Life in a Bike Store


Slavery is an ugly smear on this countries soul. Slavery sucks period. Being related to the formerly oppressed, this is my view. I guess over time, most groups have been some other groups bitch. A gentleman came into the store and the conversation went from the rolling attributes of a 29 inch wheel to African Americans not being allowed to marry. The bike shop turned into the barber shop within a few short minutes. This gentleman tried to come at me about my knowledge of black history. Dude, I’m not entertaining that shit. In the bike shop, I answer questions about the sport to the best of my abilities. I love to learn about the different people we have come through our doors, but dude, I ain’t touching that. I don’t talk shit about the holocaust or the goings-on’s in the middle east either. I can, but politics are touchy subjects and touchy subjects can turn a pleasant visit into a pointless envoy between two peoples that were cool, but now dislike one another. Also bad for sales…Whatever repressed shit you have going doesn’t involve me.

Grimy Hands After Closing

Certain unfortunate circumstances come with any trade. If you’re a cop there’s a chance you could get shot, if you’re a bartender there’s a chance you could become an alcoholic and if you’re a professional athlete you could be penniless long before the pressure in your urethra dips from a “force of nature” to “farce of nature”. I work in the sales part of the store. I smile pretty, provide my wisdom’s and try to streamline a consumers needs. I work with machinery in the form of bicycles, hence the title of this piece. Grimy shit comes with the territory. During the hours of my shift, I don’t care as it is expected. I try to avoid an overly icky bike. People have a little respect. Wipe that shit off. Road grime is to be expected, but cobwebs and god knows what else? Ick!

After my shift is done and my sights refocus to family and beer. Keep it simple and hoppy. I don’t want any grime. Customers trickle in at all times. Before we open, after we close, probably on the days we are closed as well. I been that guy that gets to a store right as they are closing and the asshole points to the closed sign. That’s a real dick move, but hours are hours. Because of that guy, I open the door and explain that we are closed. If someone needs a quick fix and looks pathetic enough, I soil my hands. Again, I’ve had that same pathetic look. The price is dirty hands after hours. Just a peeve I guess.

Made in America

I love to hear people ask me where a bike is manufactured. Its an asshole question honestly. We both know that more than half the shit in this country is not of this country. Check your portfolios. Like the results your company is delivering to you? If they produce anything, guess where it’s being made? What’s better is when they follow that asshole question with pulling up information off their Samsung. I play along. I like games…

So a bike is made in a country that we bombed the shit out of. Is their revenge, a challenging shift in its Tiagra line? We raped and pillaged did other ill stuff in another country. Is their revenge a boss that’s not machined right? Americans make shitty stuff too. Wherever the hell a product is made, as long as there’s pride in it and at 50mph the thing doesn’t disintegrate between my legs, keep cranking em out. Any company worth their weight in carbon warranty their stuff. Any shop that values their customers will do everything in their power to make their experience as pleasant as humanly possible, which means selling quality product.