Not Making Money In The Bike Shop? Blame Schwinn, He Says

 When I worked in bike shops, friends and family members couldn’t understand how I made so little money when bikes cost so much.

Mind you, that was when few bikes had four-figure price tags, let alone the five-figure tags attached to some of today’s machines.

I would try to explain that small local shops didn’t make much profit—and, as often as not, none at all on bikes themselves, especially high-end bikes.  For one thing, it’s expensive to run a shop:  To do it, you need a lot of space, which is pricey in any good location for a shop. Then, a shop needs fixtures specifically for displaying and working on bikes, as well as tools and machines.  And a shop owner has to pay to keep the lights on—and keep the tax authorities happy.*

On top of all of that, the shop has to have inventory, as some shop owners learned the hard way during the pandemic.  In pre-pandemic times, some bikes could sit in display racks for months, or even years.  That wasn’t as much of a problem back when, say, one year’s Peugeot or Raleigh wasn’t so different from the previous or following year’s models, and component manufacturers stuck with the same designs for decades. But the bicycle industry now follows the planned-obsolescence business model that prevails in other industries, like the automotive.  That means a bike that doesn’t sell at full retail price by the end of the season has to be significantly marked down if it is to sell at all.  Because of the planned-obsolescence model, some manufacturers don’t allow retailers to return bikes, and penalize dealers for not meeting sales quotas.

The business model I’ve described gives bike companies a lot of power over shops, especially small ones.  Among other things, it gives companies like Specialized and Giant the ability to mandate the amount of merchandise shops must purchase, and at what price.  It also gives those companies the ability to control retail prices.  That is why you won’t find much price variation from shop to shop among models from the major brands—except, perhaps, during end-of-season sales, which usually involve the extreme sizes and colors that weren’t popular.

What all of this means is that when dealers have to pay high prices and are told they can sell at a price that yields a relatively small margin—from which they have to pay the costs of running a shop—they have to keep those costs down wherever they can. As often as not, that means low wages for shop employees.

In times past, shops made most of their money from repairs or accessories, helmets, clothing, shoes and gloves and, to a lesser degree, from parts.  Now, though, most of those items are available at significantly lower prices from online retailers.  One shop owner lamented that people came to his shop to try on shoes and helmets they later bought online.

According to Ray Keener, who’s been in the bike industry for about as long as I’ve been alive, one bike manufacturer had much to do with making the current situation.  

To people under 40, Schwinn is just another bike brand sold in Target and Wal-Mart. But, for three decades or so after World War II, it was the only American bike marque with even a pretense of quality.  This gave it the power—upheld in several court cases—to control, not only prices, but what shops could and couldn’t sell.  This, he argues, also effectively gave Schwinn the ability to depress bike shop wages.

And that is why the Bicycle Industry Employers Association’s guarantee of a $32K annual income to mechanics who complete their training can be touted as progress, even if it’s not a living wage in most American cities!

*—Sometimes, there are also “unofficial” taxes—like the one by a waste-hauler who told the owner of a shop I patronized, “You will use our services.”

They're Uniting With The Other Airlines

 What do World Airways, Tower Air, Air India, Pakistan International Airlines, Delta, Air France and KLM have in common?

Well, they have (or had, in the case of World and Tower) many of the same destinations.  Oh, and I've flown them all.

World and Tower no longer exist.  Delta, Air France and KLM have become part of the SkyTeam group, but they were separate entities when I flew them.  And, although I've taken Air India and Pakistan International, I've never been to either of those countries.  I flew them because, until nonstops were available, flights from the US to India or Pakistan stopped in Europe.  With the demise of World and Tower (and other low-cost airlines like Laker), that became the cheapest way to get to Paris.

All of those airlines, though, had this going for them:  They didn't charge extra to fly your bicycle--if it was in a box or bag that didn't exceed their size regulations (Bike boxes from shops fit the bill!), and as long as you didn't exceed the allowed weight.  The boxed or bagged bike counted as one of your pieces of checked luggage--of which, as I recall correctly, you were allowed two, weighing a total of 32 kilos (about 70 pounds)--in coach/economy class, no less.  Since I travelled (and still try to travel light), I never came close to the weight limit.

All of that, of course, was before 9/11.  Then airlines used "security measures" as an excuse, not only to increase fares, but to slap all manner of surcharges on to the final tab.  Bikes were considered "oversized" or "security risks," were charged as much as $200--each way, in addition to "oversize" or "excess weight" fees.  Some airlines didn't allow bikes at all.

Now, thankfully, things are starting, however slowly, to return to what they were two decades ago. United Airlines has just announced that it's ending its $200 surcharge for bikes--something competitors Delta and American did recently.  Perhaps more important, the oversized-bag fees are also being waived for bicycles.  But whatever you check in still has to fall within the airline's weight limits:  23 kg (about 50 pounds) for economy class, and 32 kilos for business or first class.

Better still, United doesn't have some draconian mandate regarding how the bike is packed.  The airline even says that boxes of "durable cardboard" are permitted as long as they have "plastic foam or similar protective material" inside them.  Perhaps best of all, United doesn't seem to be excusing ham-fisted or crooked baggage handlers, saying only that the company isn't liable for "checked bicycles that are not packed as described."  

While United is making it easier for us to travel with our bicycles, it still doesn't allow e-bikes of any size or weight on its aircraft.  I suspect this prohibition has something to do with fire hazards.

The Waterfront, And Echoes Of Shell

Yesterday, I wrote about last weekend's varied rides.  Not only were the locales and sights different on each ride; so were the bikes I rode.

There was also variation within the rides, as there always is.  As an example, my Friday ride took me into Brooklyn and included two utterly different neighborhoods.

The metallic hues of New York Bay and its piers, docks, towers and bridges formed the vista of Red Hook

where one bridge rims the curvature of the earth, while another doesn't go far enough.

A few miles inland, a post-industrial streetscape stands a few blocks from where I grew up, at the edge of Borough Park, now one of Brooklyn's two major Hasidic neighborhoods.  

Change, however, can't seem to efface old identities and purposes:

Tell me that wasn't a Shell station.

I was tempted to check out the convenience store.  Perhaps I will if I take another ride out that way.  Whether or not they're different, I hope it doesn't sell sushi:  There should be a law against selling it any service station convenience store.  

But at least one law says it's OK for folks who'd shop in a place like that to eat sushi.  According to every interpretation of Halakhic law I've read, sushis made with vegetables or raw fish comply with Kosher dietary laws.  I don't imagine, though, anyone who likes sushi, whether or not they follow any religious edicts about food, would eat sushi from that place!

By the way, I had vegetable enchiladas after the ride.