On The Road
by: Bill Oetinger 7/1/2010
Hometown Heros
I wrote about this same topic awhile back in another column at this site. The previous column's title included the words "…shop locally," and that should give you a hint about where I'll be going with this one.
By most accounts, the sport/pastime/activity of cycling is growing. More and more people are taking it up, many with the zealous enthusiasm of converts. Presumably, the business end of biking will be booming as well: all the folks who design and produce the stuff that cyclists need (or want) will be busily cranking out the goods to feed the growing market. All well and good.
The marketplace of bike product is one of the most dynamic and interesting in the world….a lively hive of industry and invention. Would-be entrepreneurs can get into the game for a relatively modest stake, and if their offerings are worthy, they may succeed. Cycling consumers can shop amidst an almost endless bazaar of options, not only for bikes themselves, but for all the myriad accessories that trim the bikes and the riders. Again, all well and good.
But, as is the case with all so-called "free-market" economies, there is, or may be, a bit of a downside that's worth noting. The old adage, caveat emptor means "let the buyer beware." Usually this refers to being a careful shopper, watching out for shoddy merchandise or sketchy deals that appear too good to be true. In our modern, globally green village, this cautionary admonition could and should also extend to the broader implications of each purchase: not buying oranges in California that were grown in Chile, not buying products that were produced by child labor in China, with no environmental safeguards, etc..
I say this with the assumption that you, my valued readers, count yourselves among the ranks of those up-to-date, sophisticated sorts who think carbon footprints and social justice and similar niceties matter. I don't expect lock-step, knee-jerk adherence to some bleeding-heart liberal agenda. I'm just hoping for agreement on the premise that we're all in this together; that the good of the community ought to be considered alongside the good of the individual…the greater good of the greater group, I think we call that.
How does this relate to the bike biz? To answer that, I am going to take this local, to my home base of Sonoma County, California. You have heard--in this space and elsewhere--that this region is a cycling mecca. As such, the booming trend in bike ridership is booming here as much or more than anywhere else. For one instance, my own bike club, the Santa Rosa Cycling Club, is adding membership so fast we can't begin to keep up with it or, frankly, even understand it. We've added a new members' table at our monthly meetings and are listing special new-member, get-acquainted rides on our club calendar in an effort to put human faces onto the growing list of new names on our roster.
All of this means increased demand for bikes and bike accessories, and so it's no surprise that there are folks hustling to supply the product to satisfy that demand. New bike shops have been opening around the region at almost land rush speed, trying to cash in on the trend. I just flipped open my county phone book to "Bicycles Dealers" in the yellow pages and counted 26 shops. That's a lot, relative to the general population of the area. Granted, a few of these are a bit off the grid: over in Napa or Marin Counties. Even with the shops within the county, there is a bit of regionalism at work. Shops in Cloverdale or Healdsburg are a long way from those in Sonoma or Petaluma. You might drive an hour to shop for a big ticket item, like a bike or a roof rack, but for a couple of tubes you'll hit the local shop. In this respect, many shops can peacefully co-exist, serving their neighborhood markets, the same way grocery stores do.
The problem I'm seeing is with some of the bigger, full-service shops in or near Santa Rosa…the high-rent, big-ticket emporiums. The bigger, better shops carry a lot of expensive inventory; they employ more staff and, in general, are financially more extended and higher risk than the little, low-overhead mom-and-pop shops. Competition is fierce in this sector. Profit margins can be tight. Like Alice in Wonderland, you have to keep running full speed ahead just to keep up. With new shops joining the fray, it's inevitable that some of them--new or old--won't survive. That's the free market at work. The consumers will vote with their Visa cards and, supposedly, the best shops will win.
That's the way it should be, in theory at least. Consumers benefit when they have a wider array of options from which to choose, and competition should keep prices down. I'm not going to argue that this isn't a good thing. I well remember a painfully pathetic bike shop that used to exist in my neighborhood: a thin, very spotty inventory and lousy service. Other, better shops forced it out of business eventually. But that was a case where the shop really was lame and didn't deserve to survive on its own merits. What I'm talking about now is some very good shops that are in danger of going under…shops that have been serving this community at the highest standards for many, many years with excellent, broad-spectrum inventory, informed, helpful sales staff, and expert service personnel. What's more, these shops have been pillars of the cycling community, over and above what they provide in the store. They have contributed countless and priceless volunteer time and energy to support all sorts of good causes within that cycling community, from assisting with local races and centuries to financial support for advocacy groups. I think of them as hometown heroes.
In both real and metaphorical terms, these best shops--locally owned and operated--act as community centers for our extended cycling family. When you drop by the shop to have your bike tuned up or to buy whatever you need, you can also catch up on local bike gossip, learn the latest bike lore, and just generally plug into the matrix of the local bike scene. A hefty portion of everything I know about bikes was learned while hanging around my local bike store, listening to more experienced riders. If you're a part of scene for any length of time, the folks in the stores will know who you are. You're family. With bike culture still being somewhat outside the mainstream in this country, it's impossible to overstate how valuable it is to have these safe havens, these oases where folks speak the same language you do; where the same verities are understood and agreed upon.
That list of 26 local bike stores is one short. My latest phone book isn't current enough to list the newest addition to the local marketplace. But phone book listing or not, it's out there now: a massive big box store, the latest branch of a national chain of stores from a corporation also known for its extensive mail order business. They are the Walmart of the bike business. They are to local bike shops what Barnes & Noble or Borders are to local book stores. They move into a community and immediately begin offering loss-leaders: products priced so low they lose money on each transaction. But they can afford to, at least for awhile. They want to lure the customers away from the established shops, to woo them and wow them with unbeatable bargains. Their goal is total market domination. Their business model is: "I win when you lose." It's a cutthroat, predatory, winner-take-all philosophy. And usually it works.
If the only implications of this were a few bucks saved by each consumer, that would be the end of the story. But that's where I see the downside: for one thing, most of the revenue leaves the local community. Except for wages paid to the staff, the rest heads to corporate headquarters back east. Of more immediate concern to me is the loss of the somewhat intangible value-added component you get from the locally-owned shop, which, for the most part, is missing from the big box chain outlet: that sense of community; that willingness to pitch in at the Wednesday night market or the Tuesday Twilight Crit or the (locally-run) charity century. What's missing is the sort of episode I mentioned in that prior column: being able to walk into the shop in the middle of a bike ride, with next-to-no money in my pocket, with a mechanical emergency…and getting it fixed on the spot, finances be damned….we'll sort the money out later; for now, let's get you back on the road. Think they would be there for you like that in the big box store?
It's highly unlikely that a couple of monster chain stores are going to drive all the local stores under. The bike world is too resilient, too multi-faceted for that individuality to ever be completely stifled. But it is possible that a few good stores will fold; that a few good mechanics and sales folks will be out of jobs, and few local shop owners, who stuck their financial necks out for us for so many years, will lose it all. It is possible that if enough of us save a few bucks apiece on enough loss-leader bargains at the big box, in the end, when the local guys have been driven out of business, we'll find ourselves with fewer options and not really all that many bargains anyway. Penny wise, dollar foolish is a term that comes to mind.
Maybe in your town you don't have a really good, full-service, best-quality, locally owned bike store. Maybe all you have is that pathetic store that's so lame it deserves to fail. In that case, by all means, take you business to the big box or to its mail order 800-number or website. But if you do have a good shop in your town, one that is at the hub of your local cycling community, plugged into the culture in assorted positive ways, then please think twice about the Faustian bargain you might be making when you turn your back on your neighbors and lay your credit card down on the altar of the corporate giant.
Bill can be reached at srccride@sonic.net