Wheels
I’m having a new set of bicycle wheels built. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. My current wheels have enough miles on them to warrant replacing, so a new set of wheels will be my budgeted “bicycle investment†at the end of this riding season.
This decision to buy new wheels is something that I’ve thought about for a while. One possibility for replacing the wheels would be to go online, read reviews of commercially available and mass-produced wheels, and purchase whichever wheels appear to meet my needs and seem like a “good deal”. This is the buying process that I’ve become familiar and comfortable with in my life – collect the alternatives, analyze the options, and make the best choice. But another possibility rattled around in my brain – a different way to approach the process. Two big factors drove me to explore this other possibility, and to eventually decide to follow this path:
- I knew enough about how wheels are designed and built to know that there is a good deal of both science and art involved – a combination that calls into question the effectiveness of the commodity-based, mass production model that drives the majority of our buying decisions.
- In my life, I continue to look for more ways to support individuals who are in business for themselves – local merchants in a manner of speaking – over the big bureaucracies that control more and more of the economy.
Passion
Guided by these underlying factors, I did a little research, and decided to contract with a wheel maker in Portland, OR. The gal who runs the company (Jude) seems quite passionate about wheel-building, and I figured if I’m gonna spend the money for new wheels anyway, I’d really like to do business with someone who’s building them because they’re passionate about the craft – not to mention that I’m supporting another small businessperson.
And in this respect, I already feel good about the process – even before I have the wheels. The currency being exchanged feels better than a purely dollar-based exchange. Sure I’m handing money to Jude, and Jude is handing me back a set of wheels, but there’s a whole lot more that’s being exchanged here. I’m also giving Jude an opportunity to express and pursue her passion, and she’s also giving me a product that’s wrapped and blessed with her true care and concern for a good product. Even now – in the early stages of the transaction – this exchange of currency is happening as we email back and forth about the kind of riding that I do, and what sorts of options we might want to design into the wheels. Before the first wheel component is touched by her hand, I feel good about the transaction.
Vision
In one email, Jude was talking to me about the color of the hub. If you know me, you know that I’m a color idiot – I just have no ability to visualize colors well, and understand what goes together and what doesn’t go together. I explained this to Jude, but could still sense from her that she needed me to be telling her what I wanted in hub colors. She explained that she wanted me to love the wheels, not be talked into loving them. I explained to her that Jesse and I have the same issue when it comes to garden design and implementation – we can visualize the gardens and the plants much better than the customer in most cases, and that our customers depended on us to design things that are “most right”, rather than depending on them to tell us. I explained to her that I needed to trust her to make better design decisions than I could make.
At the end of the day, isn’t this exactly what that wonderful sweet spot tastes like – that one that lies right in that bright space between art and science? Sure there’s the pure analytical science of a thing like designing a wheel or a garden, but transforming the wheel or the garden into something truly special – into something we might call “art” – that requires a special eye, and a special vision. That important step that so many of us need to take – stepping up to the plate to claim that special vision that we each have in our own unique niche – that’s the step that’s so often hardest to make.
How’s that Beatles song go? …And don’t you know that it’s just you? Hey Jude, you’ll do
The movement that you need is on your shoulder
…
Or something like that. Step on out and claim the vision you’ve been designed to give to the world. Help all the poor slobs like me out there who need your vision!
