From Bicycling:
IF LOCAL SHOPS WANT TO SURVIVE, IT'S TIME TO LOSE THE ATTITUDE.
BY GLORIA LIU
Jun 12, 2019
When Richard Boothman’s bike was stolen in 2014, it seemed like the universe was extending him an opportunity.
Then 59 years old, Boothman had only just rediscovered the joy of cycling. In law school, he’d ridden a sleek steel, lugged Schwinn Le Tour road bike. But after he started his family, cycling fell by the wayside. Old high school football injuries led to orthopedic surgeries which led to gained weight. After the kids left for college, though, Boothman started eating better, exercising more. He shed some pounds. He thought about cycling again.
His wife bought him a Trek Navigator—an aluminum comfort bike with bubbly 26-inch wheels. “It was a barge,” he says. “It felt like it weighed 30 or 40 pounds.” But Boothman used it to commute to work, and fell in love with being in the fresh air. When the Navigator was stolen, it was good timing. He had been thinking he might deserve a nicer bike anyway. He set aside $1,000—more money than he’d ever imagined spending on a bike. He was excited.
But then he started visiting bike shops. Five-foot-ten and (at the time) about 250 pounds, Boothman felt what he describes as “a definite snob factor” when he walked into the first few shops near his home in Ann Arbor, Michigan. “It was clear when I walked through the door that I was being typecast,” he says. Though he wanted something sportier, sales people kept directing him toward other comfort bikes, even trying to push him back onto a Trek Navigator.
One experience stood out in particular. A salesman, who was visibly annoyed to have to get a ladder and pull down the only comfort bike in the shop from the ceiling rack, started referring to Boothman as “Clyde”: “Hey Clyde,” he said, “why don’t you sign this release for your test ride?”
“I thought it was kinda odd, but I didn’t think much of it,” Boothman remembers. “About a year later, I learned people of my size are called Clydesdales.”
Full article HERE.
IF LOCAL SHOPS WANT TO SURVIVE, IT'S TIME TO LOSE THE ATTITUDE.
BY GLORIA LIU
Jun 12, 2019
When Richard Boothman’s bike was stolen in 2014, it seemed like the universe was extending him an opportunity.
Then 59 years old, Boothman had only just rediscovered the joy of cycling. In law school, he’d ridden a sleek steel, lugged Schwinn Le Tour road bike. But after he started his family, cycling fell by the wayside. Old high school football injuries led to orthopedic surgeries which led to gained weight. After the kids left for college, though, Boothman started eating better, exercising more. He shed some pounds. He thought about cycling again.
His wife bought him a Trek Navigator—an aluminum comfort bike with bubbly 26-inch wheels. “It was a barge,” he says. “It felt like it weighed 30 or 40 pounds.” But Boothman used it to commute to work, and fell in love with being in the fresh air. When the Navigator was stolen, it was good timing. He had been thinking he might deserve a nicer bike anyway. He set aside $1,000—more money than he’d ever imagined spending on a bike. He was excited.
But then he started visiting bike shops. Five-foot-ten and (at the time) about 250 pounds, Boothman felt what he describes as “a definite snob factor” when he walked into the first few shops near his home in Ann Arbor, Michigan. “It was clear when I walked through the door that I was being typecast,” he says. Though he wanted something sportier, sales people kept directing him toward other comfort bikes, even trying to push him back onto a Trek Navigator.
One experience stood out in particular. A salesman, who was visibly annoyed to have to get a ladder and pull down the only comfort bike in the shop from the ceiling rack, started referring to Boothman as “Clyde”: “Hey Clyde,” he said, “why don’t you sign this release for your test ride?”
“I thought it was kinda odd, but I didn’t think much of it,” Boothman remembers. “About a year later, I learned people of my size are called Clydesdales.”
Full article HERE.
