In much of the third world bicycles are capital equipment. You can change a life for $150.
Periodically some corporate giant decides to step into the bike business to show us rubes how it's done.
I’m turning into That Guy I Used to Hate … The Expert Counselor.
Let's put $15 million per year back into retailer's pockets, and $7.5 million into advocacy's
It took a diagnosis of metastatic cancer to turn me into an optimist.
The most encouraging industry trend in the past two decades has nothing to do with products. It’s the increase in industry advocacy awareness and the closely related rise of Bikes Belong.
Dear Readers, There’s been some confusion among our readers about recent changes to our website, so I wanted to let you know what we’re doing and what we’re planning.
With tongue firmly in cheek, a wheelbuilder makes the case for ceramic bearings.
Why are all bike taillights cheap pieces of crap?
Mr. McQuaid, are you listening?
The owner of neuvationcycling.com weighs in on the brick-and-mortar vs. online debate
Maybe getting rid of bar codes will curtail price checking apps?
Even Vegas-haters had to admit: This was the best Interbike show in recent memory.
And what a difference six months makes! This spring, the questions were flying:
I confess: I’m conciliatory toward car drivers. And hard as hell on my fellow cyclists.
That’s right I didn’t see anything in the product area that blew me away. And, of course, I’m sure I’ll get comments from some manufacturer that says they had the new "XYZ" wheel, bars, stem, frame material or saddle profile. Sorry I missed your freaking innovation.
Bike racing: Meh. I used to be a tifosi. Stopped paying attention about the time Roy Knickman retired. Dave Towle would un-Friend me on Facebook if he only knew how little I cared.
Ray Keener: OK, I’ve gotten in trouble before writing about the Gender Gap in cycling, so I’ve brought in a partner, Diane Lees from The Outspoken Cyclist in Cleveland, Ohio, to share the heat.
Streets are narrow in Amsterdam. Minds are not. An atmosphere of tolerance prevails. That most basic freedom, personal mobility, is joyfully expressed in the ceaseless stream of cyclists gliding about the city.
As a former Category One racer and advertising salesman, my friend John Kodin is no stranger to pain, so his response to an invitation to participate in the annual Seattle to Portland ride long ago was telling. “If I want to be miserable,” he said, “all I have to do is put a piece of sandpaper in my shorts, have my wife squirt me with the hose, and ride around the block a few times.”