Working a year in the bike shop

Being that i have done very little reportage of my experiences at the shop, some of you may not know that I actually work as a mechanic and sales/person at Stevie's Happy Bikes in Corrales, New Mexico.  Since last January I have seen a tremendous amount of new and old design, perspectives, abused/loved bikes and various customer/employee/distributor gripes and praise.  There has been so much in terms of repetition, obscurity, quaintness and both consistency and inconsistency that has allowed me to get more real world experience needed to confidently step further in the direction of independent bicycle repair, even after having done so for friends and acquaintances on and off for 9 years now.  From embarrassing mechanical faux pau to on the fly problem solving, the wealth of experience gained from having worked these 9-6, 3 days a week shifts for the last year has been invaluable to me.  Discovering first hand, on an ultra-regular basis what it is that people want and need and conversely do not want or claim to not need has allowed me to hone in what I believe to be critical skills for any bicycle mechanic or DIY neighborhood bike tinkerer.  You simply need feedback, hands on experience and failure to discover what works and what doesn't; Stevie's has helped grant me that for the last year, and I am so glad that I have been brought on to wrench and work with customers as well as learn and continue to grow.

What would inevitably become a common sight, Stevie (front) hauling
gear in the child carrier, Ben (middle) breaking in his new and soon to be
 favorite toy, and Vaughn (rear) getting silly for the photo.  A commute into the shop..

Shop Life

 Nearly every day entering the shop I was greeted to the sight of something new and different; cruiser, mountain, bmx, road, fixed gear, triathalon, city, dirt jumper, touring, unicycle, trike and tandem ect.  From China to Mexico, Japan to Belgium, bikes of all types and ages (both ultra vintage and uber new school) were presented in a variety of condition.  Though sometimes relatively well kept, most bikes were very much hammered: left outside to the elements or conversely ridden in a relentless fashion with not even the slightest basic upkeep.  This is and will always be part and parcel to the job, and to expect otherwise is simply naivety.

To do this kind of work for a living you really have to love it and all of its facets, some being far more along the lines of communication than actual repair.  Dealing with customers while being understanding, flexible and concise is just as integral to bicycle repair as turning a wrench.  It is by seeing that there is no one without the other that the human interaction factor becomes equally enjoyable and exciting of an experience as repairing bicycles themselves.  There will always be peripheral banter and heavily opinionated personalities that want to dominate conversations or chime into flex their proverbial guns, but only patience and death via kindness will tame the beast. Being a great bike mechanic means being completely comfortable with the fact that many, if not most are going to have substantially differing points of view than yourself.  From the type of bikes to ride to the intended areas in which to ride them, everyone has a unique opinion, preferred bicycle style and level of interest.  It is simply in both the mechanic and customers best interest to be understanding and respectful of various perspectives.

This is our first point of contact.  Ghetto bike love at its finest!

For the love of the wrench

It takes a particular kind of individual to work with the same variables day in-day out and still be just as motivated and intrigued as one was from the beginning.  Some get burnt out, tired, or just simply annoyed with the environment and what comes with the territory; sometimes to the degree that something new must come along for them to stick around.  Working for/as a bike shop on paper seems simple enough; repair two wheeled things and then ride/return them to their respective owner/s.  Crude though the aforementioned may be, there is some truth to it: we do fix bikes, and then fix more of them when we are finished.

 When it comes to doing what I do, the bottom line is that I first and foremost enjoy it.  No one ever forced me to do this work and it is for that very reason that I can choose to walk away if I ever decide, for whatever reason, that it is no longer for me.  I simply love bicycles, riding them, learning  the history, admiring the aesthetics of various design and the beautiful art of gracefully propelling one into motion.  For me it was always passion before money, because just like with my previous job as a metal fabricator, there is very little revenue involved.  The idea of gritting your teeth as you go home tired, dirty and underpaid doing something you don't care for is seemingly insane to me.  I couldn't imagine enduring either the monetary or physiological sacrifice involved if I didn't truly care about what I was doing.  For me repairing and building bicycles has so much importance and so many benefits (I will save that rant for another post) that I simply feel blessed to be able to do what I do and get by with the standard of living that I am able to maintain in the process.  I look forward to making the most out of the time that I continue to spend at Stevie's and look to absorb as much as possible in the process.  I am still very much a student and recognize that I must acknowledge this in order to continue learning, craft new approaches, modify outdated points of view and allow for new experiences to unfold to their fullest potential.

 I would love to thank everyone that has helped me along the way.  From the regulars at Stevie's who have helped contribute to the playful dynamic to the people who have reached out for bike work outside of the shop to help me keep some extra cash on hand; I am massively grateful.  It's been a hell of a ride so far and I very much look forward to the rest, whatever that may look like.