Selling City Bikes: NYC Case Studies

While in New York City last week, I had a chance to visit two bicycle shops specialising in transportational cycling: Hudson Urban Bicycles (HUB)and Adeline Adeline. These visits were great, but they also evoked some envy. Why do we not have shops like this in Boston? Seriously, there is not a single bike shop in town catering specifically and exclusively to urban transport. A few shops do stock transportation bicycles, but the selection is limited. When I ask why they do not offer more I am told there is no demand. Baffling, because I know for a fact that both New York and Portland, ME(not to mention a number of online retailers) receive a steady stream of Boston customers because there is no local supply.



Based on my observations over the recent years, I do not think there is in fact a lack of demand. But it seems that bike shops that specialise in transportation may be in a better position to sell city bikes than bike shops that are diversified. Visiting Adeline and HUB in New York underscored this idea.






I would say that for shops selling transportation bicycles, location is key. Adeline Adeline is on a small and quiet street in TriBeCa. Hudson Urban Bicycles is on an equally small and quiet street in the West Village. In both cases, there are bike lanes literally just out the door, with protected greenways nearby. This sort of thing is absolutely crucial for beginners looking to test ride some bikes, which is precisely the category many potential customers fall into. They would like to ride in the city, but quite possibly they have never actually done so before. Their first cycling experience in ages might very well be this test ride outside of the bike shop. It makes a huge difference whether the space outside the shop is beginner-friendly.




When I was shopping for my first bicycle in the Spring of , I was not confident on a bike at all and could not yet imagine riding in traffic. I found it impossible to properly test ride a bike in almost any local shop, because the spaces outside were not beginner-friendly. While it's hard for established shops to change that reality, a new shop devoted specifically to city bikes can choose their space with access to infrastructure in mind.






Appropriately informed staff are important to selling transportation bicycles as well. In typical bike shops, most sales staff tend to be avid road cyclists, many of them racers. I have listened to quite a few steer customers by default toward cyclocross bikes with drop bars for commuting. I have also witnessed sales staff actively discourage customers from getting bikes with step-through frames or internally geared hubs, citing performance drawbacks. They did not even ask the customers how long their commute would be before saying such things.




While hanging out at HUB, I watched the owner talking to a couple who was new to cycling, and as they chatted I could see that couple grow more relaxed about the prospect of riding in the city. In shops that do not focus on transportation per se, I often observe the opposite happening: The longer a potential customer talks to a member of staff about commuting, the more concerned their facial expression grows. The "information" they are receiving is obviously scary and confusing. Bike shops that sell many types of bicycles cannot usually afford to hire separate sales staff to handle the city bikes.






No less important is the atmosphere inside the shop. The interiors of Adeline and HUB are heavenly microcosms - worlds where transportation cycling is normal, cool, intuitive, safe, and has an obvious place in everyday life. And the creation of such an atmosphere is a huge public service as far as I am concerned. Even if the customer walks out the door without buying a bike, they will still walk away with the impression that transportation cycling is fun and, above all, normal. They will be more likely to come back, or at least to keep cycling in mind as a valid possibility.When city bikes are mixed together with all sorts of other types of bikes on one cluttered floor space, it is impossible to achieve this kind of ambiance; it is impossible to communicate this message. I do think it's possible for diversified bike shops to present transportation cycling in a similar light by designating a special area to them, and then staging this area as if it were its own boutique. But in actuality this is seldom done.





Several members of the bicycle industry have mentioned to me now that it is easier to start a dedicated city bike boutique in a town that already has a dozen bike shops than it is to get existing shops to carry city bikes. And I have seen plenty of evidence to support this. Aside from the issues already mentioned, existing bike shops tend to err on the conservative side and stick with what they know. Even if they delve into city bikes, they are not going to start carrying 5 new brands right away; they might start with one or two. But that might not be sufficient to be truly effective. Hopefully, some brave entrepreneurs will start transportation-specific bike shops in Boston soon, as well as in every other city that is ready for them.





In the meantime, I may just have to keep visiting NYC for test rides. During this visit alone I test rode four bikes, and there were plenty of others to try. There were also other city bike stores to explore had I not run out of time, most notably Bicycle Habitat and Rolling Orange. For anyone visiting New York, I recommend having a look at those, in addition toAdeline AdelineandHudson Urban Bicycles (HUB).






Aside from bicycles, Adeline specialises in exquisite accessories the likes of which you might not find elsewhere: the latest in bicycle bags, jewelry, books, unusual clothing. HUB on the other hand, boasts an entire show room of vintage bikes in refurbished condition, including loads of pre-1970s English 3-speeds - some with original lighting! I enjoyed visiting both shops, and will be posting reviews of the Achielle, Retrovelo and Jensen bicycles soon.

Still a Lot of Lands to See...

I have been afraid to write about this, because then it would become real... But this morning I've been listening to Joni Mitchell for inspiration, determined to finally do it. So here it is: in the end of March I am going to Death Valley in California for a bit of bicycle riding. Chris Kostman of AdventureCORPS has invited me to a couple of events that he organises: a century ride called the Hell's Gate Hundred, preceded by 5 days of cycling, hiking and yoga that is known asCORPSCamp.




I have never been to Death Valley, or to California before. And these events will be like nothing I've ever done previously. I will probably fail at them terribly, but I want to try anyway. The reason goes back to my trip to Interbike in Las Vegas last September.






I met many interesting people at Interbike. Some were sponsors with whom I've hitherto only had email contact, and Chris Kostman was among them. Describing Chris is a challenge, because "on paper" I knew of him as an athlete (the youngest to complete the Race Across America at age 20, he finished 9th). But when we met in person it was so removed from that, that I had a difficult time even picturing him on a bike. In fact I'd wanted to photograph and write about him back in September, but all the pictures came out looking like a GAP commercial, it was no good! An endurance cyclist since his teenage years, for decades Chris has been racing and competing in endurance events, and was even part of Team Bridgestone in the early '90s. Somewhere down the line he founded AdventureCORPS and now organises well known "ultra-cycling" events such as theFurnace Creek 508, as well as various century and double-century rides and cycling camps.




Reading about these things, as well as Chris's many articles on training and nutrition, one gets the sense that this is a person who lives and breathes sport and spends most of his waking hours training. I was almost nervous to meet him. Would he make me do push-ups as we chatted? Turns out we had a lot to talk about. Chris is alarmingly intelligent, and one of those people who is interested in everything - soaking up knowledge like a sponge and sharing it freely with others. Since I started roadcycling, he has given me valuable advice and has opened up my mind about the place cycling can have in my life.He also sparked my interest in the desert landscape.





Interbike was overwhelmingly hectic, and after taking pictures of bicycles non-stop as I walked around the huge showrooms for hours,I was exhausted. Still, when Chris offered to show me Red Rock Canyon outside Las Vegas on my last day there, I dragged myself out of bed early and, with a migraine and eyes half closed, grabbed my camera bag and made it into his time-traveling car. The only desert I'd seen before had been in the Middle East, and my memories of it were not fond. I expected a version of the same here. As we drove to Red Rock I mostly wanted to get it over with just as a "there, I've seen it" sort of thing.





But my experience proved to be different. I am a very visual person, and normally it is the way a place looks that influences me the most. And Red Rock was certainly striking, with its striped mountains and fields of rocks, cacti and unusual grasses. But that is not what I remember the most, and it's not what got to me. My strongest memory of the place has to do with how the air felt and smelled. It was so weird, I am not sure how to describe it. We got out of the car and immediately I walked 5 steps into the desert and just stood there. It wasn't hot. Or maybe it was, but I didn't notice. The air had a dewy quality to it that was not only unexpected, but nothing like the dewy morning air I am used to in Northern climates. There was a scent to it, too. Very faint and I bet the people who live there no longer notice it, but for me it was new. I think the scent was coming from all the weird little plants, and the overall effect was kind of melony - lightly sweet and refreshing.






Within 5 minutes my headache went away and I no longer felt tired or sleepy. In fact I felt like going on a very long hike or bike ride. This change in energy levels and sense of well-being was so quick and dramatic that it was as if I'd gotten an injection. Crazy. There wasn't much time before I had to get back to Las Vegas, but I walked around taking pictures for as long as I could, for the first time regretting that I could not stay and explore the area longer.





We saw some cyclists in the desert, and I was envious. Riding in that fresh dewy air with the cactus scents and the stripey mountains looming in the distance must be nice. And that is when Chris remarked casually that I should take part in one of the rides he organises - in response to which I, of course, laughed, since it seemed wildly unrealistic. But by the time December rolled around, I'd been cycling like crazy and it changed to seeming only moderately unrealistic. When AdventureCORPS and the Furnace Creek Ranch officially invited me to the March events in Death Valley, I decided to go.





To save myself future embarrassment I've been trying to be non-comittal about classifying myself as a participant vs a photographer/support person. Chris assures me I'll be fine doing the rides, but he must think I am being modest in describing what a poor cyclist I am. Still, I've now registered on BikeReg and everything is settled, so it looks like it's happening.Soma Fabricationswill be loaning me a Smoothie roadbike to test ride while I am in California, which I am excited about as well.



Physically I'm not ready for the Hell's Gate Hundred and the 5 days of cycling that is CORPSCamp. But I keep from hyperventilating by telling myself there isn't really any pressure on me to finish all the rides, and that I can do as little or as much as I feel comfortable with. It will be both scary and interesting to find out how much that is. And of course, I will get to see California. I am nervous and looking forward to it all in equal measure.

Mating Damselflies, Swamp River

I paddled 13 miles on Swamp River yesterday and saw several critters but the highlight of the day was seeing all of the damselflies in the grasses and on the lily pads along the edge of the river. They are so small, most people probably wouldn’t even notice them. These little guys are only about an inch and a half long. Once you notice them, it’s hard to take your eyes off them (they are also quite hard to photograph, since they usually don’t sit still for very long). Adding to the difficulty was the wind. It was quite hard to capture these critters when the grasses were blowing around so much!

The 44th Regiment at Shiloh :: The Photo

This is the second of two photographs from the display at the visitor center at Shiloh National Battlefield.

The caption for this photo reads “The men of the 44th Indiana Infantry Regiment display their arms and accoutrements before the battle.” Written in the lower right corner is “Comy H 44 Ind”

The close-ups below begin from the left hand side of the above photograph. There is some overlap in the close-ups so some men will appear on more than one of the pictures.

Microburst

Wednesday's forecast predicted thunderstorms, and after a sunny humid day a rapid downpour descended on our neighbourhood in the afternoon. Later we learned that the next town over had experienced a microburst - an intense storm similar to a tornado, only with wind patterns in the opposite direction. Over 100 full grown trees were uprooted in the storm in the course of very little time. No one was hurt, but property was damaged.



The next morning I went on a ride and found the Minuteman Bikeway impassable, with huge toppled trees in close succession blocking the entire path. As municipal workers in neon vests surveyed the area, confused bicycle commuters wandered around looking for alternative routes without having to ride on the high-traffic main road which the Bikeway parallels.






The side streets were blocked. Municipal vehicles were gathering from all directions - those huge machines where you feed them pieces of tree and they mulch it up. Finally, I went on the main road and competed with a procession of buses in mid-day heat until my nerves had worn raw. Drivers were especially out of sorts that morning, behaving aggressively and honking at cyclists for simply being "in the way" - probably not realising that we had all been displaced from the adjacent bikeway and had nowhere else to be.



Riding under these conditions, I realised how spoiled I've gotten lately - forgetting how stressful cycling can be when drivers behave like this and there is no alternative route. I was getting honked at continuously for trying to take the lane. But as busses kept cutting me off and car doors swung open with abandon, taking the lane was the only safe option. Eventually a few of us formed a cluster: me, a woman in a yellow sundress on a cruiser, a teenager on a mountain bike, and an older man on a time trial bike. The cars went wild, but at least there was safety in numbers.






The pièce de résistance happened on my way home. I was already back in Cambridge and riding on a quiet MUP when around the bend a municipal carcomes charging at me head-on, taking up the entire width of the path. The guy slammed his brakes when he saw me and I slammed mine, feeling a huge surge of adrenaline. We stopped within inches of each other and I had one of those not-quite-but-almost crashes that I am so talented at. I kept the bike from hitting the ground, in the process contorting my body unnaturally and twisting my elbow. Ouch. But who cares about a little ouch; I am just glad he did not run me over. We had words, if you can call it that. Me: "You could have killed me!" He: "Sorry sweetheart, I didn't see you coming!"



I suppose the take-away lesson here is to stay off the roads after natural disasters? Easy enough for someone doing a training ride, but what about those who commute that way? I don't think the city even announced anywhere that the Minuteway Bikeway was impassable, whereas they certainly would have announced it had a major road become unavailable to drivers. Maybe when there are more of us, things will be different. I hope so.

Wagon

I'm sitting on what I think is part of an old wagon for hauling out the logs that were cut in this little canyon all those years ago.

Calm before the storm

Hurricane Dennis is on the way.

Keeping my fingers crossed.