The
journey started more than a year ago when I decided to buy a mountain
bike. Being a poor writer, I could only afford an entry level bike.
Being a spinning instructor I felt like a hypocrite as I had never
participated in a cycling race, but at least I had the shoes! My
cleats were the first investment in this vicious cycle. After months
of saving and accumulating hand-me-down helmets, gear and gloves from
my sponsored friends (who were generous in giving me their spare
parts and kit), I went to numerous cycling stores to get the final
thing needed for the sport – the bike. I decided this life-changing
decision needed expert advice and I took my professional friend with
me to make sure that I was not cheated or cleated incorrectly. The
condescending, arrogant cycle shop assistants (let's call them Cacs)
treated me like a child, while my male friend was respected. I was
clearly the person who needed the most help and I left the shop
feeling more hopeless and helpless than when I entered this
male-dominated workshop. In fairness, some Cacs were slightly
sympathetic towards my plight, but nobody went out of their way to
help me and they were speaking to me as if I were a stupid blonde
while the real male cyclists who entered the shop were greeted with
friendliness that was reserved for the “real cyclists”. This
helpfulness was not extended to me when I asked a few questions about
my new investment.
My
faith in men was renewed by the cyclists who invited me to group
rides and gave me excellent advice about cycling. After many friendly
invitations in the spinning class, I joined my first outdoor group
ride and the guys waited for me and bombarded me with advice, tips
and coffee invites. There is a relaxed atmosphere on a group ride
where cyclists are concerned for each other and tap their bums to
warn cyclists about glass and other obstacles in the road. This new
language was unfamiliar and I soon learned about changing punctures,
tyre pressure and cycling etiquette from my friend's husband who
seems to be the only gentleman in the cycling sales business. I just
wish that somebody would teach the Cacs some of these mannerisms
because each time I enter a cycle shop in Blouberg I get a chilly
reception. After completing the Argus Cycle Race, I went mountain
biking a few times and I joined a mountain biking course for women.
The ladies were friendly and everybody was smiling through the mud
and falling, but I am too much of a girl to enjoy being covered in
mud so I decided to stay on the flat. I had renewed my faith in the
sport – until my brake casing broke on the rear wheel and I had to
venture into a cycling shop with dread. Taking the advice of friends,
I went to another shop and handed in my bike... and waited two weeks.
After no phone calls to collect my bike, I went to the shop to
collect my bike that had been fixed the very next day, but the
telepathic message obviously did not reach me.
That
is when I made the decision to leave the repairs to the boys and I
will not set foot into a cycle shop again. My supportive friends can
buy whatever I will need and take my bike for repairs, but I will not
subject myself to this bad service again. It is such a pity that such
an enjoyable (although it is expensive) sport is tainted by bad
service and sexism.
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