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How NOT to get women to ride bicycles
Jun. 12th, 2012 12:49 pmI've now witnessed something twice around here: an inexperienced female rider shows up for a group ride on a brand-new carbon fiber racing bike and proceeds to complete the ride very, very slowly but determinedly, wobbling along in a most uncomfortable fashion. Watching these women, it's apparent that they are aware they've put a large investment into a brand-new bicycle, but I really have to wonder who they talked to at the bike shop when they made their purchasing decision. Are they really going to get to a point where they enjoy themselves, or will the bike get hung up in the garage in a couple of weeks or months, never to come down again? I also see a shadow of myself, back when I first started shopping for a road bike.
Sometimes, it's hard to know what you're going to want out of something before you get it and have a chance to play around with it a bit - test its limits, see if it works right for you. Computers tend to fall into this category, along with bicycles. Cars probably do, too. Back when I first started road bike shopping, most of what I knew was that I didn't know much about bikes but that I was always the slowest rider when going up hills on the Jolly Roger. My riding companions at the time (all on race bikes) said that if I switched over to a road bike I'd be amazed by how much faster and easier it would be. I'd already seen some good speed gains by switching to slick tires and clipless pedals, so I could imagine what they were talking about.
At the time, I lived a block away from a bike shop, and had been cultivating friendships with the mechanics working there. Occasionally I'd walk past the shop on my way to campus, carrying baked goods, and would stop to chat for a minute and share goodies with the mechanics. In return, they gave me good suggestions on different components that would make riding more pleasant, and taught me a few critical things about bike maintenance (such as how to keep my shifters properly tightened after they work loose). So my first step in beginning to shop for a road bike involved going into that shop and talking to the mechanics about what I was interested in. One of them strongly advocated in favor of a touring frame, and explained a bit about the differences in geometry between a touring frame and a racing frame. I listened, nodded, and then proceeded to visit two different shops to try out the road bikes they had on offer. Shopping around seemed like a good idea. I wasn't convinced that I needed a bike with "woman-specific" components such as brake/shifter levers with shims to make them easier for small hands to grab, so I just tried out a handful of different bikes to see how they all felt. I also didn't know much about different components, but was told that some were better than others. The meaning of "better" was kind of ambiguous. The 56-cm Trek 2200 felt the most comfortable out of everything I rode around on, and it was within my budget, so eventually I settled on that and bought it. I named it Spud. Interestingly, a mechanic who had worked on the Jolly Roger previously had switched over to working in the shop where I bought Spud. When I went to pay for it, he said, "Don't you already have a perfectly good, functional bike? What happened to it? Why do you need another one?" I should have listened to him.
Through all of my bicycling adventures, I'm incredibly grateful that I've kept riding the Jolly Roger, at least for the sake of comparison between it and Spud. My friend in the first bike shop wound up being correct about what would have been right for me. I never planned on racing bicycles - I've always been more interested in long distance riding, where comfort is more important than dialed-in aerodynamics. More than anything, I wish I'd had a chance to read an article like this before buying that bike. Any continued desire to ride long distances has come from enjoyment of such rides on the Jolly Roger. Spud, in comparison, just feels like a machine. I can't imagine what it would be like if my only bike was Spud. Spud is also inconvenient when I have to actually carry things around with me, and has become uncomfortable/problematic for longer distances. I could see hints of myself on Spud in the woman riding the wobbly bike - the light front end and aggressive geometry of a racing bike make them feel very unstable, especially at lower speeds. Someone looking to race generally isn't on the bike for long enough for this to become an issue, but it's a real problem if you're riding for more than six hours and need to sit up for a change of pace. And it's no way to learn how to bike again.
If interest in commuting continues to grow on a national level, I hope that more manufacturers will return to building sensible bicycles that are meant for activities other than racing. I know that there are many mechanics and shops across the country that *are* emphasizing the correct virtues when selling bicycles to people who are interested in picking up the sport. It's hard for me to know the best way to encourage people like these two women, as I know they've already gotten an earful from significant others who ride and race (male), and from smooth-talking (male) salesmen at bike shops. A friend of mine was great about explaining many points about bike management on the road and in groups in a gentle manner, so I didn't feel like I needed to do that, either. Just, sigh. All of this is probably mostly a symptom of the local bike shops around here needing more female mechanics.
Sometimes, it's hard to know what you're going to want out of something before you get it and have a chance to play around with it a bit - test its limits, see if it works right for you. Computers tend to fall into this category, along with bicycles. Cars probably do, too. Back when I first started road bike shopping, most of what I knew was that I didn't know much about bikes but that I was always the slowest rider when going up hills on the Jolly Roger. My riding companions at the time (all on race bikes) said that if I switched over to a road bike I'd be amazed by how much faster and easier it would be. I'd already seen some good speed gains by switching to slick tires and clipless pedals, so I could imagine what they were talking about.
At the time, I lived a block away from a bike shop, and had been cultivating friendships with the mechanics working there. Occasionally I'd walk past the shop on my way to campus, carrying baked goods, and would stop to chat for a minute and share goodies with the mechanics. In return, they gave me good suggestions on different components that would make riding more pleasant, and taught me a few critical things about bike maintenance (such as how to keep my shifters properly tightened after they work loose). So my first step in beginning to shop for a road bike involved going into that shop and talking to the mechanics about what I was interested in. One of them strongly advocated in favor of a touring frame, and explained a bit about the differences in geometry between a touring frame and a racing frame. I listened, nodded, and then proceeded to visit two different shops to try out the road bikes they had on offer. Shopping around seemed like a good idea. I wasn't convinced that I needed a bike with "woman-specific" components such as brake/shifter levers with shims to make them easier for small hands to grab, so I just tried out a handful of different bikes to see how they all felt. I also didn't know much about different components, but was told that some were better than others. The meaning of "better" was kind of ambiguous. The 56-cm Trek 2200 felt the most comfortable out of everything I rode around on, and it was within my budget, so eventually I settled on that and bought it. I named it Spud. Interestingly, a mechanic who had worked on the Jolly Roger previously had switched over to working in the shop where I bought Spud. When I went to pay for it, he said, "Don't you already have a perfectly good, functional bike? What happened to it? Why do you need another one?" I should have listened to him.
Through all of my bicycling adventures, I'm incredibly grateful that I've kept riding the Jolly Roger, at least for the sake of comparison between it and Spud. My friend in the first bike shop wound up being correct about what would have been right for me. I never planned on racing bicycles - I've always been more interested in long distance riding, where comfort is more important than dialed-in aerodynamics. More than anything, I wish I'd had a chance to read an article like this before buying that bike. Any continued desire to ride long distances has come from enjoyment of such rides on the Jolly Roger. Spud, in comparison, just feels like a machine. I can't imagine what it would be like if my only bike was Spud. Spud is also inconvenient when I have to actually carry things around with me, and has become uncomfortable/problematic for longer distances. I could see hints of myself on Spud in the woman riding the wobbly bike - the light front end and aggressive geometry of a racing bike make them feel very unstable, especially at lower speeds. Someone looking to race generally isn't on the bike for long enough for this to become an issue, but it's a real problem if you're riding for more than six hours and need to sit up for a change of pace. And it's no way to learn how to bike again.
If interest in commuting continues to grow on a national level, I hope that more manufacturers will return to building sensible bicycles that are meant for activities other than racing. I know that there are many mechanics and shops across the country that *are* emphasizing the correct virtues when selling bicycles to people who are interested in picking up the sport. It's hard for me to know the best way to encourage people like these two women, as I know they've already gotten an earful from significant others who ride and race (male), and from smooth-talking (male) salesmen at bike shops. A friend of mine was great about explaining many points about bike management on the road and in groups in a gentle manner, so I didn't feel like I needed to do that, either. Just, sigh. All of this is probably mostly a symptom of the local bike shops around here needing more female mechanics.
