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• 12-Feb-11 – A Fat Guy’s Rules for Cyclocross
• 4-Sep-10 – You’ve met Greg. Now meet Craig.
• 11-Jun-10 – A Story So True Only One Name Was Changed
• 12-Apr-10 – A Message for Lance
• 15-Aug-09 – Hey Dude, Where Is My Discount?
• 6-Dec-08 – Top 10 Reasons Why Armstrong Says He and Contador Will Get Along Great
• 30-Sep-08 – How To Enrage A Fixed Gear Riding Hipster
• 2-Aug-08 – By The Power Of Grey Skull – Or, Why The Power Meter Is Ruining My Life
• 14-Jul-08 – Seven Observations From The First Week Of The Tour de France
• 14-May-08 – WHEN THE BARTER SYSTEM DOESN’T WORK THERE’S ALWAYS SUSAN B. ANTHONY
• 12-May-08 – Nadia: The 60 Year-Old Daughter I Never Knew I Had

Hello there. My name’s Bobby. I work at a local bicycle shop (LBS). Actually, I’ve worked in a few bike shops over the years, and I didn’t really set out to. It was just something that sort of happened on its own during college. I was enough of a permanent fixture at my neighborhood bike shop — a human drool fountain posted up near the purple anodized stuff — that one day when the manager realized they were going to be a man down to start the summer bicycle season, he asked if I’d be so kind to mosey to the other side of the counter and start working.

The next day I called and politely canceled my interview for an internship at an advertising agency. Told them my summer plans had changed.

Really, who in their right mind would want to go through all the hassle of buttoning up a shirt every morning just to go work at a job and not get paid when they could take a minimum wage position that didn’t even require shoes?

Next time you’re at your local bicycle shop, look around at the folks working there. Chances are there’s at least a couple like me. On the surface they might seem like over educated, direction less, slackers, but wipe away that layer of grease and/or Cheetos dust and you’ll find someone who’s smart enough to know that real jobs are for suckers.

While a paycheck from a bike shop job seldom features a comma, the lack of money is subsidized through a nice discount (like a crack head getting to work at a crack house a good chunk of our paycheck will find its way back into the cash register) and the sheer entertainment value of the job.

I’ve often described where I work to my career having friends as “adult day care that goes both ways.” Us employees who have better things to do than get a real job have a place to go a few days a week where we in turn do our best to entertain those who have nothing better to than hang out at the bike shop. 95% of these people are fine, upstanding citizens while the remaining 5% are some of the biggest freaks you’ll ever run across this side of the Mos Eisley Space Cantina, which often makes your local bike shop a portal for all that is weird and mysterious around town. Think “Twin Peaks” if the Log Lady rode a bike.