joy in seeing a kid's eyes light up on Christmas morning.  (I've experienced it with my nieces and nephews as well as the children of friends, if that counts.)   However, I'd think about what I'm teaching kids when I give them disposable junk.  

More to the point, though, I'd be concerned about giving a kid (or anyone) something that's potentially unsafe.  In bikes, as in most things, you get what you pay for (up to a point, anyway).  Cheap bikes are made cheaply, from cheap materials.  Now, if I were buying such a bike for a kid (which, of course, I wouldn't), I at least have some residual level of skill as a mechanic and could at least ensure the bike is properly assembled.  However, not everyone who buys such a bike can make such a claim. Nor can some of the "mechanics" employed by some stores that offer assembly.

If you were to bring such a bike to a shop to be assembled, you'll pay enough for the service that it, combined with the price of the bike, will total not much less than the price of  a bike shop bike.  Shops don't charge what they charge out of spite or to gouge customers:  Proper assembly and repair (which bikes in boxes sometimes need) takes time and therefore costs money.  And a mechanic in any bike shop worthy of the name wants to take the time to do it right because the shop's reputation rides on the work done in it.

So...If you really, truly, must participate in that orgy of consumerism called Black Friday--which has been likened to the running of the bulls--don't buy a bike, especially one for a kid, in a big-box store.  If you're a regular reader of this blog, I don't have to tell you that.  But you might want to tell your less-informed (about bikes, anyway) friends and relatives what I've said--or pass along this post.

Black Friday Bike

I did the Black Friday store circuit twice--once on my bike.  Neither time was worth the effort.  I guess I didn't go early enough in the morning or shop for the right stuff.

It seems that bikes and books don't figure much into BF sales.  A few online retailers had sales on one thing or another for today.  I guess I've become jaded: I didn't bother to check them out.  Bricks-and-mortar bike shops and book stores (the independent ones, anyway) don't seem to participate in the madness. Maybe that's one reason why I love them.

I'll admit that, just for fun, I typed "Black Friday bicycles" into a search window.  The first few entries featured Bike Friday machines.  I've met a few owners; all of them raved about their bikes.  If I were shopping for a high-end foldable bike, I might consider them--and, of course, Brompton.

My search also yielded, among other things, this:

From The Top Christmas Gadgets Gift Guide

It's an Exerpeutic Folding Magnetic Upright Bike.  Doesn't it just sound like something someone would buy on Black Friday?

The Cycles of Black Friday

No, I didn't go to any of the "Black Friday" sales today.  To me, they're like New Year's Eve in Times Square:  something to be done once, to say that you've done it.   Yes, I've done both.  No, I don't intend to do either again.


The simple explanation is that I don't like being among the BF or NYETS crowds.  Actually, I don't like being among crowds generally.  So what am I doing living in New York, you ask.  Well, I live in the Big Apple precisely because I don't like great masses of people, just as I became a writer and teacher because I was, and in some ways still am, shy.  No, I'm not being cute, contrarian or Zen.  Actually, I never have been any of those things, and Zen is the only one of them I have even the remotest chance of becoming.  But I digress.


It goes something like this:  the more I like people--well, some individual people, anyway--the more I dislike being among masses of them.   And the more I live with and by my shyness, the more I find to say and the more I have the need to say it.  Likewise, the more I enjoy shopping, the less I like to be part of the throngs who are hunting bargains.


All of this has to do with what led me to a lifelong passion for cycling.  When I first started to take long rides and realized that I would benefit from a bike with gears, pedaling while astride two wheels when you were old enough to step on a gas pedal and accelerate four wheels was still something of an act of rebellion, at least in the US.  Also, counterculturism and consumerism were still seen as antithetical to each other:  Birkenstocks weren't yet a brand, or at least a consumer tag.  I still believe that good consumer choices might save you money, but they're not going to save the planet.  I also realize what a position of privilege it is to be able to make choices according to a company's "carbon footprint" or to be a locivore.  Maybe that's the reason I never was a liberal and never will be a hipster.


Anyway, I have my own bragging rights.  I once moved myself from one apartment to another entirely on my bicycle.   Black Friday shoppers, including the one in the photo, had nothing on me(!):