I heard a rumor today that a bike shop in a nearby town, known to specialize in mountain bikes, was planning to relocate to Wolfeboro. The owner of our shop is wondering how that will affect us.
Back in the 1990s, we withstood the attack of relentlessly undercutting competitors. That was when I noticed that competition is not really good for consumers, as we had been taught to believe. Competition weakened all the competitors, so that customers had less selection and less competent help. Our shop survived by preserving margins and performing top quality service. It didn’t hurt that we had a couple of mechanics who were smart enough to figure out how to work on the avalanche of new componentry, but dumb enough to keep trying to live on bike mechanic wages. The riding public in Wolfeboro was very well served in that time, especially when the biggest undercutter put itself out of business, and freed us up to stock more goodies.
At the time, there were mountain bikers and there were roadies, but they weren’t quite poles apart yet. Cross-country mountain bike racers were training on road bikes for aerobic fitness. But the subculture continued to evolve. The industry, fully committed to the drug dealer model of consumer marketing, kept spawning new categories to narrow the segments of the market and deepen the bite that could be taken from each addict’s wallet.
Around the time our latest looming competitor opened up in the next town to the south, the mountain biking subculture had already dismissed us as outsiders. Without even dropping by to see if we could be brought up to speed, our few remaining mountain bike customers went to the new guy.
I’ll admit outright that I had lost interest in mountain biking. None of the new equipment entices me to reconsider. The category concept really crushes small shops, even from the service angle, because customers tend not to trust someone they don’t see participating in their subculture. Also, our own sense of the componentry suffers from our inability to use all of it. Our slogan in the ‘90s was, “We really ride.” Road or mountain, we had put in the hours. Now, with every division a specialty of its own, a small shop faces an insurmountable challenge. You have to choose a specialty.
Sensing this well over a decade ago, I suggested that we stake out the practical tourist and exploratory rider demographic, as well as keeping a stock of path bikes and kid stuff for the casual recreationists and moderate fitness riders. Upper management did not commit to the concept. So here we are.
Word is, the competitor is not hurting for money. It always makes things harder when you’re fighting for your life against someone who is in the game just for a hobby. It’s yet another kick in the nards for the mythical “free market.”
All this takes place at a time when bikes are still being treated as toys and banished to segregated playgrounds. Cycling has not heeded the advice to join or die. Within the ranks of all pedalers, each subculture makes its own separate treaties with government and public opinion. Each pulls separately on the funds and expertise of any business trying to continue in the industry.
5 comments:
The word "progress" is an oxymoron...
"[C]ustomers tend not to trust someone they don't see participating in their subculture." I couldn't have said it any better. It also is a reason why I lost interest in mountain biking: I got tired of the shops oriented to it that treated road cyclists as if they were diseased--or who simply couldn't understand why you didn't buy the latest mountain bike when you wanted something for a monthlong tour.
We can blame online retailing, planned obsolescence and anything else we want, but ultimately consumers cause the market fragmentation you describe. As long as there are folks who insist on not patronizing particular retailers because they don't stock SRAM Red components or carbon-fiber mountain bikes with hydroelectric shocks (OK, that was a saracasm), they are leading to the demise of the sport. And they will be the first ones to complain about it.
Justine -- Industry players intoxicated by a bigger audience and greater cash flow than they had ever seen started the bike business rolling toward the edge of the cliff in the 1990s. But they did find riders willing to drive wedges. I wonder, though, whether the riders now feeding the demise of bike commerce and service as we know it are the type to remain interested for longer than the life of one bike. The life of one bike used to be 20 years or more. Now it's probably about 3. And off they go to some other thing that a bunch of their friends are trying, like rocket-propelled kayaking, or eating laundry detergent while skydiving into a yoga class.
The life of a new bike is still 20 years or more. The manufacturers simply wish it was three. My Cannondale is now 20, though it now has indexed bar end shifters instead of the original brifters.
Steve A -- Any move away from brifters will extend the life of your bike. But anyone riding competitively or wanting to look like a racer and ride with an aggressive group will chew through expensive parts in a couple of seasons and discover all sorts of baffling malfunctions in complicated mechanisms. I guess the determining factor is intensity: if you pound on your bike you will destroy it faster. Racer types are discovering that this is also true of their bodies.
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