Late last spring, Nic Morales embarked on a spontaneous tour of the Southeast, a detour that led him to an enlightening visit to Crust Bikes HQ in Richmond, Virginia. Originally intending to cover spring break in Nutmeg Country, weather uncertainties redirected his journey southward, a fortunate turn that brought him face-to-face with the passionate team at Crust Bikes. During his time with Garrett and Latané at their Bikes Shop, Nic delved into the heart of what it means to be a bike brand in today’s world, reflecting on his own connection with Crust and the broader cycling community.
Arriving at the Crust bikes shop, I was admittedly road-weary and thirsty. My morning had been consumed by an ambitious ride, fueled by the desire to explore the American South on this impromptu trip. I might have pushed myself a bit too hard on what I later discovered were some of the more challenging local trails. As I approached the unassuming, colorfully painted building that housed the bikes shop, a familiar face emerged from the doorway.
“Hey!” exclaimed a smiling Garrett, a face recognizable from countless handlebar setup videos and exhilarating single-track clips. His genuine and warm greeting instantly dissolved any lingering fatigue.
Garrett ushered me into the bikes shop. Stepping through the industrial doors, I found myself in a modest yet vibrant space. Latané, Garrett’s colleague, was stationed at a work stand, immersed in assembling components and brainstorming vibrant color schemes for a new Lightning Bolt complete bike, destined to be listed on their website. My gaze swept across the room, taking in the tangible embodiment of a brand I had only known online. This was it – the legendary Crust Bikes. Born from humble beginnings with an iPod Touch, now a globally recognized bike distributor with aspirations for world domination, or so it seemed from the outside.
“People imagine we’re much larger than we are. It’s really just the two of us, ” Garrett chuckled, “And many seem to think we’re based in Florida because of the palm tree imagery.” This down-to-earth reality was a refreshing contrast to the often-exaggerated perceptions of bike brands.
As I wandered through the bikes shop, careful not to disrupt Garrett and Latané’s workday, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own relationship with Crust. Beyond a few direct messages, a feature on Dropped Chain, and some Instagram interactions, my connection was largely digital. Yet, for me, Crust had evolved into something more profound than just a bike brand. Introduced to me by a friend with a background in skate culture who had transitioned to bikes, I had pieced together the story of Matt, Cheech, and their diverse crew. Driven by a desire to fill a void in a market seemingly dominated by a homogenous demographic, Crust envisioned something different, something authentic. This authenticity was powerfully conveyed in a candid interview with Russ of Path Less Pedaled, where Matt openly considered closing shop, overwhelmed by the mundane tasks of logistics, a sentiment far removed from the idealized image of a thriving bikes shop. This raw honesty resonated deeply and was further reinforced by my visit.
“There really isn’t much to see here,” Garrett gestured around the compact bikes shop, “but please, look around.”
As Garrett thoughtfully guided me through the efficiently organized space of the bikes shop, our conversation unfolded organically. We touched upon the business side of Crust – the Bombora as their bestseller, the slower movement of Lightning Bolts, and exciting developments on the horizon. These insights offered a glimpse into the practical realities of running a bikes shop and managing a bike brand.
However, our discussion extended beyond mere business metrics, delving into industry dynamics, public perceptions of the company, and Garrett’s personal perspectives on various topics, notably his passion for 26” wheels. Garrett openly shared the complexities of operating a bike brand – the lengthy production timelines, the anxious anticipation for shipments, and the demanding physical labor involved in delivering products that bring joy to cycling enthusiasts. He painted a realistic picture of the dedication and effort that fuels Crust Bikes, a stark contrast to the often-glamorized portrayal of the cycling industry.
“I mean, Cheech, Matt, and myself – we’ve all been brought to tears right here in this bikes shop,” Garrett admitted, highlighting the emotional investment and personal sacrifices inherent in their endeavor.
Amidst the flow of information, I interjected with questions about the various artifacts adorning the bikes shop. A Lightning Bolt prototype, having journeyed across continents only to meet an unfortunate end, hung above Garrett’s workstation. Scattered throughout were remnants of projects past – half-formed concepts, forgotten prototypes, and bestsellers relegated to history: Ronnie’s original Romanceur, a Wombat prototype, and others. This small facility was a treasure trove of memories, collaborations, and tangible manifestations of the dreams that had propelled Crust into a cultural phenomenon. It was a living archive of the brand’s evolution, all contained within their humble bikes shop.
“I can’t even get my hands on a Romanceur myself anymore,” Garrett confessed, “I eventually settled on building up this Nor’Easter.” This personal anecdote underscored the brand’s unique position – even those at the heart of Crust sometimes face the same challenges as their customers.
As Garrett detailed the Nor’Easter build with evident pride, it struck me as the perfect embodiment of my visit. Garrett, the person directly responsible for countless Crust bike owners receiving their dream machines, was himself unable to acquire the Crust model he desired. This irony highlighted a key aspect of the brand’s identity.
There was a poignant humor in this situation. Over the preceding hours, Garrett had shared the frustrations of being a brand onto which people projected their own ideals and expectations. This took a toll on the individuals behind Crust, a brand built on personality and inclusivity, intentionally contrasting the facelessness of much of the industry. This wasn’t to suggest any regret or negativity towards their position; Crust is, after all, a dream realized. However, it underscored the human element often overlooked in the transactional nature of a bikes shop and brand relationship.
An emblem deeply associated with Crust is Matt’s iconic “Living the Fucking Dream” patch. From what I understand, it originated from Matt’s global travels on a less-than-ideal Surly, predating the genesis of Crust. Its patched-together essence encapsulates the spirit of someone truly living the dream – exploring the world by bike, unburdened by societal expectations.
But what happens when the dream materializes into a tangible business, a bikes shop, a brand?
Crust’s success lies in capturing their passion and unconventional spirit. Yet, as I’ve consistently found with any deeply loved practice, the true essence of the dream resides in the act itself – the ride, the journey, the tour. It holds no greater promise of fulfillment beyond the immediate experience. It is inherently complete in its ephemeral beauty.
Seeking external validation or outcomes beyond this intrinsic joy risks opening a Pandora’s Box of unforeseen consequences. Undeniably, the cycling world is enriched by the contributions of Matt, Cheech, Garrett, and Latané. However, the essential message about Crust, and perhaps any independent bikes shop or brand, is that it’s driven by a small group of individuals striving to empower others to live their own dreams – often at their own personal expense.
To put it plainly, Crust operates without the vast resources of a corporate entity. They conceive, test, and refine their products in-house. Their innovations have influenced the trajectory of the cycling industry. They have learned, and continue to learn, valuable lessons through this demanding process. Expectations should be tempered by this understanding. Not because their products are lacking – they produce some of the most exceptional and unique cycling components available – but because they are, fundamentally, people.
People who have invested more of themselves than initially anticipated and continue to do so, even with the full awareness of the personal cost. While these concepts may seem detached from bicycles themselves, they are inseparable from the individuals who create them. The next time you order a set of Nullabars or your first Bombora from their bikes shop, remember the people who made it possible to reach your doorstep.
And remember the cost of that fuckin’ dream.
Explore more at Crust Bikes.
