A Street Follows The Moon

 After Thursday's snowstorm, the moon rose

over Crescent Street, of course!

Victims Of The New "Bike Boom"

If I ever get a regular writing gig, it's unlikely to be with The Wall Street Journal or The Economist.  I have, as far as I can tell, no business acumen and I passed the one and only economics class I ever took by promising the professor I wouldn't take another:  He could see that I simply had no mind for the subject.

All right, the story about the econ class was an exaggeration--but only a slight one.  One thing I'm pretty good at, though, if I do say so myself, is observing.  So now I'm going to present an observation I've made that pertains to cycling--and might be of interest to the folks at WSJ and The Economist.

One of the terrible outcomes from the COVID-19 pandemic is that, in the resulting economic free-fall, many businesses have gone under.  While some reporting, mainly of the local variety, has focused on the human costs of people losing their life's work (which, of course, is the real tragedy), the major media outlets have tended to focus on the types of businesses and industries that have been hardest-hit.  They include restaurants which, in many places, were forced to close or operate at greatly reduced capacity for weeks or months.  Also decimated have been clothing retailers and anything related to travel and tourism (think hotels, airlines and such).  During my rides, I have also seen a number of dry cleaners that have closed their doors for good:  People working at home tend not to wear suits, and there's not much reason to wear a fancy dress or gown when there aren't any weddings or graduations to attend.

But the observation I want to make is this:  The economic devastation has not only claimed businesses in certain industries; it has also discriminated by the size of the business.  While some large companies have gone to the dustbin of history, the economic downturn has claimed even more small mom-and-pop businesses.

One such enterprise is Larsen's Bicycles of Powell, Wyoming. For months, media outlets big and small (including this blog!) have been telling the world how the pandemic has been great--almost too good--for the bike business. While sales of bikes and all things related to them have sailed along at levels not seen in a long time, a basic law of economics has come into play:  scarcity.  So, neighborhood shops--and, in some cases, national and international web-based retailers--are running out of everything from handlebars to helmets, brake levers to bike locks--and complete bikes.  

One result has been an increase in theft, from individual bikes on the street to warehouse break-ins.  It's also meant that, because supply chains have been interrupted, those who are willing to acquire their goods honestly have long wait times.

Or they can't get anything at all.  That is what happened to Larsen's.  The only shop in Powell, a small city in cattle-ranching and mining country of northwestern Wyoming, completely ran out of inventory in May.  After they ran out of bikes, Nick and Vicky Coy tried to keep things going with repair work.  When they ran out of new parts, they harvested the good parts from used bikes until those ran out.  Without a solid plan for delivery of new stock, the Coys made the hard decision to close the shop Nick bought from founder "Buzz" Larsen 29 years ago, after four years of working for him.  He and his wife have operated the shop by themselves during that time.   Their last day of business will be New Year's Eve, two weeks from yesterday.

Vicky and Nick Coy, in their soon-to-be closed shop. Photo by Mark Davis of the Powell Tribune.

"It doesn't seem to be getting any better," Nick said. "Nobody can really say whether they're gonna have bikes this coming spring and summer."  Most tellingly, he added, "The whole business model has changed for small shops."

That change, Vicky explained, came about because companies like Specialized like to fill the big stores first. "If you don't have big preseason orders and say you'll take X number of bikes, then you're on the bottom of their list."  Also, she said, "They're selling a lot more parts and accessories online."  For shops like theirs, "The lack of repair parts is huge."

She summed up the result: "It kind of forces out the little guy."  In other words, shops like hers and Nick's are squeezed out.

The current pandemic has magnified the gaps between the rich and the poor, those who can work from home and those who must risk their lives for a paycheck, and between races and genders.  It's also exposed another chasm:  between conglomerates and small businesses--or, in this case, companies like Specialized, with their bicycle showrooms in urban and suburban areas, and rural shops like Larsen's.

Behaving Myself Before A Blizzard

I was on my best behavior during yesterday's ride.

It had nothing to do with my surroundings or the discipline it took for me to climb the same hill (short, but fairly steep) six times in a row. It wasn't even a matter of pretending not to notice when a woman, driving in the opposite direction, stared at me during my fourth climb.

It also wasn't related to the fact that atop that hill sits the mansion that once housed one of Astoria's most prominent citizens--or that, just a couple of blocks away, he made pianos used in concert halls all over the world.  (If my behavior were related to that, I'd've worn a tux or gown.) Or that those pianos--Steinways--are still made on that same site, in a newer, larger facility.

My restraint also had nothing to do with my passing by the entrance to the bridge leading to Riker's Island--which, by the way, you can enter only by bus or in an authorized vehicle. (No bicycle is authorized.)  I tried to ride to the Island once, on my absolute best behavior, and was turned back by someone who was not amused.  But I digress.

Perhaps I behaved myself because I don't know when I'll be able to ride again.  Oh, I know that day will come;  I just don't know when.  You see, I was getting that ride in before the snowstorm that began late yesterday afternoon.  

I felt that storm coming:  As I was circling around to my third or fourth hill climb, I felt the wind off Long Island Sound.  My behavior would not have stilled that wind, or changed the trajectory of the storm that would leave us with a foot of snow.

So why was I so well-behaved?  Perhaps it had something to do with this:

I mean, a whole truck of Superego--parked along the path of my ride!  How could I not behave myself--or, at least, conform to prevailing social norms, even if nobody was there to see it?

Well, at least there was an answer two  questions I never asked:  What if Freud had gotten into the trucking business?  And what trucking company would Donald Trump never, ever use? (As best as I can tell, the election-denier lives entirely, and has tried to govern, by his id.)

I remember when the old mail-order bicycle company Bikecology changed its name to Supergo.  When I saw the first catalogue with the new name, I misread it as "Superego."  It may have had something to do with just having taken the first of my two college psychology classes. But I digress, again.

Really, though, I behaved myself during yesterday's ride.  Really!