The cycling sub-culture offers an interesting environment for observing the power of branding in action. Over the years I’ve learned that the “boys who bike” are very status conscious, and proudly display team affiliations and other brand badges all over their bodies, their bikes and their gear. I’ve also learned that if you ride the “wrong” bike, you’re invisible to your fellow cyclists.
Here in the Pacific Northwest biking is a year-round phenomenon. People are passionate about it. Everyday you see folks commuting to work by bike, rain or shine. There are numerous active cycling clubs for racers, cruisers, seniors, tandem bike riders, and so on. Municipalities invest in bike lanes and the county in bike trails.
Mercer Island, a couple of miles across Lake Washington from Seattle, is a favorite place for bikers to work out or socialize while enjoying lake and mountain views. The loop around the island is just over 14 miles and features several heart-pounding hill climbs. You can get quite a workout with one or two loops around the island. Therefore it’s loaded with bikers year round, whenever conditions permit cycling. As a Mercer Island resident and sporadic cyclist, I’ve had lots of opportunities for brand spotting and observing the behaviors of the biking tribes.
During the warmer seasons you see gaggles of guys on bikes training for upcoming races, like the annual biking ritual, the STP (Seattle to Portland) race. This reaches a frenzy before and during the Tour de France race. These cyclists all sport club uniforms or the branded apparel of the pro teams that compete in the Tour de France and other famous international races. I find it humorous to see weekend road warriors sporting the uniforms of pro riders. Who do they think they’re kidding?
About that Branding…
Over the years I’ve biked on Mercer Island, I’ve learned that a bike’s brand status is more important than the effort you invest when it comes to your “visibility” among the biking crowd. It’s a curious thing.
Co-motion
When my husband and I cruise around the island on our “Mango Tango,” a yellow-orange Co-motion tandem bike with nice components, we get lots of head bobs and greetings from fellow bikers. Co-motion is a niche brand, a maker of semi-custom and custom bikes in Eugene, Oregon, recognized and respected among Northwest bikers, even if not a mass-market brand. So when we ride our Co-motion tandem, we get noticed and acknowledged as members of the biking tribe.
Here’s our Co-motion “Mango Tango,” with Mercer Island off in the background. Note the relative lack of branding on my husband’s biking gear – a sign that we’re definitely outliers when it comes to biking and branding…
Hybrids – No Glamour, No Respect
For the past 10 years, when not on the tandem, I’ve ridden a Canondale hybrid bike, one designed to cruise comfortably on off-road trails and paved streets alike. Compared to performance road bikes, it offers no mechanical advantage (although lots of shock absorption.) The tires are relatively thick, they only inflate to 80 psi, and the bike is heavy. Consequently I expend twice as much energy to circumnavigate Mercer Island on the hybrid as I do when riding the tandem or my new Roubaix road bike.
But for serious cyclists there’s no sex appeal to a hybrid – it has no brand status among the biker boys. As a result when I ride that bike, I’m invisible to other bikers. No head bobs, no greetings, no acknowledgements – even when riding in non-fair-weather conditions, when only the truly passionate (or desperate) cyclists are out there pedaling away and racking up miles.
Roubaix
Now that I’ve switched to a current generation road bike, Specialized’s Roubaix Elite Comp, I’m visible again. When I encounter other bikers heading toward me, they nod their heads (with a quick glance at the bike and its components) and some may actually grunt a hello. I smile to myself and think, if I were riding the 10-year-old hybrid today, you wouldn’t even notice me – and I’d be working twice as hard…
Because of its performance characteristics (and relative shock dampening), I love my Roubaix.
But color matters to the brand status crowd…
It’s a funny thing. The first Roubaix I bought featured a compact gear set; however, its color was white, which is apparently considered dorky among the biking community. So when I rode my white Roubaix, I was usually invisible, brand-wise.
When I exchanged my Roubaix for one that came with the triple gear set (I had missed the “granny gear” on those Mercer Island hills), the new one came in carbon color – much more pleasing to other bikers. Yes, the carbon colored, Roubaix-branded road bike merits head bobs and greetings. The very same bike in white does not… Among self-styled “gear heads,” I believe the compact double gear set is sexier than the triple, but clearly color trumps double versus triple…
Gear
Unlike most of bikers my husband and I do not indulge ourselves with club uniforms or highly branded team apparel. We’re outliers in that regard. We wear practical clothes suitable to the weather and the mileage we intend – often things that do double duty for hiking, kayaking or other sports. (I’ve even worn yoga gear from time to time.)
But, oh yes, we love those Pearl Izumi padded shorts or cropped tights, just like the other bikers…
It’s amazing, the power of branding on the mind-set of the biking tribe…
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