Once upon a time, there were two neighbors in a comfortable suburb in the Midwestern US. As spring approached, both decided that a new bike was in order. Their old bicycles, which they'd had since they were teenagers, were finally wearing to the point they could not be repaired.
Mr. R, a man who is always looking for a bargain, started and ended his bike shopping experience at J-Mart, a regional supermarket chain. Price was of utmost concern to Mr. R, who prided himself on how much money he had saved on furniture, electronics, and replacement windows in his home. Having shopped for bikes for his children, he knew there was no cheaper place than J-Mart to buy one. When he got there, he saw a bike hanging from the wall that looked fine, smiled at the price, and had the cashier ring one up. The store employee loaded a box into Mr. R's car, and Mr. R was off to assemble his shiny new bike.
Mr. S, his neighbor, was concerned with quality, especially when it came to something like a bicycle, or replacement windows. He checked out the local bike shops, which are known for carrying higher-end, and more expensive, bikes. While a good-quality bike certainly stretched his budget, he listened to the advice from the experienced salespeople (most of whom are avid bikers themselves), shopped around, and got a good price on a top-rated bike from Barry's Hometown Bicycles.
Both bought a 21-speed bike with handle brakes and red paint. Mr. R's cost was $65. Mr. S's was $350.
On the first Saturday following their purchases, Mr. R and Mr. S decided to take a ride together. As they were getting started, Mr. R discovered the seat on his bike was so high, he had trouble getting onto it. He didn't realize there were different sizes of bikes, and that some were taller than others. He had only seen the bike on display at J-Mart, but hadn't tried it out.
Mr. S had taken the advice of the salesperson at the bike shop and had ridden several bikes around the block to find the one that fit him best. He was comfortable and ready for his ride.
Mr. R lowered the seat as much as he could, they were off. "This is OK, I can get used to this," he said to himself.
It was a beautiful, sunny day. The birds were singing, the bees were buzzing, and all the moms were out on their patios and decks, lightly napping while the children played quietly nearby. No one was pushing, fighting, yelling, or refusing to share their goldfish crackers. Birds flew to remote locations to chirp so as not to deprive the deserving residents of their peace.
Mr. S and Mr. R, full of energy and anticipation, merged onto the street and down the hill towards the city limits. At the first stop sign, Mr. S brought his bike to a smooth stop by lightly applying his brakes. Mr. R sailed straight through the intersection, each hand uselessly squeezing its respective brake handle. Mr. R had assembled the bike himself, but had not realized his brakes were not adjusted for him at the factory. The 100-page assembly and maintenance booklet, with instructions in three languages, was too complicated for him to understand, and he took it on faith that the manufacturer set up everything correctly before it was put in the box.
Mr. S offered to go back to the house and help Mr. R adjust his brakes, which delayed their trip by 20 minutes. Mr. R found that Mr. S's booklet, while much smaller, did a better job of explaining brakes and how to adjust them.
With the brakes adjusted, the two started off again on their journey. At the first stop sign, Mr. S applied his brakes and came to a smooth stop. Mr. R also came to a stop, but when it came to starting up again, Mr. R's brakes appeared to be stuck to his wheel. On further inspection, they weren't actually stuck to the wheel; rather, the wheel was out of alignment, and the rim was misshapen at the location where the brake pad was resting. Mr. S had no such problem - Barry's Hometown Bicycles always adjusts and tunes a bike before selling it, and the rims were round and true on his bike, as they should be.
Mr. R decided to continue, figuring that he could just pedal a little harder to overcome the problems with the rim. On each revolution, the rim brushed the brake pad, slowing him down a little, and he worked harder and harder to keep his speed up. Mr. S slowed himself down to allow Mr. R keep pace. Mr. S was starting to wish he had gone out alone.
With some difficulty on Mr. R's part, and little difficulty on Mr. S's, they eventually found themselves about ten miles from home. Mr. R was exhausted - he had pedaled hard to keep his speed up. His legs were burning. He was also starting to realize another drawback of the great bargain he had gotten for his bike: its weight. His bike weighed a lot more than Mr. S's, and moving that extra weight over ten miles had caused him to work that much harder than Mr. S. Mr. S had taken the advice of the salesperson at the bike shop and bought a bike with an aluminum frame, which is lighter than steel. He had researched bikes before buying one, and the salesperson's recommendation of an aluminum frame made sense. Mr. S could feel the lightness of his new bike compared to his previous bike, and he was glad he spent the extra $30 for the upgrade.
As Mr. S was feeling proud of his purchase, and the good decision he had made, Mr. R was experiencing another problem: the gear shifters on his bike were no longer working properly. He could now only shift into the highest gears - shifting to lower gears resulted in a clicking and grinding noise because the chain was not being guided to the correct sprocket. Being in high gear was great going down a hill, but not going up. At first, this was not too much of a problem, but after ten miles, his problems were adding quickly. Brakes, weight, shifters, a bike that is a little too tall to be comfortable...
He didn't tell Mr. S about the shifting problems - he was already embarrassed enough.
Mr. R had his phone with him, and was considering calling his wife to come pick him up. But he knew she had earned the nap she was taking on the patio, and this was his problem. He would have to get home by himself, and he was going to have to pedal.
While Mr. R was letting the reality of the situation sink in, Mr. S was, predictably, regretting his choice of bicycle companion. He had another 15-20 miles in him, but he wouldn't be able to ride that far today. He had stuck by his friend, slowing down for him regularly, while politely assuring him it wasn't a problem. He would make it back home with Mr. R, but would find a way to take the next bike ride on his own. Mr. R was a late riser on weekends, and Mr. S could easily be out of the house before Mr. R was out of his pajamas. Mr. S penciled next week's ride into his mental calendar: 7:00 am.
Mr. S. pulled the water bottle from the holder on his bike and took a long drink. Mr. R, who had a water bottle in a small backpack, took a drink of his as well. They started to plan their return trip, with Mr. R suggesting a flatter route than the one that had brought them to this point.
As they set off, Mr. R reflected on his purchase and how much money he had saved. Originally, he had patted himself on the back for his wise purchase, and had privately criticized his neighbor for buying such an expensive bike: "Mine is the same as his, and he paid five times more than I did! I'm so smart!" Now, he wasn't so sure. Mr. S had a bike he would be able to ride for years to come, and he had a bike he was already considering selling in the newspaper for $20.
The return trip was no picnic; Mr. R, who was not used to such physical labor, strained and pushed to get his bike home. Mr. S, feeling an oddly refreshing ache from his first real bike ride in a long time, parted company with Mr. R and went in for a shower and change of clothes.
As Mr. R watched Mr. S go inside, he had an idea: "I can take my bike to the shop and have them fix all these problems for me! They can't make the bike shorter, but they can adjust the gears and the brakes and the rims. I'll be able to keep up with Mr. S next weekend!"
Twenty minutes later, Mr. R arrived at Barry's Hometown Bicycles, grunted a huge grunt as he struggled to lift his very heavy bike out of the back of his minivan, and wheeled it into the shop.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, I bought this bike at J-Mart, and it need some adjusting. The brakes are not working very well, the rim is wobbly, and I'm unable to shift into the lower gears."
"Let me take a look. Be right back."
The technician put the bike on a stand to inspect it as its owner browsed the merchandise. "$350, $450, $900? Wow! These bikes are so expensive! Who would ever pay $900 for a bike like that?" He looked at the maintenance tools, helmets, shoes, shorts, car carriers, and all the other items a serious bike rider might need.
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Yes."
"Well, I can fix the wheel that's out of round, but I'm afraid the only way to fix the brakes is to replace them. They're made of a light metal that won't stand up to hard use, and the springs in them are not strong enough to rebound when you release the handle. The pads will wear out quickly - we can sell you some better pads that will last for much longer."
"Oh."
"And the shifters you have are not standard parts we carry because they are only used on discount bicycles, so there's not much we can do for you there. We can replace the handlebar shifters and try to adjust the shifting mechanisms, but I can't guarantee anything. Our owner usually doesn't like us to even try, because the customer is never happy with the results, but I'll give it a shot if you want."
"How much will all this cost?"
"$275."
---
Mr. R was out of options, and he couldn't justify paying that kind of money to fix a bike that was so inexpensive to begin with. He finished filling out the Classified Ad form on his local newspaper's website: "21-speed mens bike. Low miles. Red. $20".
What had started as a light rain grew increasingly harder and louder as night fell. Mr. R's tired legs and mind were a reminder of his day, and a saying he had once heard sprang up out of nowhere: "A fool is a person who knows the cost of everything, but the value of nothing."
"Honey?" called Mrs. R from the upstairs bedroom.
"Yes?"
"Honey, come upstairs! The new windows are leaking!"
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