TIME: Almanac 1995

home *** CD-ROM | disk | FTP | other *** search

/ TIME: Almanac 1995 / TIME Almanac 1995.iso / time / 081991 / 0819200.000 < prev next >

Wrap

Text File | 1994-03-25 | 9.3 KB | 186 lines

<text id=91TT1835> <title> Aug. 19, 1991: Sporting Goods:Rock and Roll </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991 Aug. 19, 1991 Hostages:Why Now? Who's Next? </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> BUSINESS, Page 42 SPORTING GOODS Rock And Roll </hdr><body> Propelled by the mountain-bike craze and hassle-free models, cycling zips to new popularity By Janice Castro--With reporting by Kumiko Makihara/Tokyo and William McWhirter/Detroit Every industrial revolution starts with a great notion. In the Smithsonian Institution, resting only a short stroll away from Charles Lindbergh's Spirit of St. Louis, is a newer icon of American ingenuity: Stumpjumper, the first mountain bike. A crossbreed of rugged utility and European racing technology, the Stumpjumper scurried where 10-speeds would have crumpled: down mountain slopes, across fields and over city curbs. The chunky two-wheeler, manufactured by Californian Michael Sinyard in 1981, has helped transform the U.S. bicycle industry from a sleepy business to a $3.5 billion family-sport industry as millions of Americans mount up. Sinyard's goal: "Durability and comfort, a bike that is easy to ride." Idiot proof and practically maintenance free, the tough cycles are the transportation equivalent of the first oversize Prince tennis racquet introduced in the 1970s. Both represent high-tech sports magic in accessible form, an Everyman's ticket to an activity usually ruled by youth and muscle. Behind the growing bike boom in America are all those adventurous teenagers reawakening in millions of overtaxed grownups. Frustrated with sore knees, joggers are turning to biking. Desk jockeys once intimidated by drop-handle 10-speeds can now handle as many as 21 gears on a bike that looks more like something the paper boy would ride. And they can even take to the streets in outfits like those of three-time Tour de France winner Greg LeMond. Mountain bikes, also known as all-terrain bikes (ATBs), borrow sophisticated metal alloys, titanium lugs, carbon-fiber tubing and other materials from the aerospace industry for lightweight strength. Average weight: 28 lbs., vs. 20 lbs. for a far more fragile touring bike. Perhaps most important, ATBs feature flat handlebars for upright seating and thick tires that take to sand and gravel as easily as to pavement. While these features have practical appeal for rough-riding wilderness cyclists, the changes also take the hassle out of bike riding for ordinary pedal pushers who never stray more than a mile or two from the nearest McDonald's. More than 93 million Americans of all ages now ride bicycles (up from 72 million in 1983). Some 25 million ride at least once a week. Americans buy more bicycles (10.8 million in 1990) than cars (9.3 million), and ride them everywhere, from church to mall to office to beach. In spite of generally depressed U.S. consumer spending, bike dealers say sales this summer are running as much as 30% higher than last year. Ten years ago, the lean touring cycles popularly known as 10-speeds accounted for 80% of U.S. sales. But today mountain bikes make up more than half the total and are gaining ground. Cross-bikes, a fast-growing hybrid of ATB grit and sleeker 10-speed styling, account for an additional 10%. Sales of ATBs and cross-bikes more than doubled during the first three months of this year, compared with 1990. The easy handling of mountain bikes has vastly broadened biking's appeal. Says Net Payne, 21, a Cornell University senior: "Before, bicycling was only for kids and racers. Now it's a family sport. Anyone can do it." Another measure: more than 10% of Americans over 65 are cyclists, according to the National Sporting Goods Association. Since the Stumpjumper first appeared in shops, Sinyard's Specialized Bicycle Components, based in Morgan Hill, Calif., has grown into a $100 million enterprise and has helped spawn a frenzy of furiously inventive competitors. Trek, a struggling little 10-employee maker of bicycle frames back when the Stumpjumper appeared, is now a leading ATB manufacturer. Based in Waterloo, Wis., Trek expects to sell 500,000 cycles worth an estimated $200 million this year, 10 times its 1985 sales. After the entrepreneurs established the new market for ATBs, industry giants Schwinn and Huffy began mass-producing them. Chicago-based Schwinn, long better known for inexpensive children's cycles, now is making top-of-the-line Paramount mountain bikes priced as high as $3,000. Ed Schwinn Jr., who heads the firm co-founded by his family in 1895, concedes that the bicycle business is still fundamentally an industry built on the ideas of backyard inventors. Says he: "We look at what the tinkerers are trying to accomplish and adapt the best of that." The dramatic changes in styling and materials have powered American bicycle designers to the head of a global business long dominated by the Italian masters. Says Marco Rocca, owner of a bicycle-importing firm in Turin: "There is an invasion of imported mountain bikes!" French manufacturers sold more than 1 million velo tout terrain bikes last year, up from 1,000 in 1984. Such Japanese firms as Bridgestone and Fuji are ATB top sellers in the U.S. But back home, many Japanese consumers prefer American bikes from Diamond Back, Specialized, GT, Schwinn, Trek and Cannondale. They are also snapping up stylish U.S.-made cycling clothes from Nike, Hind and other firms. While the companies to beat are American, most of their cycles are made in Taiwan and other low-cost overseas manufacturing centers. Just last week Schwinn announced that it is closing its last major U.S. factory, in Greenville, Miss., and shifting production to China and Taiwan. One of the world's largest bicycle-manufacturing centers, Taiwan last year exported 6.4 million bikes worth $740 million. Giant Bicycles of Taiwan (employees: more than 1,000), a longtime Schwinn supplier, is marketing its own brands in the U.S. and Europe. Anyone who still remembers bike shops as dark, cluttered places smelling of oil and rubber would be startled to walk into a modern American bike outlet. Spotless and often carpeted, crawling with salespeople and outfitted with dressing rooms, specialty bike shops rely on high-margin clothing and cycling gizmos for up to 25% of their revenues. The glamour of biking now draws neophytes who browse through racks of hip-hugging shorts and brightly colored shirts even before they know the difference between a derailleur and a train accident. An average bike today costs $300 or more, but a superior mountain bike starts at $1,000. What's the difference between the two? "Ten minutes," says a store manager in Manhattan, explaining that it takes him 35 minutes instead of 45 to cover his 12-mile commute on his new high-priced cycle. Reason: lighter weight, superior components and a more rigid frame that absorbs less of the cyclist's energy. Most owners of the top models, however, are more concerned with quality and status than winning the racing edge. As doctors, lawyers and bureaucrats pull on the skintight colors (now available in extra-large sizes) and don crash helmets, they also deck out their cycles with an ever growing array of mileage computers, ergonomically correct seats, gel-filled grips, rearview mirrors and other color-coordinated gadgetry. One hot new gizmo is a cyclist's heart monitor that transmits a continuous pulse readout to a special wristwatch. Amid all this glittering change, some still yearn for grand old bikes with big fenders and coaster brakes. In Manhattan earlier this summer, an elegantly dressed woman strolled into a bike shop and bought a $1,500 replica of a green-and-white '50s-era Schwinn Columbia to hang over her living room couch as art. Some enthusiasts want a bike to suit every occasion. While one is fine for long solo rides, another might be more appropriate for family outings. Even Michael Sinyard, a regular racer in his spare time, often spends the afternoon on a Specialized Deja Two tandem with his seven-year-old daughter. Says he: "She loves it. She says, `Dad! This is a great bike! My legs never get tired!'" Other parents tow their youngsters in the $300 Cannondale Bugger, a polyethylene shell that allows the whimsical child to sit facing backward, watching the landscape spin away. The inventions and gizmos keep coming, and the competition is constantly taking notes. Some companies offer an automatic transmission, a motorcycle-style gearshift system built into the handgrips. Several firms are preparing variations on Cannondale's new suspension system. Borrowed from motorcycle design, the technology guarantees aging cyclists a smoother ride. Last year Specialized introduced Air Lock, a self-sealing tire that eliminates fear of flats. Still trying to grow fast enough to stay ahead of the big boys, pioneer Sinyard drives his troops with the company slogan "Innovate or Die!" That's a fitting sentiment in an industry whose forebears included Wilbur and Orville Wright. </body></article> </text>