Yes, I was Googling myself. In doing so, I came across this article:
http://www.outsideonline.com/outdoor-adventure/biking/The-Day-the-Insults-Died.html
in Outside Magazine. It's good. Outside's got some pretty good writers. And, for the most part, it's true. Depending of course on the shop, bike mechanics and shops are increasingly put on display, and the overtly aggressive/condescending/douchebag bike mechanic's days could be numbered, and that's not a bad thing.
I'm here to say all the things I cannot to the idiots across the counter from me. In person, I have to be polite and courteous, and I need to bite my tongue when you bring me your neglected bike and then question the quote I put together to fix it. I'm OK with this. I really am. For the most part, my customers are calm, understanding, and reasonable. Often, the worst reaction I have to deal with is a raised eyebrow and a "Wow, I didn't expect it to be that much," after which I explain to you how chains stretch and cogs wear and you nearly always understand and tell me to go ahead with the repair. And you're happy you did, because when you get your bike back, it works again, better than you remembered it could. Sometimes, you tell me it's just too much, and we back off on a couple things, and I do my best to educate you on what to expect, and I'm OK with this too. If it's not a safety issue, I'm pretty happy to do as little or as much as you want me to.
So where does the Angry Bike Wrench come from? The soul of the ABW lies in the disconnect in how we view bikes, and how you view your bike.
The ABW became a mechanic because he loved bikes and would tinker with them whether he got paid to do so or not. In middle school, he was dissatisfied with his Huffy, and did what he could to make it better. He quickly became frustrated with it, so he wandered into a bike shop and noticed what good bikes looked and felt like. He saved his dollars and bought one. Then he tinkered with that. When he couldn't fix it himself, he took it to the shop, where he pestered the crusty old mechanic to teach him a thing or two.
In high school, when mowing lawns wasn't cutting it any more, he asked the crusty old mechanic for a job. Crusty gave him a shot building kids' bikes. The ABW showed some aptitude. He got good at it. Crusty let him do a tune-up. The ABW got better at that too. Now he had skills. He still needed to look to Crusty for advice when he encountered something new, but for some reason, new info on bikes and how to fix them stuck in his head like other information didn't.
In college, fixing bikes paid for rent and booze. The ABW didn't need to look to others as often for advice on how to fix something. The way he thought had changed. He understood how things had to go together, so he know how they had to come apart. His eyes knew what looked right and what didn't, and without thinking, he paid attention to how parts were oriented so he could put them back the same way. Now, when presented with a part he hadn't worked on before, he had the mechanical foundation that allowed him to figure it out.
After college, the ABW didn't want to keep fixing bikes, but he was good at it, and when a "real" job wasn't quick in coming, he decided to get a gig at a shop, just to pay the bills, just until a real job came along. His service manage left in a huff, and because he was the most experienced mechanic, he fell into the job. The ABW learned business.
Outside the shop, years of riding had honed his senses. When riding, he could feel a shifter out of adjustment, and he could fix it without even thinking about it. He'd long ago ceased to give his bikes tune-ups, because maintenance of his personal fleet was constant. He lubed and wiped down his chains after almost every ride. He checked his cables, and a cable never went uncapped for longer than a ride. His bikes were never stored outside, ever. His bikes were tools, and some of them were bastards, but he loved and revered them, because they were his.
The ABW had learned to eat, sleep, breathe, and shit bikes. Without trying, they had become his life, and his life had grudgingly come to depend on them.
And now you walk into his shop, with your bike that you left locked to a parking meter over the winter, and you wonder why he sneers at you? You bring your bike in because it makes a funny sound when you squeeze the brakes, and you wonder why he's exasperated when he points out that your brake pads were worn out and needed to be replaced months ago, and now you've worn through the brake track on your rim and need to replace your wheel? Your tires are rotted and worn through to the casing, and you wonder why he rolls his eyes when you balk at a thirty dollar tire?
He takes it personally. He shouldn't, and he know he shouldn't, but he can't help it. Bikes are his life, and they should not be treated like this. That is the soul of the ABW and the fundamental reason it's so difficult for the ABW to relate to you and to your bike. The problem is, the ABW isn't good for business or for the industry. Belittling a customer is no way to win repeat business. At best, it pisses people off. At worst, it keeps people from having their bikes serviced, which means they don't enjoy riding their bike because it shifts like shit, so they don't ride as much, so they get fat and unhappy and don't buy any more bikes or service. It's a nasty, downward spiral.
So the ABW exists in all bike mechanics, because we have a fundamentally different perception of what bikes are and how they should be cared for. Good mechanics will temper their inner ABW. Great mechanics will use their ABW as inspiration to make your bike as good as is possible to show you how good it can be, so you learn to revere your bike like he does.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Thursday, January 10, 2013
The Slow Season
The other day, I took 2 hours to do a 30 day check on a Trek 7.1 FX. I know what you're thinking, and I was not fucking the dog, as many would assume. I did all the usual things, but it being the slow season, I had time to do a couple things I would never take the time to do during the busy season. Usually, I'd tweak the wheels with them in the frame. This time, I put them in the truing stand. Tension off? I took the time to give each spoke half a turn and a lot of squeezes. Those are some of the best-tensioned wheels on a 7.1 FX.
We'd installed fenders on this one. I noticed the front brake cable, where it jumps across the fender from one brake arm to the other, was making contact with the fender. I checked the mounting hardware, and the fender was mounted as low as the slot would allow. No problem. I got out the Dremel and made the slot longer, dropped the fender a quarter inch, and no more contact. I would NEVER take the time to do that during the silly season.
Everything had the kind of dirt and grit you'd expect after about a month of riding in all conditions. We always wipe down the frame and wheels, but I took the time to fish the rag through all the nooks and crannies, around the chainstay bridge, behind the front derailleur, etc. That bike left cleaner than when it was new.
The same is true for tune-ups performed during the slow season. The bike gets cleaned better, the adjustments are more precise, and details that might be overlooked when we're slammed get attention. Don't procrastinate, and don't pay for a tune-up during the summer. Bring your bike to me in February, when my thumb is getting chapped because it's been up my ass for two months, and you'll get the best possible tune-up. Period.
We'd installed fenders on this one. I noticed the front brake cable, where it jumps across the fender from one brake arm to the other, was making contact with the fender. I checked the mounting hardware, and the fender was mounted as low as the slot would allow. No problem. I got out the Dremel and made the slot longer, dropped the fender a quarter inch, and no more contact. I would NEVER take the time to do that during the silly season.
Everything had the kind of dirt and grit you'd expect after about a month of riding in all conditions. We always wipe down the frame and wheels, but I took the time to fish the rag through all the nooks and crannies, around the chainstay bridge, behind the front derailleur, etc. That bike left cleaner than when it was new.
The same is true for tune-ups performed during the slow season. The bike gets cleaned better, the adjustments are more precise, and details that might be overlooked when we're slammed get attention. Don't procrastinate, and don't pay for a tune-up during the summer. Bring your bike to me in February, when my thumb is getting chapped because it's been up my ass for two months, and you'll get the best possible tune-up. Period.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
The Service Margin
In business, there are many ways of calculating profit, but if you distill any of them to their essence, it is this: money in versus money out. On the service side, the cost of doing business is parts, consumables like lube and rags, and overhead like rent and utilities. But those costs pale in comparison to payroll.
On the plus side is the amount you bring in for service, which in turn is the margin you're making on the parts your mechanics are installing, and the money you charge for fixing whatever needs fixing on your customers' bikes.
So if you want to calculate your service margin, you subtract the cost of doing business (overhead, payroll, cost of goods sold) from the gross brought in by the service department. This is an important metric. Too high, and it could be argued you're overcharging your clients or underpaying your mechanics (though not many managers will be uncomfortable with margins that are too high). Too low, and you're just not making money. Businesses that don't make money don't stick around very long.
I had a talk today with my service manager about our service margin. He explained that we could no longer track the amount of service our service writers were selling; that this metric had been important in the past.
I'm uncomfortable with this.
I'm uncomfortable because tracking this metric creates a very clear incentive to oversell service, which means you're going to be encouraging your clients to do things they may not need to do. This is how mechanics and service technicians of all disciplines get the reputation for being shady and ripping people off. This is how a person can go into one bike shop and get a $300 estimate, and desiring a second opinion, will be told by the next shop that it will only take $150 to fix his/her bike. It does not build trust.
Don't misunderstand me. I understand business, and I understand that, as long as I want raises, businesses have to grow. That includes the service side of a bike shop as well. I also understand that you cannot improve what you do not measure. As a mechanic, I want to know what my personal service margin is. I want to know how much I've made for the shop vs. how much the shop has spent to keep my grumpy ass behind the bench. And if that number isn't favorable, I'm going to get my ass in gear, voluntarily or otherwise.
So it seems we're at an impasse. How do you grow your service business without creating an incentive to oversell service? Bearing in mind I have no hard data to support this assertion (like most of the assertions I have), it's like this: when a customer approaches my service counter, I want to give him/her all the info s/he needs to make an informed decision about what we'll do to his/her bike. I want to give him a good/better/best, and an explanation of what happens after he decides. Don't want to replace the chain right now? OK, but you will likely be replacing your cassette the next time I see you. Don't want to replace chain and cassette? OK, but your shifting is going to suck, and there's nothing I can do about that. Don't want to clean and lube your chain? OK, but you'll be replacing it more often, at a greater expense. Any of these options are OK with me - it is, after all, your fucking bike. But if I recommend something and you say no, I want us both to understand what happens next. It's all about managing expectations.
Happily and more often than not, my customers do what I recommend. I replace a lot of chains and cassettes, and I do it with a clear conscience, because I know the safety and performance of my clients' bikes is better, which in turn will make their experiences more enjoyable.
But if my service manager ever tells me I need to start pushing my number, I'll tell him where to shove it.
On the plus side is the amount you bring in for service, which in turn is the margin you're making on the parts your mechanics are installing, and the money you charge for fixing whatever needs fixing on your customers' bikes.
So if you want to calculate your service margin, you subtract the cost of doing business (overhead, payroll, cost of goods sold) from the gross brought in by the service department. This is an important metric. Too high, and it could be argued you're overcharging your clients or underpaying your mechanics (though not many managers will be uncomfortable with margins that are too high). Too low, and you're just not making money. Businesses that don't make money don't stick around very long.
I had a talk today with my service manager about our service margin. He explained that we could no longer track the amount of service our service writers were selling; that this metric had been important in the past.
I'm uncomfortable with this.
I'm uncomfortable because tracking this metric creates a very clear incentive to oversell service, which means you're going to be encouraging your clients to do things they may not need to do. This is how mechanics and service technicians of all disciplines get the reputation for being shady and ripping people off. This is how a person can go into one bike shop and get a $300 estimate, and desiring a second opinion, will be told by the next shop that it will only take $150 to fix his/her bike. It does not build trust.
Don't misunderstand me. I understand business, and I understand that, as long as I want raises, businesses have to grow. That includes the service side of a bike shop as well. I also understand that you cannot improve what you do not measure. As a mechanic, I want to know what my personal service margin is. I want to know how much I've made for the shop vs. how much the shop has spent to keep my grumpy ass behind the bench. And if that number isn't favorable, I'm going to get my ass in gear, voluntarily or otherwise.
So it seems we're at an impasse. How do you grow your service business without creating an incentive to oversell service? Bearing in mind I have no hard data to support this assertion (like most of the assertions I have), it's like this: when a customer approaches my service counter, I want to give him/her all the info s/he needs to make an informed decision about what we'll do to his/her bike. I want to give him a good/better/best, and an explanation of what happens after he decides. Don't want to replace the chain right now? OK, but you will likely be replacing your cassette the next time I see you. Don't want to replace chain and cassette? OK, but your shifting is going to suck, and there's nothing I can do about that. Don't want to clean and lube your chain? OK, but you'll be replacing it more often, at a greater expense. Any of these options are OK with me - it is, after all, your fucking bike. But if I recommend something and you say no, I want us both to understand what happens next. It's all about managing expectations.
Happily and more often than not, my customers do what I recommend. I replace a lot of chains and cassettes, and I do it with a clear conscience, because I know the safety and performance of my clients' bikes is better, which in turn will make their experiences more enjoyable.
But if my service manager ever tells me I need to start pushing my number, I'll tell him where to shove it.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Purpose
I know why I do this, but I don't know that you do. Every once in a while, it's valuable to take a few big steps back and reevaluate your purpose in doing what you do.
I started this because I was a frustrated bike wrench fed up with an sometimes-inept boss, a failing bike shop, and unappreciative customers. Thankfully, that gig came to an end and better things came along. I'm still Angry Bike Wrench, but I'm not angry for the same reasons. So yes, this is cathartic.
My greater purpose though is twofold. One, this is to be a forum for those fascinated by the mechanics of the bike and the bike industry. The kinds of people who regularly check the Problem Solvers blog for new releases and occasionally, just for funsies, flip through their greasy, dogeared copy of Barnett's before falling asleep.
Two, this is an attempt to give perspective that bridges the communication gap that often exists between the wrench and the customer. It is this gap that still continually frustrates me, and it would be cathartic to provide a few examples. Yes, nearly anybody can learn to fix a bike, but no, it is not easy. It takes years of experience to learn to do it properly. Please don't cite your expertise with cars, airplanes, washing machines, or woodworking tools as evidence that you can easily fix your own bike. Also, I don't care if you're an engineer of any discipline. Normally, this just means you're an extraordinary pain in the ass.
When I tell you you need a new chain and cassette, I am not ripping you off, at least not any more than the auto tech who tells you to change your oil. Despite your inability to grasp the value in maintaining a bike, I have your best interests in mind.
Most bike shops function on the principle of first-come, first-served. Even if it was within my ability to complete a tuneup on your bike in the next 15 minutes so you can race tomorrow, I will not do it. Other people, people with more skill in planning and time management than you, brought their bikes to me before you. I'm fixing theirs first.
If the other shop offered to fix your bike for less than I'm charging you for parts alone, you are more than welcome to take them up on their offer. They will not be in business much longer.
Forgive me for stating the obvious, but smiles and hellos motivate me to bend over backward to make your cycling experience as positive as possible. Demands and accusations make me want to teach you a lesson.
Most importantly, bike wrenches LOVE fixing bikes. We are not getting rich. We are learning few transferable skills. We are working shitty, long hours during the time of year when everybody else goes to the beach and rides their bikes. We do it because we love it. We love diagnosing clicks and creaks. We love taking a frame and a box of parts and creating from it your dream bike. We love the revelation that comes when we raise your saddle a half inch and you realize what comfort and power feel like. We love it. Please remember that when you're staring down your nose at our greasy nails, tattoos, scabs, and scars.
I started this because I was a frustrated bike wrench fed up with an sometimes-inept boss, a failing bike shop, and unappreciative customers. Thankfully, that gig came to an end and better things came along. I'm still Angry Bike Wrench, but I'm not angry for the same reasons. So yes, this is cathartic.
My greater purpose though is twofold. One, this is to be a forum for those fascinated by the mechanics of the bike and the bike industry. The kinds of people who regularly check the Problem Solvers blog for new releases and occasionally, just for funsies, flip through their greasy, dogeared copy of Barnett's before falling asleep.
Two, this is an attempt to give perspective that bridges the communication gap that often exists between the wrench and the customer. It is this gap that still continually frustrates me, and it would be cathartic to provide a few examples. Yes, nearly anybody can learn to fix a bike, but no, it is not easy. It takes years of experience to learn to do it properly. Please don't cite your expertise with cars, airplanes, washing machines, or woodworking tools as evidence that you can easily fix your own bike. Also, I don't care if you're an engineer of any discipline. Normally, this just means you're an extraordinary pain in the ass.
When I tell you you need a new chain and cassette, I am not ripping you off, at least not any more than the auto tech who tells you to change your oil. Despite your inability to grasp the value in maintaining a bike, I have your best interests in mind.
Most bike shops function on the principle of first-come, first-served. Even if it was within my ability to complete a tuneup on your bike in the next 15 minutes so you can race tomorrow, I will not do it. Other people, people with more skill in planning and time management than you, brought their bikes to me before you. I'm fixing theirs first.
If the other shop offered to fix your bike for less than I'm charging you for parts alone, you are more than welcome to take them up on their offer. They will not be in business much longer.
Forgive me for stating the obvious, but smiles and hellos motivate me to bend over backward to make your cycling experience as positive as possible. Demands and accusations make me want to teach you a lesson.
Most importantly, bike wrenches LOVE fixing bikes. We are not getting rich. We are learning few transferable skills. We are working shitty, long hours during the time of year when everybody else goes to the beach and rides their bikes. We do it because we love it. We love diagnosing clicks and creaks. We love taking a frame and a box of parts and creating from it your dream bike. We love the revelation that comes when we raise your saddle a half inch and you realize what comfort and power feel like. We love it. Please remember that when you're staring down your nose at our greasy nails, tattoos, scabs, and scars.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
MORE Fucking Chain Stretch
Remember our good friend Steve-O who wanted the eight speed Long Haul Trucker? Well, it seems his mindset/drivetrain longevity paradigm is alive and well in the minds of others. I took an email today with the EXACT same argument: I don't want ten speeds because those wimpy, skinny little chains stretch too fast. I gave my usual argument that drivetrain cleanliness has more to do with longevity than the number of cogs, but I should've know better. Nobody listens if you're telling them what they don't want to hear.
But then I had a thought: what if I'm wrong? What if eight and nine speed drivetrains really are more durable? One instance of a person thinking this? I wrote it off because Steve-O is a kook. But two instances becomes more compelling. So I'm putting it to you readers. I want the most rigorous data you can muster. I'll accept anecdotal evidence if that's all you've got, but the argument, "Eight speeds are more durable because I had this bike once..." doesn't really cut it. Anecdotes are interesting and compelling, but I'd love to hear from somebody with more than one bike, or a couple of bikes with different drivetrains ridden under similar conditions, etc. I want controls and variables if possible.
For the record, these are my points of argument:
1. Chains don't stretch - they elongate as the bearing surfaces are eroded (not really controversial or refuted)
2. There is a direct correlation between the rate of erosion and the amount of dirt/grime/nastiness on the chain (still pretty uncontroversial, but less universally accepted because there is no way to quantify the cleanliness of a chain, which makes that variable open to interpretation)
3. Modern chains and cogs, regardless of the number of speeds, and when comparing components of comparable quality, are made of better materials with more sophisticated processes, which increases their durability. This one requires some breakdown. "when comparing components of comparable quality" What I mean by this is a comparison of a DuraAce ten speed cassette to a Sora eight speed cassette is not a fair comparison, nor would be a comparison of a DuraAce eight speed cassette to a Sora eight speed cassette. Presumable, the DuraAce is going to be more durable because it's a higher quality component, irrespective of the number of cogs. For this comparison to be fair, we need to compare a DuraAce ten speed cassette to a DuraAce eight speed cassette, or an eight speed XT to a ten speed XT, etc. The point may or may not be true. I think we want it to be true, because what's the point of advances in technology and metallurgy if not to make stuff "better," but there exists the fact that "better" does not always equate to "durable" in the bike industry. But since I'm a Polyanna, I choose to believe that better can and does mean more durable.
4. People's drivetrains are not as clean as they think they are. Again, some breakdown. In the U.S., bikes are toys. Toys do not require maintenance, unless said maintenance amounts to no more than charging and/or replacing batteries. Ergo, if somebody wipes their chain down twice a season, they are, in their minds anyway, doing a good job of keeping their drivetrain clean. I am a little anal about my chains - not so bad as some, but more anal than many. On my road bike, which doesn't often see we weather, I lube my chain every third or fourth ride, and wipe it down pretty thoroughly before I take it out again. On my MTB, I lube it and wipe it down every ride. On my commuter bike, which sees all kinds of nasty, I use a heavier lube, and lube and wipe it every week or two depending on how wet it's been. Regardless of the bike, if it gets wet, the chain gets lubed and wiped down.
It's not the most rigorous drivetrain routine out there, and I'm really unparticular about the lube I use. Shit, when you work in the industry, you use whatever's free. About the only one I don't care for is Triflow, but it's not bad, just not as good as some of the other stuff I've used.
My point is, that's still a lot more time and hassle than most "average" cyclists are willing to put forth. Sure, there's a learning curve there, and the more you do it, the faster and easier it becomes, but we're lazy motherfuckers. We don't like learning curves.
Actually, when I was working on Steve-O's LHT, I threw the question to Zinn, and he took the time to answer it, which I appreciated, albeit pretty superficially. I think it was because Steve-O had been corresponding with Frank Berto (author of The Dancing Chain), and Zinn didn't want to be left out of the conversation. Basically, he (Zinn) also thought Steve-O was fucking crazy.
OK Minions, whatchoo got? Send you data and/or anecdotes my way via a concise yet thorough, grammatically-correct, droll and/or wry comment. If you choose to type it without using correct punctuation or spelling, I will punch you square in the baby maker.
But then I had a thought: what if I'm wrong? What if eight and nine speed drivetrains really are more durable? One instance of a person thinking this? I wrote it off because Steve-O is a kook. But two instances becomes more compelling. So I'm putting it to you readers. I want the most rigorous data you can muster. I'll accept anecdotal evidence if that's all you've got, but the argument, "Eight speeds are more durable because I had this bike once..." doesn't really cut it. Anecdotes are interesting and compelling, but I'd love to hear from somebody with more than one bike, or a couple of bikes with different drivetrains ridden under similar conditions, etc. I want controls and variables if possible.
For the record, these are my points of argument:
1. Chains don't stretch - they elongate as the bearing surfaces are eroded (not really controversial or refuted)
2. There is a direct correlation between the rate of erosion and the amount of dirt/grime/nastiness on the chain (still pretty uncontroversial, but less universally accepted because there is no way to quantify the cleanliness of a chain, which makes that variable open to interpretation)
3. Modern chains and cogs, regardless of the number of speeds, and when comparing components of comparable quality, are made of better materials with more sophisticated processes, which increases their durability. This one requires some breakdown. "when comparing components of comparable quality" What I mean by this is a comparison of a DuraAce ten speed cassette to a Sora eight speed cassette is not a fair comparison, nor would be a comparison of a DuraAce eight speed cassette to a Sora eight speed cassette. Presumable, the DuraAce is going to be more durable because it's a higher quality component, irrespective of the number of cogs. For this comparison to be fair, we need to compare a DuraAce ten speed cassette to a DuraAce eight speed cassette, or an eight speed XT to a ten speed XT, etc. The point may or may not be true. I think we want it to be true, because what's the point of advances in technology and metallurgy if not to make stuff "better," but there exists the fact that "better" does not always equate to "durable" in the bike industry. But since I'm a Polyanna, I choose to believe that better can and does mean more durable.
4. People's drivetrains are not as clean as they think they are. Again, some breakdown. In the U.S., bikes are toys. Toys do not require maintenance, unless said maintenance amounts to no more than charging and/or replacing batteries. Ergo, if somebody wipes their chain down twice a season, they are, in their minds anyway, doing a good job of keeping their drivetrain clean. I am a little anal about my chains - not so bad as some, but more anal than many. On my road bike, which doesn't often see we weather, I lube my chain every third or fourth ride, and wipe it down pretty thoroughly before I take it out again. On my MTB, I lube it and wipe it down every ride. On my commuter bike, which sees all kinds of nasty, I use a heavier lube, and lube and wipe it every week or two depending on how wet it's been. Regardless of the bike, if it gets wet, the chain gets lubed and wiped down.
It's not the most rigorous drivetrain routine out there, and I'm really unparticular about the lube I use. Shit, when you work in the industry, you use whatever's free. About the only one I don't care for is Triflow, but it's not bad, just not as good as some of the other stuff I've used.
My point is, that's still a lot more time and hassle than most "average" cyclists are willing to put forth. Sure, there's a learning curve there, and the more you do it, the faster and easier it becomes, but we're lazy motherfuckers. We don't like learning curves.
Actually, when I was working on Steve-O's LHT, I threw the question to Zinn, and he took the time to answer it, which I appreciated, albeit pretty superficially. I think it was because Steve-O had been corresponding with Frank Berto (author of The Dancing Chain), and Zinn didn't want to be left out of the conversation. Basically, he (Zinn) also thought Steve-O was fucking crazy.
OK Minions, whatchoo got? Send you data and/or anecdotes my way via a concise yet thorough, grammatically-correct, droll and/or wry comment. If you choose to type it without using correct punctuation or spelling, I will punch you square in the baby maker.
Friday, June 15, 2012
For the Love of Velox Tape
Well first, I noted with dismay one of my prior posts, the title of which suggests I would go off on the commentators who frequent VeloNews, Cyclingnews, Bikerumor, etc. I so enjoyed my tangent of lovingly criticizing Leonard Zinn that I forgot to get back to bashing the posers, douchebags, luddites, and assholes who feel it's their duty to hate every fucking bike-related post on the interwebs.
Oh my god, Dura Ace is going to 11 speeds?!
Like this exact same thing doesn't happen every 3 to 5 years.
What do you mean I can't get an 11-38 cassette? I've needed an 11-38 cassette for as long as I've been riding! Surely the bike companies wouldn't miss out on the opportunity to sell THOUSANDS of 11-38 cassettes?!
Stack and reach? I've been riding bikes for 33 years, and I've NEVER used stack and reach. People who do are idiots! People who DON'T use stack and reach are idiots! I can't believe every bike company doesn't publish stack and reach measurements for their bikes! The bike industry is idiotic!
And on, and on, and on, and on.
First, we've talked about planned obsolescence before. I wanted this to be a Respectable Blog, so I looked for the original post, but I couldn't find it. Fuck it. Planned obsolescence, or The March of Technology, will come up over and over again, so just take 15 minutes to read through the pile of shit I've written over the last couple years and you'll be up to speed.
The bike industry is driven by technology and exists in a competitive economic arena. Products will evolve into a form perceived by most to be better. "Better" usually means lighter, stiffer, and cheaper. Sometimes it means safer. Eventually, I'm sure we'll get into the philosophical discussion of marketing, and which part of the dog wags the other, but not today. Most people (noted exception - Grant Peterson, whose opinion I respect, though it often differs from my own) agree that bikes are getting better.
What this means is that products are going to change all the time. Part of that change is adding gears. Superficially, you can argue that the performance difference between a 10 speed drivetrain and an 11 are negligible, and you'll be right. But you cannot argue that smaller gaps between gear ratios isn't desirable. It doesn't happen often, but it happens: you're riding along, either in a paceline or against a headwind on your way to work, and the gear you want just isn't there. You're spinning either 80 rpm, or 100, when what you want is 90. Some care, some don't. But enough people care that component manufacturers are going to keep adding gears. So don't act like this hasn't happened before, or that it's some kind of insult to your intelligence or athletic prowess.
Second, just because you ride something and like it does not mean you represent a market worth catering to. No, really. Sometimes, you're just an insignificant outlier, like my ol' friend Steve-O who wanted the 8 speed drivetrain on his LHT. He swore up and down that there were others like him, but if there were, Shimano would still be making an 8 speed, touring-specific drivetrain. The last time my phone shit the bed, I didn't want a smart phone; I just wanted a phone that would make and receive calls and text messages, and that would store an address book. Guess what. They don't exist, unless you want to go with the ol' flip phone. I got a "smart" phone, even though I don't have and don't want a data plan. Was I pissed? Sure. But I was also realistic enough to recognize I'm an outlier, and I sure as shit didn't tell T-Mobile that they were missing out on millions of dollars in revenue because they didn't make the phone I wanted.
But I've digressed. We were going to talk about the repair that stalled because my shop didn't have anything other than 10mm Velox tape. Seriously? I know... There is more money to be made if you keep inventory lean, and with most distributors being within a day or two via ground shipping, just in time ordering is the new normal. But seriously, there are certain things a shop worth a damn should just have in stock, and Velox tape wide enough to do a 26" wheel is one of them. I ended up using the shitty butyl tape, which works, but dammit, that's just something I'm not OK with on a decent bike. Ah well, at least this shop doesn't give away labor like the last...
Oh my god, Dura Ace is going to 11 speeds?!
Like this exact same thing doesn't happen every 3 to 5 years.
What do you mean I can't get an 11-38 cassette? I've needed an 11-38 cassette for as long as I've been riding! Surely the bike companies wouldn't miss out on the opportunity to sell THOUSANDS of 11-38 cassettes?!
Stack and reach? I've been riding bikes for 33 years, and I've NEVER used stack and reach. People who do are idiots! People who DON'T use stack and reach are idiots! I can't believe every bike company doesn't publish stack and reach measurements for their bikes! The bike industry is idiotic!
And on, and on, and on, and on.
First, we've talked about planned obsolescence before. I wanted this to be a Respectable Blog, so I looked for the original post, but I couldn't find it. Fuck it. Planned obsolescence, or The March of Technology, will come up over and over again, so just take 15 minutes to read through the pile of shit I've written over the last couple years and you'll be up to speed.
The bike industry is driven by technology and exists in a competitive economic arena. Products will evolve into a form perceived by most to be better. "Better" usually means lighter, stiffer, and cheaper. Sometimes it means safer. Eventually, I'm sure we'll get into the philosophical discussion of marketing, and which part of the dog wags the other, but not today. Most people (noted exception - Grant Peterson, whose opinion I respect, though it often differs from my own) agree that bikes are getting better.
What this means is that products are going to change all the time. Part of that change is adding gears. Superficially, you can argue that the performance difference between a 10 speed drivetrain and an 11 are negligible, and you'll be right. But you cannot argue that smaller gaps between gear ratios isn't desirable. It doesn't happen often, but it happens: you're riding along, either in a paceline or against a headwind on your way to work, and the gear you want just isn't there. You're spinning either 80 rpm, or 100, when what you want is 90. Some care, some don't. But enough people care that component manufacturers are going to keep adding gears. So don't act like this hasn't happened before, or that it's some kind of insult to your intelligence or athletic prowess.
Second, just because you ride something and like it does not mean you represent a market worth catering to. No, really. Sometimes, you're just an insignificant outlier, like my ol' friend Steve-O who wanted the 8 speed drivetrain on his LHT. He swore up and down that there were others like him, but if there were, Shimano would still be making an 8 speed, touring-specific drivetrain. The last time my phone shit the bed, I didn't want a smart phone; I just wanted a phone that would make and receive calls and text messages, and that would store an address book. Guess what. They don't exist, unless you want to go with the ol' flip phone. I got a "smart" phone, even though I don't have and don't want a data plan. Was I pissed? Sure. But I was also realistic enough to recognize I'm an outlier, and I sure as shit didn't tell T-Mobile that they were missing out on millions of dollars in revenue because they didn't make the phone I wanted.
But I've digressed. We were going to talk about the repair that stalled because my shop didn't have anything other than 10mm Velox tape. Seriously? I know... There is more money to be made if you keep inventory lean, and with most distributors being within a day or two via ground shipping, just in time ordering is the new normal. But seriously, there are certain things a shop worth a damn should just have in stock, and Velox tape wide enough to do a 26" wheel is one of them. I ended up using the shitty butyl tape, which works, but dammit, that's just something I'm not OK with on a decent bike. Ah well, at least this shop doesn't give away labor like the last...
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Bad Luck
Situation: a reasonably nice young man who'd recently (within last 2 months) purchased a bike from our shop came in, and the rear derailleur had grenaded. I didn't have a chance to dig into it, but from what I could see, the spring in the P-knuckle, responsible for applying the pressure that keeps the derailleur cage pushing toward the back of the bike and tensioning the chain, had broken. The derailleur hanger was still straight to the eye, and the derailleur itself looked "normal" for a couple months riding - a few dings and dents here and there. Of course, he was JRA.
Now, I'm not unreasonable, but I'm also a hardened skeptic when it comes to the W-word. Fact is, there aren't that many defective products out there. Materials and manufacturing processes are great and getting better, and QC (most of the time) has followed the same trend. I know it happens, but if we accept Occam's Razor, it's more likely that a stick or rock got flung into the drivetrain, unbeknownst to the rider, rather than believing it was bad materials or manufacturing. Again, either is possible, but one is more probable.
Here's the rub: if this bike had been six months old instead of six weeks, the guy would probably have been singing a different tune. I am now going to coin another ABW truism: the purchase of a new product does not put into effect a moratorium on bad luck. Just because you put in a new tube does not guarantee you will be flat-free for any minimum amount of time. A new derailleur does not keep sticks and rocks out of your drivetrain. A new bike does not keep you from crashing out in the first turn of your Cat-5 shit show. I'm sorry, because sometimes that sucks, but it's not SRAM's fault, or Shimano's, or Cervelo's. It's nobody's fault. Sometimes, bad luck and shitty things happen, even to good, responsible riders.
I don't know what we'll do for this guy; it's not my call to make. If it were, I'd ask SRAM if they had any insight. They know their derailleurs better than I do. If they say the W-word, great. If they don't though, I'd have a nice heart-to-heart with this guy, explain the ABW Bad Luck Truism, and offer to comp labor on a new derailleur. If that wasn't good enough, I might go so far as to offer a discount on the new one, because I'm all kind and understanding and shit.
Now, I'm not unreasonable, but I'm also a hardened skeptic when it comes to the W-word. Fact is, there aren't that many defective products out there. Materials and manufacturing processes are great and getting better, and QC (most of the time) has followed the same trend. I know it happens, but if we accept Occam's Razor, it's more likely that a stick or rock got flung into the drivetrain, unbeknownst to the rider, rather than believing it was bad materials or manufacturing. Again, either is possible, but one is more probable.
Here's the rub: if this bike had been six months old instead of six weeks, the guy would probably have been singing a different tune. I am now going to coin another ABW truism: the purchase of a new product does not put into effect a moratorium on bad luck. Just because you put in a new tube does not guarantee you will be flat-free for any minimum amount of time. A new derailleur does not keep sticks and rocks out of your drivetrain. A new bike does not keep you from crashing out in the first turn of your Cat-5 shit show. I'm sorry, because sometimes that sucks, but it's not SRAM's fault, or Shimano's, or Cervelo's. It's nobody's fault. Sometimes, bad luck and shitty things happen, even to good, responsible riders.
I don't know what we'll do for this guy; it's not my call to make. If it were, I'd ask SRAM if they had any insight. They know their derailleurs better than I do. If they say the W-word, great. If they don't though, I'd have a nice heart-to-heart with this guy, explain the ABW Bad Luck Truism, and offer to comp labor on a new derailleur. If that wasn't good enough, I might go so far as to offer a discount on the new one, because I'm all kind and understanding and shit.
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