A Love Letter - 10 Years in the Bike Shop

I was in the seventh grade and there were only a few weeks of classes left. Being a member of the eldest grade in the school, along with the naive confidence of a young teen, gave me an embarrassing swagger. On this particular Friday, my teacher was at the end of her rope. “Matt. Quitte. Maintenant,” she yelled in french, and I was forced to leave the class. It was bike week at my school, and that day, on the lower field, I met James Wilson. And this is where our story begins.

James, the owner of Obsession: Bikes, was volunteering fixing bikes and I enjoyed spending the afternoon as his apprentice. He later came asking around the school, “does anyone know who Matt’s mom is.” My mom came home that night with a very exciting job opportunity for me.

My first summer at the shop was a breeze, I had been warned that it would be busy and boy, was I run off my feet. There was so much to know: helmets, panniers, shoes, road bikes, derailleurs, mountain bikes, pedals, jackets, fenders, knee pads, tires, and kids bikes. And so much to do: greet clients, pickup bikes for repairs, run the cash register and answer the phones. I loved it all. After working all day, my remaining time in the evening was spent diving into the articles on PinkBike and NSMB.

Despite the frenzy in the former Bank of Hamilton building on 94 Lonsdale Ave, built in 1911, the bike shop became my haven. I got bullied in highschool. Badly. But the bike shop was my safe place, a place where I was cool, and where I was respected. After a while the senior staff would yell across the sales floor instead of running to a computer to check for information: “Matt what’s the head angle on a 2016 Pivot Firebird?” and I would reply grinning, “65 degrees flat.” I was damn proud to be a part of Obsession:Bikes, a finely tuned machine and a community hub.

After my first few paycheques, I wanted to build a dream bike. There was no way that I, as a bike guy, was going to be seen rolling around on a stock rig. Bikes have a soul, a personality, and there is no better way to connect with a machine than to piece it together yourself and know how every part works to complete the whole. Built with a Shimano XTR drivetrain, Saint Brakes, Nobl wheels on Onyx hubs, a Chromag finishing kit, and an Öhlins fork, it was a blingy build. At that time, Öhlins only made the RXF 36 in a 29er variant, and with the extra ~25mm axle to crown length, I was running an eye popping 63 degree head angle, back in 2016. A sled that long and brakes that touchy had my 100 pound frame sliding like a hack down every rock face in North Vancouver. But none of that frankenstein-ish handling really mattered, because at one of the local highschool races, Andrew Shandro asked to try my bike. And that, in the bike world as I viewed it at the age of 16, was the highest form of flattery. As for the RXF 36, it blew a seal a month in because of air bleeding from the negative ramp chamber. But again, I didn’t really care because there I was ‘riding fast and loose’, and breaking parts to boot.

Life in the bike industry, and the people I’ve been able to connect with, has enabled a healthy amount of perspective. Come Christmas time, Obsession runs a program called Wonder Wheels, in tandem with Family Services of the North Shore. The program collects used bikes, fixes them up, and matches them with kids whose families can't afford a two-wheeler for Christmas. It was humbling hearing the experiences of the families we were able to help. It really did bring a tear to my eye.

The next few summers I got into the mechanical side of things and the experienced techs taught me how to build and properly dial-in a bicycle, like a finely tuned instrument.

Despite being a beacon of hope within the community, with consumer direct models being established, distributors slashing margins, and the current situation of economic and political uncertainty, bike shops have fallen on uncertain times. Sidesaddle Bikes in Vancouver will be closing its doors on March 21st, and if you’ve done a tour around your community, it won’t be hard to see that every shop is offering inventory at unsustainable, ‘going out of business prices.’ So please, I ask you, treat your local shop with respect.

The ‘friend discount’ is no discount at all. If you want to be a friend to your local shop, pay the asking price for the product, and I promise, they will take care of you in return.* If you really care about saving 15% on a tire or a set of brake cables, you are welcome to die on that hill, but then don’t complain your local bike shop is no longer around when you need help with a warranty claim or a complex repair requiring a veteran mechanic, in addition to the trail building and local race events they support in the community.

*Rational self-interest and mutual exchange, no harm transactions form the basis of capitalism that Adam Smith philosophized about in the 18th century.

And if you’re considering purchasing a bike and ever need advice, I sincerely hope, for both of our sakes, you'll wander into your local shop, or find me at Obsession on Sundays. Bike Church is a thing, and its doors will always be open to welcome you.