Dive into the world of Rivendell Bicycle Works with this exclusive interview with the visionary behind it all, Grant Petersen. A true legend in bicycle design, Petersen’s influence on the cycling world is undeniable. From his groundbreaking work at Bridgestone USA in the 80s and early 90s to establishing Rivendell Bikes in 1994, he has consistently championed a refreshing perspective on bicycles. Rivendell bikes stand for enjoyment, practicality, and durability, a stark contrast to the industry’s relentless pursuit of trends and technological novelties.
In an era where mainstream bicycles often prioritize complexity over user-friendliness and repairability, Rivendell Bikes offer a compelling alternative. Petersen’s philosophy, detailed in his influential 2012 book Just Ride, advocates for robust steel frames, straightforward mechanics, and a return to cycling’s fundamental pleasures. This approach, emphasizing simplicity and timeless design, has resonated deeply with cyclists seeking a more authentic and sustainable riding experience.
Beyond his influential “velosophy,” Petersen’s operational model for Rivendell Bikes is equally pioneering. Long before direct-to-consumer became a buzzword, Rivendell embraced this approach in the mid-90s. They also pioneered content marketing with their zine, the Rivendell Reader, fostering a direct dialogue with their community decades before it became a mainstream marketing strategy. Adding to his multifaceted persona, Petersen is also known to be a devoted Bob Dylan enthusiast.
In this insightful interview, we caught up with Grant Petersen to explore the journey of Rivendell Bikes, from its inception to its enduring impact on the cycling world. Whether you’re a seasoned cyclist or simply curious about a different approach to riding, Petersen’s wisdom offers valuable perspectives that extend far beyond the realm of bicycles.
The Enduring Relevance of Just Ride
Your book, Just Ride, published in 2012, seems to have truly captured the zeitgeist. There’s a palpable increase in cyclists embracing the principles you outlined – from choosing practical bikes to bike camping and simply riding in everyday clothing. Having advocated for these ideas since the late 80s, do you see this as a form of validation for your vision of cycling?
“Validation is a kind compliment,” Petersen begins, “but truthfully, the ideas in Just Ride weren’t groundbreaking. What I advocate for is, in many ways, the historically natural way to ride a bicycle.” He explains that the book emerged at a time when racing culture was overwhelmingly dominant, a trend that continues to heavily influence the cycling world. “My intention isn’t to dictate how anyone should ride,” he clarifies, “but Just Ride aimed to present an alternative to the pervasive obsession with personal bests, competitive social rides, and the unnecessary pursuit of aerodynamic advantages in recreational cycling.”
Petersen emphasizes the core message of his book: “It’s about ‘just riding’ free from the pressures of racing culture, which often distorts everything from rider attitudes to gear choices.” He points out that “most people globally simply ‘just ride’ their bikes for transportation and leisure.” However, he acknowledges and appreciates the book’s impact, stating, “I am aware of, and indeed proud of, the influence Just Ride has had. The kind feedback I’ve received has been very rewarding.”
Who Found Resonance in Just Ride?
Delving deeper into the book’s reception, we asked Petersen about the readership of Just Ride. “I doubt many of my industry peers picked it up,” he muses, suggesting that perhaps its message might have been beneficial to them. “I believe the primary audience was newer cyclists, or those who were weary of the spandex, drop bars, and specialized footwear that had become synonymous with modern cycling.” He elaborates that these readers likely appreciated “someone with experience validating the idea of comfortable riding, casual attire, and rides that weren’t solely focused on intense workouts.”
He humorously acknowledges that for cyclists who had already embraced this relaxed approach for years, “a stranger suddenly proclaiming it’s okay to be comfortable might have even been slightly offensive.” Petersen himself admits, “I rode that way for 25 years prior to writing the book.”
Interestingly, Just Ride didn’t find much traction in traditional bike shops. Petersen explains, “Most bike shops primarily stock repair manuals, perhaps a tell-all scandal book, and are unlikely to promote a book that questions prevailing trends and racing dogma.” He highlights a surprising success story: “A home furnishings store carried Just Ride among a select collection of titles for over a decade, which was incredibly gratifying.” Rivendell Bikes itself became a significant retailer of the book, selling “around two hundred copies annually.” Petersen believes the book is nearing the end of its print run, expressing a desire to update it, though its feasibility remains uncertain.
Rekindling the Passion for Bikes
The Spark of Cycling Enthusiasm
Curious about the origins of Petersen’s lifelong passion for bicycles, we inquired about his initial “hook” into cycling. He recounts a childhood where cars weren’t central. “My dad owned a car, but wasn’t a ‘car-nut’, so I wasn’t raised with car obsession. I needed a way to get around, so I naturally rode my bike.” However, from ages 12 to 14, his interest waned. The catalyst for its resurgence came with the first Earth Day in 1970. “On April 22nd, 1970, we high school students were encouraged to choose transportation methods that didn’t rely on fossil fuels. My dad asked, ‘Want a bike?’ and I said sure, so he bought me one.”
This simple question set the course for Petersen’s transportation choices for life. “I’ve never desired car ownership and have never made a car payment.” His household possesses a 2003 Prius, inherited and practical, “but I’ve driven it for less than an hour total in the past three and a half years.” While he accepts car rides when necessary, he affirms, “Riding a bicycle is easier and more natural for me.” Cycling is integrated into his daily life: “I ride for fun, commuting, errands, even to the dentist.” His enthusiasm remains undiminished: “I’ve never enjoyed riding as much as I do now. I’ll never tire of it.” Initially, bikes were a practical solution, “because they meant I didn’t have to hitchhike or walk,” but now, “I ride for pure enjoyment all the time, too.”
Grant Petersen with a bicycle wheel
The Genesis of Rivendell Bicycle Works
Rivendell Bicycle Works was founded in 1994. We asked Petersen about the specific vision that drove its creation. “My primary goal was to preserve and promote certain types of bicycles and bicycle components that were becoming marginalized,” he explains. This included “steel frames, particularly lugged steel frames, threaded headsets, quill stems, saddlebags, friction shifting, and similar components.” These were elements “that would function just as effectively in the present and future as they had in the past,” yet were being phased out by the mainstream industry as “obsolete, old technology.”
“That was our mission then, and it remains so today,” Petersen states, “and we’ve had moderate success in achieving it. Looking back, it’s almost surprising we’ve lasted this long.”
Pioneering Direct-to-Consumer and Content Marketing
Rivendell Bikes adopted a direct-to-customer sales model in the mid-90s and launched their own magazine well before “branded content” became marketing jargon. Was this innovative approach a deliberate strategy or simply common sense?
Petersen’s answer is rooted in his experience at Bridgestone. “During my time in Bridgestone’s bicycle division in the U.S. from 1984 to 1994, our largest department was Accounts Receivable,” he recalls. The traditional dealer model presented challenges: “You ship bikes to dealers, grant them payment terms of 30 or 60 days, and then they often delay payment. They’d order more bikes while still owing for previous shipments. The ‘best’ customers were often those with the largest outstanding balances.” He wanted to avoid this precarious financial situation. “I knew Rivendell would never be a dealer’s primary bike brand, so we’d likely be last in line for payments.”
“I set out to keep certain kinds of bikes and bike parts alive and relevant—things that will work as well in a century as they did then and do now.”
This led to the direct-to-consumer model. “When I launched Rivendell in late 1994, I wanted to sell directly to cyclists, who are accustomed to paying upfront.” This model also offered a crucial advantage: “direct, unfiltered communication.” Rivendell could communicate their brand values and product details directly to customers, “without dealer interpretation or dilution.” Petersen elaborates, “Dealers might simplify or omit details they deem unimportant to customers, or misunderstand themselves, or that might compete with their mainstream bike offerings.”
He uses steel frames as an example. “Our bikes are all steel. A dealer primarily selling carbon and aluminum bikes might dismiss ours as ‘retro,’ which undervalues their design and quality. They are contemporary, even futuristic in their own way, and we can convey that directly without compromising sales of their Trek or other mainstream brands.”
The Rivendell Name: Homage and Inspiration
The name “Rivendell” evokes a sense of heritage. We inquired about its origins. “Yes, it’s a combination of influences,” Petersen explains. While acknowledging the Tolkien reference – “I’ve read and loved Tolkien, and my wife has read The Lord of the Rings trilogy thirteen times” – the more direct inspiration came from Rivendell Mountain Works. “In the early 1970s, Larry Horton founded RMW, creating exceptionally well-designed, non-trendy, innovative packs, clothing, and tents for climbing and mountaineering.”
Petersen’s personal experience with Rivendell Mountain Works was transformative. “After using standard gear from brands like The North Face, I discovered RMW through their catalog, ordered some items, and it was a game-changer.” He was particularly impressed by their catalog. “The catalog was exceptionally well-written, and I’ve consciously tried to emulate that style at Rivendell.”
Catalogs as Inspiration: Chouinard and Beyond
We noted the influence of vintage Chouinard Equipment catalogs on Rivendell’s style and tone, and Petersen’s writing at Bridgestone. What made these catalogs so distinctive?
“I gradually took over Bridgestone’s catalogs,” Petersen recounts. “Around 1989, Tom Franges, a friend and industry veteran, sent me an 1890 Eagle Bicycle Company catalog with a note: ‘Now THIS is a catalog.'” He describes it as “jam-packed with information, even technical details, assuming the reader’s intelligence and interest in design and engineering minutiae – in 1890!” This sparked his interest in historical catalogs. “Since then, I’ve read dozens of bicycle catalogs from the late 1870s onward. Catalogs were generally superior back then – in content, presentation, fonts, layouts, everything.” He also drew inspiration from outdoor catalogs of his youth. “Outdoor catalogs were decent in the late ’60s, good through the mid-’70s, but have largely declined in quality since.”
The Chouinard catalogs from 1972/73 were particularly influential. “They heavily influenced the Bridgestone catalogs from 1992-1994, which I’m proud of. But compared to Chouinard’s, they were still not quite as impactful.” He describes Chouinard as “a climber-blacksmith who boldly challenged destructive climbing tools and techniques, even while manufacturing and selling some of them – like hammers and pitons.” Petersen emphasizes Chouinard’s courage: “He dared to critique himself and his own climbing community.” The writing, largely by Tom Frost and Doug Robinson, was “powerful and persuasive.” For Petersen, “Holding that Chouinard catalog felt like holding something magical, precious, and unbelievable.”
He reflects on Chouinard’s broader impact. “Look at what it led to: Yvon Chouinard demonstrating how to build a business that minimizes environmental harm and prioritizes earth care.” While humbly stating, “I can’t claim Rivendell has reached his standards, or even come close,” he acknowledges the Chouinard influence on Rivendell’s communication. “Our online and print content is only as good as it is because of the Chouinard influence.” Drawing a parallel to his musical hero, Petersen concludes, “If Bob Dylan is the benchmark for songwriting, Yvon Chouinard is for business. And given my deep admiration for Bob Dylan, that explains my profound respect for Yvon Chouinard and Patagonia.”
A Focused Vision: Not Everything to Everyone
Rivendell Bikes has always maintained a distinct identity, resisting the urge to appeal to every cyclist. Is this deliberate focus a key to their success and influence?
“On the surface, it might seem that way,” Petersen acknowledges, “and I may have even said it myself. But it applies to any brand, bike company, or clothing line.” He clarifies the nuance: “What you likely mean is that we pursue ‘unpopular’ approaches, recognizing this and not being particularly concerned about it.” While true, he offers a deeper perspective. “Even though we’re considered ‘niche’ or however people categorize us, everyone at Rivendell believes that the mainstream bikes are actually the ‘weird’ ones.”
“We aren’t for everyone in the sense that not everyone appreciates our aesthetic,” he concedes. “But functionally, our bikes are suitable for almost everyone, almost all the time. In that sense, we are ‘The People’s Bikes’. The exception is price, which is unavoidable.” He acknowledges the existence of “perfectly good bikes for under $1,000,” while also noting “some bizarre bikes priced over $6,000.”
Close-up of hands applying cork tape to handlebars
Pride in People and Principles
What aspect of Rivendell Bicycle Works makes Petersen most proud? Reflecting on the journey, is there a specific frame, detail, or idea he’s particularly pleased to have contributed to cycling?
“Personally,” Petersen states, “I’m most proud of our team, the culture we’ve fostered, and our ability to retain people for so long.” He highlights the long tenures of his staff: “Several have been with us over 20 years, others over ten, and even newer team members – four to five years – seem committed for the long haul.” He emphasizes the positive work environment. “There’s no backstabbing, competition, or resentment. Everyone works diligently because they see everyone else working hard.”
He also expresses pride in Rivendell’s role in preserving cycling traditions. “We are all glad to have helped keep alive elements that the mainstream industry tried to eliminate and still largely ignores.” This includes “lugged steel frames, threaded headsets, friction shifting, leather saddles.” Rivendell, he believes, has “helped legitimize comfortable, high-quality bikes, wider tires, saddlebags, baskets, higher handlebars, platform pedals on performance bikes, casual cycling attire, and a functional, enjoyable, non-competitive approach to cycling.” He summarizes their broader impact: “In general, we’ve elevated the status of cycling styles once considered only for beginners or the less athletic.”
Petersen hopes Rivendell has contributed to “normalizing bicycle riding and de-emphasizing racing.” He emphasizes their commitment to “selling excellent equipment for everyday use.” Beyond commerce, Rivendell is also philanthropic. “We donate over $50,000 annually to individuals and charities in need.” He shares a specific example: “We donated $1,000 to Vincent Snowball, an upholsterer in your country, who was struggling to pay his electricity bill and was cold. I read about him in the New York Times.”
Beyond “Retrogrouch”: Progress in a Different Direction
Labels like “retrogrouch” or “luddite” are often used to dismiss those who resist new trends. Instead of being backward-looking, is this resistance a form of progress in a different direction?
“Whether Ned Ludd was a real person or a composite figure is debated by historians,” Petersen notes, drawing a parallel to the historicity of Jesus Christ. “But what is clear is that the real or fictional Ned Ludd championed worker rights, jobs, and safety during the brutal industrialization era, which was exploiting children, damaging the environment, and abusing workers.” He laments the modern distortion of the term. “Now, ‘Luddite’ is a pejorative, hurled at anyone questioning ‘progress’ or technology!”
“In today’s context, Ned Ludd would be a human rights advocate,” Petersen asserts. “But the negative connotation of ‘luddite’ is too deeply ingrained.” He sees it as “a cheap shot, a dismissive label applied to anyone who questions technocracy, who doesn’t blindly embrace the easiest, most technologically advanced solution for even simple tasks.”
“It’s fun to stumble until you have enough skill to stumble less—my version of bicycle-riding hell would be riding an autopilot bike that always worked mind-numbingly perfectly.”
Focusing on bicycles, but extending the principle broadly, Petersen observes, “Many people, perhaps most, find more satisfaction in manipulating simple tools than in simply pressing buttons that automate everything. Automation removes you from the process.” He emphasizes context. “Of course, in critical situations, like medical procedures, I’d trust advanced technology. But for something like a bicycle ride – and there are many other examples – there’s joy in achieving results through skill and effort, where success isn’t guaranteed.” He concludes, “It’s fun to stumble and learn until you develop the skill to stumble less. My personal cycling hell would be riding a self-driving, perfectly functioning bike.”
The Allure of Effort: The Betty Crocker Effect
Petersen references the story of a 1950s baking kit that failed because it made baking too effortless. Consumers preferred a greater sense of accomplishment. Is society reaching a similar point, with a growing desire for hands-on experiences and challenges?
“Market trends often move in opposing directions simultaneously,” Petersen explains. “The cutting-edge, technology-driven end initially gains traction due to its novelty and marketability. Then, a counter-movement emerges – people who see through the hype or simply aren’t drawn to it, pushing back in the opposite direction.” He cites the late 90s surge in single-speed bikes as 9-speed cassettes became new. “Perhaps single-speed riders lacked the funds for new 9-speed bikes, or maybe they were making a statement against the complexity, but single-speeds exploded.” Mainstream brands eventually capitalized on this trend, offering upscale single-speed models.
He draws an analogy to fashion. “Runway fashion often features extravagant, impractical clothing, not intended for mass consumption, but designed to influence broader fashion trends.” Conversely, “working-class and rebellious groups adopted ripped denim, and when that became a movement, it appeared on runways, eventually influencing high fashion.” Rivendell, he acknowledges, isn’t immune to these cycles. “As bikes become more like cars and computers, it reinforces my commitment to simpler designs. If a bike component reflects this car/computer trend, I tend to reject it – suspension, hydraulics, disc brakes, electronics, tubeless tires. They all function, have their uses, and users aren’t foolish for choosing them, but I don’t believe they inherently improve the cycling experience, and you won’t find car or computer components on our bikes. This approach might limit our market size.”
Petersen distinguishes between different types of “struggle.” “Some seek to acquire the most advanced item to eliminate struggle, viewing shopping itself as the primary task – pursuing the latest gadget, whether a 13-speed cassette or a self-driving car, or a bike designed to minimize physical exertion.” Conversely, “others appreciate the initial learning curve and the physical effort involved – a smaller group with potentially limited market growth, as skilled users who value the process aren’t necessarily seeking high-tech solutions for the ‘problems’ encountered on recreational rides.”
The Sweet Spot of Struggle and Fulfillment
Is life, enjoyment, and fulfillment ultimately about finding the right level of challenge?
“I’ve never considered it in those terms,” Petersen admits, “but now that you mention it, yes, I agree.” He elaborates, “The progression from difficulty to ease is intrinsically satisfying, it feels human, normal.” He uses the analogy of a newborn learning to nurse, “struggling to find the nipple, preparing them for a lifetime of challenges and successes.” However, he also acknowledges the economic realities. “It’s more profitable to sell an automatic knife sharpener than a whetstone. In cycling, the trend is always towards more and easier. Making each new version easier to use drives consumers to replace functional equipment prematurely.”
Defining a “Good Ride”: Beyond Metrics
How does Petersen define a “good bike ride”? While cycling is often measured by time and distance, what are his personal criteria for a fulfilling ride?
“For me, at this stage of life, a perfect ride is car-free,” he begins. The ideal route includes “hills that require effort, rolling flats with refreshing breezes and scenic views, and descents that demand focus but are generally rideable. It also includes sections that are challenging enough to require walking.” Companionship enhances the experience: “Riding with one or two compatible friends who appreciate nature breaks is ideal.”
Duration and sustenance play a role. “If it’s a ride over four hours, it should include enjoyable food stops.” Photography is essential. “It absolutely must offer photo opportunities, and I’ll bring my OM-1 or Hasselblad loaded with HP-5 film. My riding companions must be patient while I set up shots.” Weather conditions matter: “It shouldn’t be muddy.” The terrain preference is clear: “Much of it should be on narrow, forested trails, at a pace of six to ten mph.” This “perfect ride,” he reveals, “I experience about 80 times a year. It’s easy for me to love cycling.”
Grant Petersen photographing scenery during a bike ride
Breaking Free from Numerical Obsession
How does one escape the tendency to measure success by numbers – ride times, social media views, daily earnings?
“You need unwavering anchors, something to hold onto,” Petersen suggests, “a role model, a meaningful lyric, something to resist the forces pushing you towards those metrics.” Applying this to cycling, he explains, “On a bike ride, it helps – certainly for me – to remember: ‘This is voluntary. Nothing is at stake. Regardless of the duration or whether I conquer this steep, rocky climb without dismounting, my wife will still love me, my home will remain, I will eat and have friends.’ It’s about perspective.” This perspective, he concludes, “is how I approach it.”
Inviolable Beacons: Dylan and Chouinard
Are figures like Bob Dylan and Yvon Chouinard examples of these “inviolable beacons”?
“While ‘love’ might be too strong a word,” Petersen concedes, “I deeply admire them both.” The “beacon” analogy resonates. However, he traces this principle back to childhood. “Before I knew of Dylan or Chouinard, around age five to ten, most of my friends received Wham-O slingshots – chunky, jigsaw-cut from thick wood blocks. I wanted one, but my dad refused – not slingshots in general, but Wham-O slingshots.” His father explained the inferior design: “See how thick it is? The wood grain doesn’t follow the contours. They’d break if they weren’t so bulky.” He then showed Petersen his own slingshot, “made from a tree fork, stronger and slimmer because the grain follows the fork’s shape.” This childhood lesson in “nature’s structural engineering” made a lasting impression. “I felt sorry for kids with their fat Wham-O slingshots, because my dad showed me the elegance of a real fork.”
Later, around age ten, when Petersen began hunting and fishing, his father again steered him away from the mainstream. “My friends used pumps and automatics for hunting and spinning gear for fishing – common for kids then – but my dad said, ‘We use double-barrel shotguns and fly-fish.'” Though unfamiliar with these methods, “I admired my dad, so that’s the path I took.” Fly casting, he admits, “wasn’t easy for a ten-year-old, but I eventually learned.”
He contrasts the mechanics. “With a double-barrel shotgun, you break it open, and there are your shells, loaded and unloaded by hand. Automatic and pump shotguns involve hidden mechanisms I still don’t understand. I dislike hidden mechanisms in bicycle components too – hidden headsets, chainring bolts, cables. I prefer visible, accessible mechanics.” He connects these early influences to his cycling preferences. “Though I haven’t hunted in decades, the slingshot, double-barrel shotgun, and fly rod principles are evident in my bike preferences.” He concludes, “I’ve made about fifty slingshots and still fly-fish.”
The Bob Dylan “obsession,” as he terms it, began in 1969 at age fifteen. “Dylan was never conventional for his time, yet his poetry was extraordinary.” He contrasts Dylan with popular music. “I enjoyed some Neil Diamond, but preferred Tap Root Manuscript, his African-inspired folk songs, over ‘Cherry, Cherry’.” Dylan’s impact was profound. “Once you delve into Bob Dylan, you categorize all other music as either Bob Dylan or Not Bob Dylan.”
Yvon Chouinard similarly stands apart. “Yvon Chouinard is also in a category of his own.” Petersen clarifies his admiration isn’t self-aggrandizing. “Admiring these figures isn’t me claiming to be like them or even close. Bob Dylan is unique, Yvon Chouinard is unique, and they excel in their fields far beyond my achievements.”
Being a Role Model: An Unexpected Perspective
How does it feel to be seen as a role model, even a hero, by many?
“That’s an unexpected question,” Petersen responds. “People who know me personally – from working together, friendships – know the real me, and I think they like me, but they don’t idolize me.” He acknowledges his contributions but emphasizes collaboration. “I recognize my contributions, but I don’t exaggerate them. I’ve always had significant help, and I believe I’m often overestimated, especially by those who don’t know me personally.”
He describes himself as having “average intelligence” but being “an avid reader.” His academic record was unremarkable. “I was a mediocre student in school, but I wasn’t concerned. I earned a D-minus in geometry in high school, and now I design bicycle frames.” Family responsibilities motivated him. “When I married and started a family, I was terrified of financial insecurity, and jobs requiring driving were not an option.” His work ethic drove his success. “I’ve worked incredibly hard, and it’s still surprising it’s worked out.” He shuns personal fame. “I don’t seek recognition. I want to create something lasting for the Rivendell team to build upon after I’m gone – not deceased, just off fishing. Meanwhile, I love my work, have no retirement plans, and feel fortunate, not exceptionally talented.”
Current Inspirations: Businesses and Products
What inspires Petersen currently? Are there businesses or products he admires?
“Hilleberg and Springbar tents,” he immediately answers. “Gransfors axes. Blue Lug bicycles in Tokyo surpasses even us in their approach. They don’t manufacture bikes, but sell ours and others, and their style, creativity, and intelligence are inspiring to me and the entire Rivendell team.” He admires Patagonia’s business ethics, “but not their mountain bike advertising.” He appreciates Ochs und Junior watches, “though I’d never spend that much, so I cherish my Mondaine.”
In photography, “Hasselblad cameras – simple, robust boxes that are incredibly effective and user-friendly once you overcome the initial learning curve. Ilford film – their dedication to black and white film is admirable. They focus and excel rather than diversifying broadly. I love everything about the Olympus OM-1 camera. Tom Whittle and Henk Verhaar’s bamboo fly rods, their distinct approaches and convictions. In cycling, Richard Sachs’s unwavering dedication and strength are inspiring. Our approaches differ, but his integrity strengthens me. He hasn’t compromised his principles, and his deep commitment resonates with me.”
Petersen values businesses and products “that prioritize product quality over metrics, growth, popularity. Market viability is essential, but once a business becomes large, market concerns can overshadow product focus. Product-driven often transitions to market-driven, prioritizing mass appeal and the lowest common denominator.” He cites Filson clothing as an example of compromising quality for broader appeal. “Filson softens fabrics, introduces pastel colors. I understand the business logic, but I’ve owned Filson jackets that never broke in and Double Tin Pants that were stiff and uncomfortable. However, I used them for city wear – my mistake!”
“I like business and products and people that think the product is more important than numbers, growth, popularity, and all that.”
“When large corporations acquire smaller companies, it’s often to leverage the smaller brand’s cachet to reach new markets, inevitably catering to consumers who didn’t initially appreciate the original brand. This often leads to diluted quality or restyling. Suddenly, outdoorsmen are buying pre-washed Filson shirts for their wives. Filson’s revenue triples, benefiting many, but potentially compromising product integrity.” He references a previous interview on the site. “Your interview with the person who admired Eddie Bauer’s vintage clothing – Eddie Bauer went mainstream, softened their product line, and where are they now?”
“Abercrombie and Fitch is another example. Mass expansion and mainstream appeal often damage core values for increased profits, though they also create more jobs. Larger size makes maintaining quality harder.” He acknowledges potential exceptions but admits limited knowledge. “I’m not in a position to criticize businesses I don’t understand, especially those employing thousands. But scale definitely complicates maintaining excellence.”
Recalling his time at REI in the 80s, he notes a symbolic shift. “In the mid-80s, REI Berkeley began selling Gumby toys, which some of us saw as a concerning sign. It’s about broadening appeal, but broader appeal isn’t always better. The barrier to entry lowers, and the narrative becomes that millions driving to wilderness areas and being content with mass-produced plastic outdoor gear until the next upgraded plastic version is released is somehow positive. It’s a system that functions.”
The Universal Appeal of the Bicycle
Finally, we asked about the bicycle’s global, almost universal appeal. What is it about these machines that inspires such passion?
“Speaking for the world,” Petersen declares, “bicycles are simple and fun. They are age-agnostic. Who enjoys cycling more – a five-year-old or an 85-year-old? It’s a tie. And I can confidently say nobody in the world loves cycling more than I do. It’s impossible.” His personal commitment is unwavering. “I ride every day I can, which is every day I’m not fishing. I’ve cycled approximately 98% of the days since April 22, 1970, the first Earth Day.”
He celebrates the word itself. “‘Bicycle’ is a beautiful word, enjoyable to write and say. I’ve even stopped using ‘bikes,’ as it can be ambiguous. ‘Bicycle’ is precise. For me, ‘bicycle’ is among the top five most delightful words in English, alongside ‘lollipop’, ‘platypus’, ‘chamomile’, and ‘salamander’.”
He concludes with a sweeping statement. “The only people who don’t love bicycles are those who don’t ride them or are unfamiliar with them – otherwise, there’s no excuse. Some may not prefer my specific type of bicycle – which is clear – but they love their own kinds of bicycles almost as much as I love mine.”
Explore Rivendell Bicycle Works further here. Interview by Sam Waller.
