Tom Brown
Epsilon contributor
- Joined
- Sep 20, 2007
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When I was still in diapers, a family from Holland moved in next door to us. The man ran a bicycle repair in the fatherland so he took care of the bikes in the neighborhood in the evenings after his day job. Before long, he started selling bikes and his unfinished basement turned into a full time bike shop.
From there, Fritz moved into a basement shop downtown and his son joined him. The downtown basement shop, like the house basement shop, was open studs with everything blackened from soot of the coal that had once heated the building. It was more or less mid evil.
Over the course of the 15, or so, years they spent there, the basement shop filled with so much equipment the bikes were hanging from the ceiling, as well as filling the floor so you could hardly get into the place. The workshop was a bench along one short wall and they allowed themselves just enough work area to fix one bike at a time.
In the 80s, they moved to a huge building. Of course, it was an old building in sorry shape in a lousy part of town but they packed it with bikes and ran a very successful business out of it for 20 years.
Over the course of those 20 years, three grandsons became involved with the thriving business. One of those grandsons was busted a few of times for selling weed. Apparently he had a rather large operation because it hit the local paper. He isnât part of the bike business anymore and I haven't seen him in over a decade.
Two years ago, they moved to a new place in a much better part of town. This new building is a bit bigger than the old one. I donât think they have much more inventory but the whole thing is way nicer. I think some of the family women have retired because I havenât seen them around in a few years.
The local Chamber of Commerce listed them as a $5 million dollar business a few years ago. I donât know what they would be now but certainly more than that.
I went there to pick up a pair of SPD shoes and the whole family was there. One of the grandsons recognized me as a good customer, smiled, and jumped to help me right away. He said he recognized me as a long time customer from the old store. His Dad came over and informed his son that I had been a customer since the basement store on Lorne Street. That somewhat staggered the son. â¦. And then his dad cleaned up the spare with a very heart felt thank you for my family being there to help them move into their first house when they moved to Canada and get established in the neighborhood. It was one of the lowest ghettos in the city. Everyone struggled to feed themselves. They don't come from money and neither do we. Then he told me something I hadnât known before; my Dad helped him start his business back in the early 1960s.
That helped to explain my familyâs blood oath loyalty to Dutch Cycle. Needless to say, when I need bike stuff, I go there and always have.
This whole deal got me thinking about their success. They remain humble, loyal, and friendly. Somehow, Fritz recognized me instantly but Iâll bet he hasnât seen me more than a half dozen times since I was 12 years old. He also knew the names of everyone in my immediate family and asked about their whereabouts and well being. How does a man in his 70s do that?
They gave me the âElphinstone Street discountâ, which I think is exactly the same as what everyone else pays. Their prices are pretty sharp so thatâs not a problem.
Where does that kind of loyalty come from? There is no question, every bike I ever buy will be delivered through the front door of Dutch Cycle. My bikes have all been their current favorite brand. I expect my future bikes will be, as well. I'm buying whatever they're selling.
From there, Fritz moved into a basement shop downtown and his son joined him. The downtown basement shop, like the house basement shop, was open studs with everything blackened from soot of the coal that had once heated the building. It was more or less mid evil.
Over the course of the 15, or so, years they spent there, the basement shop filled with so much equipment the bikes were hanging from the ceiling, as well as filling the floor so you could hardly get into the place. The workshop was a bench along one short wall and they allowed themselves just enough work area to fix one bike at a time.
In the 80s, they moved to a huge building. Of course, it was an old building in sorry shape in a lousy part of town but they packed it with bikes and ran a very successful business out of it for 20 years.
Over the course of those 20 years, three grandsons became involved with the thriving business. One of those grandsons was busted a few of times for selling weed. Apparently he had a rather large operation because it hit the local paper. He isnât part of the bike business anymore and I haven't seen him in over a decade.
Two years ago, they moved to a new place in a much better part of town. This new building is a bit bigger than the old one. I donât think they have much more inventory but the whole thing is way nicer. I think some of the family women have retired because I havenât seen them around in a few years.
The local Chamber of Commerce listed them as a $5 million dollar business a few years ago. I donât know what they would be now but certainly more than that.
I went there to pick up a pair of SPD shoes and the whole family was there. One of the grandsons recognized me as a good customer, smiled, and jumped to help me right away. He said he recognized me as a long time customer from the old store. His Dad came over and informed his son that I had been a customer since the basement store on Lorne Street. That somewhat staggered the son. â¦. And then his dad cleaned up the spare with a very heart felt thank you for my family being there to help them move into their first house when they moved to Canada and get established in the neighborhood. It was one of the lowest ghettos in the city. Everyone struggled to feed themselves. They don't come from money and neither do we. Then he told me something I hadnât known before; my Dad helped him start his business back in the early 1960s.
That helped to explain my familyâs blood oath loyalty to Dutch Cycle. Needless to say, when I need bike stuff, I go there and always have.
This whole deal got me thinking about their success. They remain humble, loyal, and friendly. Somehow, Fritz recognized me instantly but Iâll bet he hasnât seen me more than a half dozen times since I was 12 years old. He also knew the names of everyone in my immediate family and asked about their whereabouts and well being. How does a man in his 70s do that?
They gave me the âElphinstone Street discountâ, which I think is exactly the same as what everyone else pays. Their prices are pretty sharp so thatâs not a problem.
Where does that kind of loyalty come from? There is no question, every bike I ever buy will be delivered through the front door of Dutch Cycle. My bikes have all been their current favorite brand. I expect my future bikes will be, as well. I'm buying whatever they're selling.
