The Bike Shop Next Door

It is the hottest day of the summer when I visit the finished space - a space I have watched transform from a dusty vacant storefront around the corner from my house, to Boston's only transportation-oriented bike shop. Carice and the Small Brown Dog are basking in the morning glow of the homey sun-drenched interior. The newly installed air conditioning is blessedly strong. The phone rings, and it appears that someone wants to order a bike. It is official: Bicycle Belle is open for business. 

I have known Carice for about 4 years now - an architect, local bike blogger, DIY addict and lover of vintage 3-speeds. On occasion, we would meet for tea. Funny to think it was only months ago that, engaged in that very activity, we discussed taking the cargo bike plunge. She was considering buying a Dutch bakfiets. I was leaning toward an Xtracycle Radish. We debated the pros and cons of each. 

Now both cargo bikes stand side by side in her very own retail space. It was that quick: from idea, to decision, to action, to completion, in just a couple of months. And yet, what happened felt neither hasty nor impulsive. Sometimes an idea develops dormantly, swirling around under the surface for years, ripening, just waiting for something to crack that surface open. In the Spring of 2013, Carice felt that something and the idea became reality. And once the decision was made, her organisational skills, work ethic, and industry contacts from years of bike blogging, made everything happen swiftly. A bit of luck with the retail space cinched the deal. 

The retail space had several compelling qualities to recommend it. First, the address. Situated on the border of Somerville and Cambridge (quite literally: half the building is on one side of the town line, half on the other), it sits at the start of Beacon Street - a bicycle super-highway through two of Boston's most bike-friendly boroughs. With its triangular footprint, the structure is distinct and no doubt an architect's dream. Windows on all sides, the interior is penetrated by gorgeous natural light. The wrap-around storefront also makes the wares on display highly visible to local traffic. 

Finally - and rather remarkably - the space was available for immediate occupancy. Carice saw an opportunity and took it.

At the start of July Bicycle Belle was soft-launched under the slogan "cycling for city life." At present, the core collection includes transportation bicycles from Bobbin, Papillionnaire, Beater, Paper Bike and Soma, cargo bikes from Workcycles, Xtracycle and Kinn, and a slew of accessories from the likes of Basil, Brooks, Cleverhood, Vespertine, Yepp, Burley, Iva Jean, Velo Orange, et cetera. With utility/ transport/ city/ family bikes (circle your preferred term) more popular in North America than ever, there is nothing unusual about the inventory - save for the fact that a store with an exclusive focus on this market did not already exist in Boston, a major US city teeming with bicycle commuters.

Over the years, many of us have wondered why that was so. Not only was there no transportation-specific bike shop, but many shops that did try to carry some of that merchandise would often drop it after only a year or two - citing lack of local interest. "Boston is too aggressive of a city for these types of bikes" bike shop owners have told me - meaning cargo bikes, utility bikes. And yet, more and more of "these types of bikes" kept filling the streets. Clearly locals were buying them, and they were traveling out of town to do so - or else ordering online. Bike shops in places as remote as Oregon, Florida, California and Washington State have reported routinely selling bikes to customers in Boston.

One possible explanation for the discrepancy, is that the shops citing a lack of local interest have not been sufficiently "into" utility bikes to successfully sell them. When you don't fully believe in a product, customers sense that and failure can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. By committing wholly to the utility bike target market, Bicycle Belle hopes to experience a more positive response.

Will the approach work? After only weeks in business, it is far too early to tell. It's worked for a dozen or so successful city bike shops that have sprung up throughout the US. But there are also those that have failed. Since opening its doors, Bicycle Belle has received a healthy amount of orders. But initial buzz does not mean long-term success. In other words: Let's wait and see.

Last Thursday night, Bicycle Belle held its official opening party. Due to limited space, it was intended to be a semi-invitational, low key affair. Yet the turnout was impressive and the atmosphere charged with excitement.

It was good to meet local activists, such as Jessica Mink.

And local bike bloggers, like Bike Style Boston 

and Car Free Cambridge.

There were also plenty of familiar faces, including cartoonist Bikeyface and fashion model Vorpal Chortle.

Many of those in attendance were dressed up - lots of skirts, heels, suits - all arriving by bike of course.

At first I thought they'd dressed up for the party, but actually this was simply what people had worn to the office, since the party was immediately after many finished work.

Another trend of the evening was pregnancy - I spotted at least half a dozen pregnant cyclists in attendance. (Perhaps a future group ride theme?)

It was a good evening of wine, food and sparkly conversation, that showcased Boston's utility and family bicycling scene. 

And all the while, outside, a steady procession of cyclists could be observed through the storefront windows.

Business as usual for the end of the workday commute down Beacon Street. 

Local reactions to Bicycle Belle have been mostly positive, of the "It's about time!" variety. As anyone in the industry knows, a bike shop is never a get rich scheme - not even close. But the business must prove sustainable, and I sincerely hope this one does. Boston has been crying out for a resource like this for some time, and it's exciting that we finally have it - in my very own neighbourhood, no less. If you're in the area, drop by and pay the Bicycle Belle a visit! More shots of the space and opening party here.

Bike Fit, How Does It Work?

Preparing my roadbike for the first skinny tire ride of Spring, I realised it's now been over a year since I've had it. And, looking at the somewhat unsightly spacer poking out above the stem I realised something else: My road position hasn't changed over that time. That bit of steerer was left uncut in case the handlebars turned out to be too low for comfort, which did not happen. The spacer below the stem has remained in place as well. Considering that prior to a year ago my position was in constant flux, it's nice to finally feel settled in.

Alas, this has not given me any great insights into the topic of bike fit. I have seen huge variations in the positions of people I ride with, each of them apparently suiting the rider just fine. I have also been exposed to a number of fit philosophies - each yielding a different conclusion about the size and setup of the bike I ought to be riding. Seasoned cyclists often advise new riders to "have an expert fitting." But depending on which philosophy the fitter subscribes to, results will vary.

Since my bike is a Seven and Seven Cycles are known for their fit methodology, I am occasionally asked to describe the fit process I went through. While I don't think my experience was typical, this seems like a good occasion to share it, so here goes:

When I first tried a Seven demo bike two summers ago, they set it up to match the position of my own bicycle. At the time, I was riding a bike with a long top tube, short stem, handlebars slightly above saddle height, and saddle pushed back to slacken an already relaxed seat tube even further. Setting up the demo bike to match mine was contrary to what I had expected going into the test ride. But Seven's Rob Vandermark suggested I start from a point of familiarity. Set up in this manner, the Seven felt good, and with the fit already familiar I could focus on its ride quality and speed. But this was a long term demo, and when I began taking part in fast group rides that summer I found myself squirming around: bending my elbows dramatically and scooting forward in the saddle. When I communicated this to Rob, he suggested some small changes, including moving the saddle forward and lowering the bars. When this adjustment was made, it felt like a step in the right direction. Eventually I was riding the bike with a straight seatpost and the handlebars placed as low as the frame would allow. It still wasn't quite right, as the frame was simply too large. But it felt better than my previous position.

Later that Fall, I built up a small vintage racing frame with modern components, based on the ideas of fit I picked up from the summer's experience. This bike had a short top tube and long stem, and handlebars just below saddle height. Though I sensed it could still use some tweaking, overall I was now very pleased with my position. When I decided to buy a Seven for the coming spring, I came in with this bike and was measured again, as well as observed and asked questions while I rode on a trainer. The kind of things that were examined and discussed were: my cadence, where I keep my hands on the bars, how much time I spend out of the saddle, my back and shoulder position, the position of my feet on the pedals, and lots of other little things that I no doubt missed. Moreover, this was also the time I became involved with the Ride Studio Cafe cycling club (a Seven Cycles dealer) - taking part in their group rides and loitering in the shop. So my formal fit experience was no doubt supplemented by their getting to know me and my riding style. There is talk of a famous 50 page questionnaire that Seven customers fill out, but I have never seen such a document; I assume it was filled out on my behalf during and after the fitting session. I did sign off on a build form in the end, and hoped for the best.

When I got the new bike, it fit differently than anything I had ridden previously, but I was left with no doubt it was the "right" fit for me. There was a sense of everything falling into place. My hands knew where the hoods were and plopped right down; my legs felt integrated with the cranks and pedals. I didn't question any aspect of the positioning. Any other roadbike I've ridden since, I try to adjust to the same specs. Depending on a bike's size and geometry, it doesn't always work - but the closer I can get it, the better it feels to ride.

And by better, I don't mean abstract notions of "position X will make me faster/ more comfortable than position Y." Neither do I have a template in mind of what constitutes proper road fit or of what looks correct. Rather, I mean physically better - proven through personal experience to feel both more comfortable, more efficient and less fatiguing. I notice, for instance, that contrary to one popular narrative, my back hurts less with the handlebars set a bit lower. And contrary to another, my legs feel better with the saddle at a steeper, rather than a slacker angle over the bottom bracket. I don't presume that the same holds true for every rider and for every style of riding, but I can't ignore evidence of what works for me. No doubt in the future, my position on the bike will continue to evolve. At what point and in which direction I don't know yet. But for now it might be safe to cut down the extra bit of steerer - affectionately referred to as the "sternum puncher" by some of my riding friends.

Funny thing: I know about half a dozen female roadcyclists who are almost identical to me in size and who all do similar types of riding. When we try each other's bikes, hilarity ensues: The fit is all wrong. Yet we each find our own positions comfortable. And all of us have had expert fittings.

As these things go, I sometimes get bike fit advice from strangers when I am out and about. It is split pretty much evenly between (a)"Your setup is way too aggressive," (b)"Your setup is not aggressive enough," and (c)"That bike is set up just right!" I have a feeling that no matter what my bike looked like, this distribution would remain about the same.

The Service-Oriented Bike Shop

As I continue to gain familiarity with the bicycle industry, I am always curious to observe different models of bike shops in action. There is so much variety in inventory, atmosphere and business practices. Some bike shops cater to athletes, others to everyday riders. Some carry high-end products, others are budget-minded. Some are diversified in their offerings, others are quite specific. One model that I find particularly interesting is that of the service-oriented bike shop - a model where the focus is on service and repairs rather than on sales. 

In the Boston area we have a few shops that lean in that direction, and one that truly exemplifies it. Hub Bicycle in Cambrige is described by its owner Emily as a "pro bicycle repair" shop. 

Although an authorised dealer of a variety of brands with products available to order, on any given day Hub Bicycle carries little inventory. What they do carry consists mostly of accessories: lights, fenders, racks, baskets, bells. 

There is no online store. Everything is about the in-person experience, the here and now.

And the customer who drops by for a tune-up, repair, or overhaul gets exactly that, instead of being encouraged to buy new parts or upgrade. 

There is lots of flat fixing - Every time I've been to the shop, at least two customers had come in with flats within relatively short time periods. While elsewhere I have seen mechanics roll their eyes at this, at Hub it is treated as entirely normal. No job is too small. 

The service-oriented shop is a great place to spot interesting vintage bikes, since bicycles of all ages and conditions are welcomed. Examining this saddle, I learned that Belt was a "Fujita Leatherworks" brand - supplied on early Fuji bikes.

Obscure French 10-speed from the '70s? Department store mountain bike from the '90s? Something with a no-name coaster brake hub of uncertain vintage? Other shops might tremble or cringe, but here such machines are welcome with open tool chest.

At the service-oriented shop, you are also likely to see quirky patch-up jobs and DIY repairs. 

Funky decorations.

There are frames brought in for custom builds, which the shop is also happy to do - following the customer's suggesting their own.

There are bikes in for 650B conversions, single speed conversions, road to city conversions. 

There are clinics and instructional courses for those who want to learn how to perform their own repairs and maintenance. 

But for the most part, basic tune-ups and quick fixes for walk-in customers are what's happening. 

The success of a service and repairs shop depends on the local culture. Hub Bicycle is situated in a busy, urban part of Cambridge MA, where it is very feasible to get walk-ins. Local cyclists will drop by on their lunch break or after work when they need something done. And when a shop like this is around, word quickly spreads. Lots of people in Boston own vintage 3-speeds, 10-speeds and old mountain bikes, as well as quirky modern city bikes that the mainstream shops don't quite know what to do with. A centrally located bike shop that is willing - and able - to work on such machines with a quick turn around time becomes a go-to resource. 

Service-oriented bike shops are popular in countries where cycling for transportation is commonplace and doing one's own repairs is not. In Vienna I knew of several bike shops that opened at 7am, so that cyclists could stop in on their way to work. Passing by in the morning, there would sometimes be a queue out the door. Broken chains, worn brake pads, snapped cables, flat tires - absolutely normal to roll your bike to the shop and get it fixed while chatting with other customers and staff - much like Ellie Blue has recently discussed doing.

In North America, bike shops focusing on service and repairs are comparatively rare. As more people start riding for transport, perhaps that could change.

Civia Halsted: the Compact Basket Bike

Civia is a Minnesota-based manufacturer of transportation and utility bicycles, known for its unisex designs and reasonable price points. I do not see many Civia bikes in New England. But for some time now I've admired the look of their Halsted model and wondered what it was like to ride. Last week I finally got the chance to find out.

The Broadway Bicycle School in Cambridge, MA uses one of these as a shop bike, and they allowed me to take it out for a spin. 

The Civia Halsted is a modern variation of a classic front load delivery bicycle. It is designed around a standard size (26") rear wheel and a small (20") front wheel, above which sits a frame-mounted platform. This type of construction creates extra space to accommodate a large front load, whilst also positioning the load lower to the ground. 

Because the platform is connected to the bicycle's frame rather than the fork or handlebars, it remains independent from steering. This, together with its low placement, is aimed to minimise the front load's impact on the bicycle's handling. 

The front platform ("rack deck") is rated for 50lb of carry capacity. It can be used on its own, or built up as a front crate/basket using modular side panels (as shown in the pictures). The deck and side panels are made of HDPE plastic. The tubes securing the platform to the bicycle's frame are steel, painted to match the bike.

The Halsted is available in one size only, and will fit riders between 5'2" and 6'5". The frame features a dropped and moderately sloping top tube. Thanks to the small front wheel, this results in a very manageable standover height for someone of my size (I am 5' 6 1/2"). I did not have to swing my leg over the back of the bike, but was able to step over the top tube after slightly leaning it toward me. 

Another feature of the Halsted frame is the possibility for attaching a plaque to advertise one's business. This is nicely integrated, and makes for a fabulous-looking shop bike. 

The Halsted's cro-moly frame and fork are TIG-welded in Taiwan. The finishing is smooth and attractive. The straight, unicrown fork is tiny, on account of the small front wheel, and looks good on the bike. The colour pictured is from 2012, and the current one (shown here) looks to be a light periwinkle-gray.  

The front wheel is equipped with a disc brake.

The rear with a v-brake.

The standard drivetrain is 1x9 derailleur gearing, but the semi-horizontal dropouts make it possible to build the frame up with an internally geared hub.

The "cockpit" includes a threadless stem, swept-back handlebars, rubberised grips, city brake levers and MTB style shifter.  

Fenders, a rear rack or lighting are not standardly included with the bike. A double-legged kickstand is included (though I did not find it especially stable in windy conditions). 

The low bottom bracket is great for toe-down stopping and full leg extension while pedaling. There is no chance of toe overlap with the small front wheel. The components included in the stock build were easy and comfortable to use. 

Considering that the Broadway Bicycle School has been using this bike for over a year and storing it outdoors for large portions of the day, I thought it to be in good condition. Aside from surface rust around some bolts and components (namely the disc brake and rear derailleur), I saw no sign of weather-related damage.

My Civia Halsted test ride consisted of cycling down the road to buy groceries, then riding home to drop them off. After this I circled the neighbourhood with the front basket unloaded, before taking pictures and returning the bike to the shop. In total it was about 4 miles, on a cold and windy day. The groceries I carried were distributed between two shopping bags, and included heavy items such as milk, wine, vegetables and a 5lb sack of apples. In addition to this, I carried my camera and laptop bag, as well as a couple of books and some spare clothing. Loading all of these things into the crate, I felt that it could have been made a bit deeper, with the modular panels sturdier (they rattled a bit in motion). But I was nonetheless able to stuff everything in securely, without the use of bungee cords.

The Halsted's handling felt distinct, but fine, with and without weight in the front basket. Steering did not require special effort, though it had a quality to it that felt particular to this bike. I could definitely feel the weight in the front, but this did not result in any difficulty controlling the bicycle. One thing I noticed, was that I was taking corners wider than normally, but I cannot be sure that this is related to the handling and not to my awareness of the wide front crate. The bike rolled easily uphill and generally felt fun. I also liked being able to keep my eye on my stuff in front of me at all times. In that sense, it was kind of like riding a larger version of my Brompton.

I did not see the Halsted's geometry chart until after my test ride. But once I did, I noticed the high-trail front end (trail in the 80s, according to my calculations). Some might consider this unusual for a bike designed to carry so much weight in the front. While I cannot say how the Halsted handles at its maximum carry capacity, with a moderate front load I thought it very ridable. 

When I look at pictures of Civia Halsteds in use, it is apparent that the bikes can also carry substantial weight in the rear. Owners attach rear racks, child seats, even Xtracycle extensions. The Broadway Bicycle School often uses a trailer with theirs.

Still, one major benefit of the small front wheel design, is that it increases the bike's carry capacity while keeping the wheelbase reasonable (1134mm). The overall size of the Halsted is the same as that of a typical city bike, and at 33lb it is manageable to lift and maneuver. The compact basket-bike design is worth considering for those interested in a front-load utility bike. And priced at $1,195 the Civia Halsted is a good value.

Many thanks to the Broadway Bicycle School for the test ride! More pictures of this storied local establishment here.