Words & Illustration Gary Sullivan
This column was going to be about a bike ride and yet another weird character trait I discovered while doing it.
Then, I read Lester’s excellent opinion piece, which can be found elsewhere in this issue. I get to preview things like that if I am asked to provide an illustration to go with it, and I absorbed it in full agreement. I like to say my favourite bike is the one I am riding when I should be working, so just about anything with two wheels will qualify on any given day. Doesn’t need to be top of the line, up-to-date, or even manufactured this century. Bikes are good, period.
That thinking got me started on the state of things in the ‘industry’ right now.
One of the retail behemoths that trade in the New Zealand bike segment has recently changed hands for a dollar. A well-known brand, a bunch of stores, a heap of staff, and probably a significant pile of debt – all this for a dollar, presumably ex-GST.
People have often remarked, in recent years, that this outfit and the other more specialised retail behemoth were in a race to the bottom, and I guess this means there is now a winner.
Financial commentators place some of the blame for the failure of this outfit to make a profit on the post-COVID struggles of the bike market. Not sure about that, but the bike market is definitely in a weird state.
Suppliers super-flush with inventory are struggling to sell stuff. There are solid reasons for that situation.
Talk to just about anybody in the bike caper – they will tell you times are tough. The troubles started with COVID, and not with a downturn. It was a boom. Most activities that were fun were off the table, but riding a bike was still allowed. Travel was a no-go, and interest rates were still almost non-existent, so a lot of people threw their excess dough and energy into bikes.
I like to say my favourite bike is the one I am riding when I should be working, so just about anything with two wheels will qualify on any given day. Doesn’t need to be top of the line, up-to-date, or even manufactured this century.
This happened globally… in the developed world anyway. Nearly every supplier ran out of more or less everything. Lead times for the products people wanted were years long in some cases, and retailers and their customers were very cranky with distributors, who were similarly cranky with their suppliers.
As the retail market clamoured for more, manufacturers cranked up their ability to deliver stuff.
It is perhaps surprising that the general expectation seemed to be that the golden weather would go on forever.
By the time that increased productivity reached the shop floor, most people who were going to had already bought their bike stuff, COVID was now a boring sidebar to life, and the heat was disappearing from the market.
Then a bunch of discretionary cash was hoovered out of the picture by increasing costs of living, and interest rates.
Around the world, big companies have gone bust, teams have folded, sponsorships are drying up. Top riders in some branches of the sport have found themselves out of a gig.
I think the current problem in the bike game is similar to the challenges of capitalism in general: endless growth is impossible to maintain, and it was never going to continue like it did for that brief period during COVID.
There is a lot of product available, new stuff will continue to arrive, and right now things are tight.
But hey! A good bike shop is a wonderful thing. A real bike shop will be kept afloat year-round by the constant need that riders have for parts and service. Of course, it will sell bikes, as many as possible. A good shop will try to ensure that the bike sold matches the customer’s needs.
Meanwhile, out in the woods, things have never been better. There is nothing wrong with the actual sport of riding a bike. Doesn’t matter if the rider is on the latest thing or on a sled from last century - hooning down a trail is as good as it ever was, and many people are out there doing it.
More valuable to their customers will be the advice and insights they pass on. By the time a punter has been absorbed into the sport to the point where escaping is unlikely, they will have figured out which bike shop suits them and will be in there on a regular basis, dropping cash on keeping a bike (or fleet) functional.
Meanwhile, out in the woods, things have never been better. There is nothing wrong with the actual sport of riding a bike. Doesn’t matter if the rider is on the latest thing or on a sled from last century – hooning down a trail is as good as it ever was, and many people are out there doing it. Gravel is growing, bikepacking is growing, eBikes are everywhere.
Which brings me back to my initial sentence – the bike ride.
I got a stellar Saturday a few weeks ago and, for reasons I now forget, I had nothing else that urgently needed doing except bike riding.
As usual when riding familiar territory, I started creating a route in my head on the way to the trails. By the time I got to my start point I had one sketched out.
It was ambitious.
Up As You Do, down Ten of Clubs, on to Corridor, then Turkish, Rock Drop and Rosebank, coffee and muffin, up Soakhole, down K2, up Direct, down Tutaeata, up Apumoana, down Johnsons, up Lobotomy to the top, down Tihi-O-Tawa, back to the top, through Tuhoto Ariki, up Moerangi, down Te Ahi Manawa, up Lookout, down No Brains, along Taura, up Tokorangi, down Fluffies.
Incomprehensible if you have never visited Rotorua but, trust me, it is a big and lavish helping of trails.
I expected it to take a while.
It did. It was great, I met people here and there (see above re. the state of the sport), only got passed twice (two young fellas at the same time, so only counts as once). I fell off twice.
Here is the weird character trait: by the last climb I was out of gas. I had to sit down on the side of the trail and gaze into space for a while. Some complete beginners even asked me if I was alright. I was, I was just rooted.
But I had to finish my route. Once created, it needed completion. Why, I can’t explain. It just did.
