Welcome to the third instalment of Trade Talk, a new regular opinion series inviting you to share your views and perspectives.
Whether you are an independent bike dealer, a workshop mechanic, a brand executive, a distributor, or an industry advocate, Trade Talk is your platform to share insights, spark constructive debate, raise important questions, or offer practical advice on the issues that matter most to your business.
Want to contribute? We invite pieces between 800-1500 words on any trade topic. If you wish to speak freely on sensitive commercial issues, submissions can be published anonymously (subject to confidential verification by our editorial team)
To submit an idea or draft for Trade Talk, reach out directly to the editorial team at ljenkins@datateam.co.uk
Editorial Disclaimer:
The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the ‘Trade Talk’ series belong solely to the individual author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy, position, or views of BikeBiz, its editorial team, or Datateam Business Media LTD. BikeBiz provides this platform for open industry debate and accepts no responsibility or liability for the claims or opinions expressed by guest contributors.
by Krisz Borbely
We spend a great deal of time discussing what’s wrong with the bicycle industry. But how often do we consider our own relationship with it?
The bicycle industry has plenty to talk about: shrinking margins, excess stock, changing consumer behaviour and the pressures facing independent retailers. We discuss what manufacturers should do, how shops need to adapt and what customers are willing to spend.
These are real challenges, and they deserve serious attention. But there’s another part of the picture we rarely examine.
What about us?
The mechanics, shop assistants, managers, business owners, representatives and everyone else who makes up this industry. How do our experiences and expectations affect the way we work? And how does working in the trade affect us?
Looking at ourselves
I’ve spent around 30 years in the bicycle trade, as a mechanic, workshop manager, business owner and, more recently, a freelancer. If anything, those experiences have left me with more questions than answers.
Two people can find themselves in similar circumstances and experience them very differently. One sees opportunity where another sees risk. One feels trusted while another feels overlooked.
Of course, their circumstances may not be identical. We all carry different responsibilities and have different options available to us. But our interpretations matter too. They influence what we notice, what we tolerate and what we decide to do next.
I wonder how often we give those interpretations a second thought.
What determines our value?
Take the way we value our work.
Two mechanics with comparable experience might earn very different amounts. One negotiates a higher rate; another accepts what’s offered. A shop owner might charge confidently for specialist knowledge, while another hesitates to put up prices.
It’s tempting to explain those differences through confidence alone. But local wages, business costs, family commitments and available opportunities also shape what people can realistically ask for.
And money is only one measure of value.
A higher wage might matter most to one person. Another might prize flexibility, the freedom to make decisions, time with their children or the satisfaction of doing a job properly. Someone can feel respected at work while still believing their pay should be higher. Equally, choosing a less lucrative path doesn’t necessarily mean selling yourself short.
So what makes you feel valued?
Your pay packet? The trust you’re given? Being listened to? Knowing your contribution makes a difference?
And how might our different answers influence the expectations we set for ourselves, our colleagues and our businesses?
What drives our decisions?
Why do we stay in a job? Why do we leave? Why does one person open a shop while another, equally experienced, prefer to work for someone else?
Sometimes the reasons are practical: a mortgage, children, a lack of local opportunities or the financial risk of making a change. Sometimes they’re about ambition, enjoyment, loyalty, or simply being comfortable where we are.
And sometimes we follow an assumption for years without noticing it. That owning a business means success. That moving up is always better than staying put. That doing what we’ve always done is the safest option.
I know from experience that freedom and responsibility don’t always feel the way we imagine they will. Running a business can offer independence, but it can also mean carrying other people’s worries home with you. Working for someone else can mean less control on paper, yet more space to enjoy the work itself.
Neither arrangement is inherently better.
Perhaps the useful question is not What should I be doing? but Why am I choosing what I’m doing?
Photo: Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels
What part do we play?
The bicycle industry can feel like something that happens to us: decisions made by suppliers, shifting markets and pressures we have little power to change.
And influence isn’t shared equally. An apprentice cannot shape their workplace in the same way as its owner. An independent shop doesn’t have the resources of a multinational brand.
Still, within those limits, our everyday choices matter.
How does an experienced mechanic respond when an apprentice makes a mistake? Does a manager welcome an idea or dismiss it? How does a shop owner speak about customers when they’re not in the room? What happens when someone admits they don’t know something?
Small interactions accumulate. They help determine whether a workshop becomes somewhere people learn and contribute, or somewhere they keep their heads down.
We are shaped by the industry, and through our participation, we help shape it.
That doesn’t make any one of us responsible for the industry’s problems. It does invite us to notice the part we can influence.
What do we bring to work?
We spend plenty of time discussing customer experience. But what about the experience of the person serving that customer?
A mechanic who feels trusted may approach a difficult repair differently from one who expects criticism. A shop assistant who feels supported may have more patience for a frustrated customer. A business owner worried about keeping the doors open may struggle to be as present as they’d like.
We’re human beings before we’re job titles. We bring our moods, expectations and personal lives into work, just as we take our working experiences home.
This isn’t an argument that a positive attitude can fix an unviable business or poor working conditions. It’s simply a reminder that the people behind the counter and in the workshop have an experience of the industry too.
What might change if we became a little more curious about it?
Why are we still here?
What first brought you into the bicycle trade?
Was it riding, racing, engineering, the pleasure of making things work? Was it a chance job that became a career? And is the reason you stay today the same reason you started?
Some people still love every minute. Others feel worn down. Some have found new reasons to stay, and some have left for lives that suit them better.
I’m interested in all of those stories, especially the ones that challenge my own assumptions.
Perhaps we could start by asking
Rather than offering another prescription for what the industry ought to do, I’d like to hear how people actually experience it.
- What originally attracted you to the bicycle industry, and how has your relationship with it changed over time?
- Do you feel your skills, experience and contribution are valued appropriately? What influences that feeling?
- How has working in the bicycle industry influenced the way you see yourself, your work or the people around you?
- What aspects of your experience in the bicycle trade would you like to change, preserve or understand better?
Whether you’re just starting out, have been here for decades or have already moved on, I’d welcome your perspective. Share as much or as little as you like at krisz@soulscycles.com. I won’t attribute anyone’s comments without permission.
If there’s enough interest, perhaps we can explore the responses in a follow-up article. Not to decide who’s right, but to see what we might learn from one another.
We spend a great deal of time discussing where the bicycle industry is heading. Perhaps understanding why we are where we are, both individually and collectively, would be an interesting place to start.
