March Newsletter Hi Neighbors, Happy March! ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

*Take 7, March 12, 2025 *

Slow News.

Hi Neighbors,

I have a hard time explaining to people what my job is. I don’t really think of myself as a bike mechanic (even though I am, at least one in training), I don’t really think of myself as a manager (even though I am, at least in theory), and I don’t really think of myself as anything else that would succinctly sum up my job here at Scenic Routes in a way that makes sense to my Oklahoma City relatives or my Grad School advisors. I usually land somewhere around “well I work at a bike shop…” which is generally met with polite smiles and nods, but not a single lick of understanding about what it is I do all day.

This month I cut the zip ties holding my WALD 139 basket to my Pass and Stow three rail rack and replaced it with an extra wide milk crate big enough to fit a rapidly growing puppy with more energy than I know how to contain. The furthest I’ve ridden my bike since the arrival of Bennie is to Ocean Beach and back. Suddenly, a new job emerged in life. One full of sharp teeth, piss on the floor, and a shocking ability to blow through expensive toys. And although my wallet is a little lighter and my eyes are a little more tired, the work doesn’t feel like work. In fact, it feels like a gift.

There’s this thing that Jay sometimes says that he heard from Luke Spray (that I’m pretty sure Luke read in a book) that goes a little something like this:

*“We often think we care for something because we love it, but more often than not, we love something because we have been given the opportunity to care for it. *

When we picked Bennie up from the overcrowded shelter, I was given the opportunity to hold her smelly, dirty body in my arms and share my warmth with her. I spoke to her quietly and fed her more treats than she had ever seen in her life. I rubbed her sweet puppy belly, adorned our house with dog beds in every corner and played music to lull her to sleep. She was a stranger, and I didn’t know her, but somehow, by just doing what I felt needed to be done for her, I loved her.

Scenic Routes was a stranger when I walked in the doors. I didn’t understand the entity that was the community center, and frankly had no idea what running a small business meant. I didn’t know how to fix a flat tire, open accounts, or stock inventory. But I did know how to bake cookies, and so I did. Scenic Routes took care of me and my bike, and I wanted to take care of its people, so I vowed never to show up empty handed. I would come bearing mediocre gluten free goodies to share while Jay adjusted the rear derailleur (again) on my busted Marin. I would decorate entire cakes for no other celebration than the fact that the wheels on my bike were still spinning. Chocolate chip, peanut butter, gingersnap! It was like I was trying to Pavlov them into working on my junk bike by showing up with sweets, but really, I was doing something for me.

Soon, a delivery of cookies turned into showing up to wrap bars, and then fix flats, and then answer the phone and check people in. All of a sudden, I did know something, and what I knew was that I loved this bike shop. What was once an unknown place became my favorite place to be. The people who once were strangers became my friends - my community. What I cared for became what I love.

I think I must be the luckiest person in the world, to have a job description that could read:

Be someone that cares.

When you walk into Scenic Routes, you will be taken care of. I will sit with you while you painstakingly decide which water bottle cage matches the vibe of your bike, I will get on the floor with you next to the bike corral and ask if that rack install is going well, I will listen to you tell me the tale of your bikepacking trip and wipe the dirt that accumulated off your frame. I will cheer you on when you ride down the sidewalk outside the shop (your first time on a bike in years!) and give you my opinion on helmet fit. I’ll take you on bike rides and send you emails and debate for way too long about the perfect song for our instagram posts. I will care.

Alas, having a community space that is functionally a business poses challenges in our society built on extractive capitalism. There is always more room for caring, but we are constantly fighting the battle of giving away everything we own and keeping the doors open.

We’d like to think, though, that in addition to being absolute pushovers in the caring department, we are relatively smart people with good ideas about how we can expand our reach. Our newest bid for community support goes a little something like this:

Every couple of days a new, timid bright-eyed cyclist comes into shop asking if we sell used bikes and inevitably leave because they can't spend $1000 on a used bike or $700 or $400 and then (best case scenario) they buy a real pile o' junk from Facebook Marketplace for $120 that needs $300 in repair to make it suck just a tiny bit less. Worst case, they end up with a piece of trash that can't get them to the end of their block, let alone their shit job they’re trying to unionize.

But we can't just give away bikes to these people, right?! We have to worry about things like rent and electricity and payroll so that our people can pay rent and electricity. But what if we could? What if we could say "this bike is $1000 and I know you can only afford $300 but if you can scrape together $500 we'll give you this $1000 bike for $500 because there's a community of people who think that a couple hundred bucks shouldn't be the difference between a life changing dream machine and a market street flat factory.”

This works a little different from our regular membership program - it’s a one time (or however often your heart desires) donation that will be used to subsidize Quercus bikes for folks. We will give a bike away - we have no problem giving things away generally but we like the idea of folks having a little skin in the game - we will ask people what they can afford, can they squeeze a bit more than that? And we’ll (you’ll) take care of the rest.

Do we have any way to keep people from taking advantage of us or using us when they’re not really in need? Nah. And, honestly, we’re not really worried about it. We’re not your republican dads, man. Let’s take care of each other and remember that even if we get swindled from time to time, it will be worth it 10 times over.

You can find the details for our new program, and read about our other membership tiers, here: Give a Quercus, Be a Member

Thank you for being here, and for giving us a reason to care. You are the reason we have jobs, a bike shop, bike rides, classes and every other good thing that Scenic Routes creates. Let's keep moving forward and keep caring, even when the world feels a little bleak.

• Ayla

P. S. Nightmoves, Thursday the 13th. Bar Wrap Class, Thursday the 20th. Community Night, Thursday the 27th. Day Grooves, Sunday the 30th. See you there.

Bar Wrap Class *Visit our Site :) *

Scenic Routes Community Bicycle Center, 521 Balboa Street, San Francisco, United States

Powered by Squarespace

Unsubscribe