Enter any bike shop in the country and you will most likely be helped by a male...

Enter any bike shop in any city in any country and odds are in favor of you being greeting by a male employee. Peek your head in to the service shop and chances are high that it is filled with guys in aprons, dirty hands engaged in the task of repairing bikes. As a bicycle courier back in the early 1990’s, my steel steed required regular maintenance. I can recall the unease that filled me every time I was forced to enter a downtown Chicago bike shop and request a repair. I felt intimidated by the staff, regardless of how they received me; the shop was a foreign world to me and I did not speak the language. Although I rode a bike for a living I did not know the first thing about how all the parts worked, let alone how to correct a mechanical problem. Even fixing a flat tire brought on a minor anxiety attack. So how does a young woman evolve from mechanically ignorant to senior instructor at the country’s most prestigious mechanical training facility? Good question!

In the early days, the fear of breaking down became so unbearable I forced myself to get a handle on some basic mechanical skills. Although it would take years to master the 90-second flat fix, I bought the necessary tools needed to change a flat with the intention of mastering that skill. I bought a chain breaker and a multi-tool as well. I received no training regarding how to properly use these tools; fortunately, I was in the company of men who exercised some skill with their tools and I watched intently whenever the opportunity presented itself. As I publicly made attempts to perform on the fly repairs, other couriers passing by frequently stopped to assist and instruction flowed freely from their lips. Eventually, I felt comfortable enough with tools that I decided to buy a frame and fork, order all the components and piece together a bicycle from the ground up. Suspended from ropes in my attic, the bicycle slowly took form. Using the instructions from each part box, I managed to install the bottom bracket, cranks, derailleurs, headset, and all the miscellaneous components to complete the bike. A co-worker volunteered to build my wheel set and taught me basic wheel truing techniques to boot. Once completed, I was afraid to ride the bike for fear I had missed something crucial and would crash because of the possible error! I rode it despite my trepidation, straight to a local shop to find a professional mechanic who would be willing to give it a once over. I felt the sort of pride a craftsman might experience using a chest of drawers built by his own hands. The experience was a pivotal moment, one that set the course for my future endeavors. Within the next year I quit my messenger job and began working full time in a bike shop as a mechanic.

The life of a bicycle mechanic is not glamorous. The pay is meager, at best; her hands sport dirty nails, small cuts filled with grease, and chapped skin from being washed frequently; six days a week, she stands on her feet, chipping away at a seemingly endless stack of repair tickets. Why did I do it? The sense of accomplishment that filled me as my skills improved was exactly the kind I experienced after I built my own bike. I felt empowered by expansive confidence, which kept me grounded in the shop environment. Plus, most shops are full of cycling enthusiasts; my mechanical talent grew by day and my potential as a rider flourished at a similar rate. I allowed myself to be fully embraced by the world of cycling. On many of the hardcore Saturday morning rides, I found myself one of a small handful of women racing to keep up with a large group of men. I got dropped on my first group road ride; the humility that plagued me for days after was replaced by the drive to dig deep and uncover my real athletic potential. Eventually, I could hang in the peloton and even take a short pull as part of a high-speed pace line. I came to see my lone female status not as an anomaly, but as the way my life was meant to be. The things in life that attracted me just happened to be more appealing to men than women. My personal growth did not benefit from regular “girl” worries: was I skinny or pretty, did I wear the right clothes or say cute things? As a young woman I focused energy on these superficial concerns with empty results. Playing bass guitar in a punk rock band enriched my live far more than a nice pair of shoes ever could.

After a few years working my hands to the bone for pennies in the various bike shops around the country, I took a break. Racing full time as an expert cradling dreams of attaining pro-status on the mountain bike circuit in Colorado, I took an easy job working as a clerk in a bookstore. Chronic lactic-acid build-up in the quads makes a standing job, such as wrenching or waiting tables undesirable. When word of an opening at the Barnett Bicycle Institute came my way I felt compelled to at least schedule an interview. I had attended classes there the year before, about the same time I trained as a race mechanic at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs, Colorado; I knew it would be foolish to let the opportunity pass even though my goal had shifted from wrenching to competitive riding. Fortunately, the position at the BBI was for an office manager, which meant a good deal of time sitting in a chair behind a desk. Had it been a foot-job, I might have declined when they made me an offer. As a result of various events unfolding at the BBI, I found myself in the classroom in less than three years training to become an instructor.

I manage to nourish a career in the male-dominated bicycling industry because my heart and head are linked to the world of bikes. Bicycling entered my life when I was ready for a change, hungry to taste the fruits of life and to expose myself to new experiences. Even now, I continue to commute by bike, ride for fun, tour, teach clinics, expose kids to cycling, study new technologies, and even travel to exotic locations for cycling trips. As a professional female mechanic the door to opportunity has opened many times over. The bicycle industry continues to expand its horizons to embrace the female cycling population, as well as reaches out to new cyclists. Fortunately for me, a woman with my field experience becomes a sought-after commodity. Every surmounted obstacle increases my drive to remain in the bicycle world. The wealth of experience I have achieved professionally has nothing to do with gender, but gender has played many times over in my favor. I can honestly say it pays to be female!


Cheers,
Jenny