Ten years is generally considered a generation in society, and there are moments when I inevitably feel the differences in thinking and perception between those generations. It occurred to me, rather belatedly, that I must cherish the ten years we have spent together.

First of all, thanks to all of you, Circles will be celebrating its 10th birthday this December.
I am truly grateful for this, as it is entirely due to the support of the local community who visit Circles every day, make various requests, and purchase our products.
Thanks to the internet, we have also received much support from people in regions that would have been difficult to reach in the world of ten years ago, and I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all as well.

Thank you all so very much.

While much of the past decade must have been enjoyable, it goes without saying that not all of our memories are happy ones. Often, my lack of study and the problems it caused cross my mind, and I am always left reflecting on those memories. One could say that time has been long, or that it has been incredibly fast, but as the title suggests, I believe the value of that time is defined by how we spend it. As I find myself growing older, I have come to feel strongly that I want to use what is called the world's most valuable time as meaningfully as possible from here on out.
In any case, I feel that looking back on the past is a useful exercise. Over the next few installments, I would like to record my genuine feelings, which I’m calling a Chronicle, written as best I can despite my lack of literary talent.

I would be honored if you could read it when you have a moment.

– The Circles Chronicle: Act of Initiation –

In the summer of 2002, I washed my hands of the apparel industry, which I had loved deeply for a long time.

The three years I spent in America taught me about many meaningless things and meaningful things.

Humans, who are always depicted as a foolish species in British fairy tales, can only learn through experience, and it is only by applying that experience that they are truly brought to life.
However, feeling that most of that crucial experience was beginning to be skipped over, I decided to become obsessed with taking action.

After leaving the clothing store where I had worked, I asked for an apprenticeship at my regular bike shop, but was turned down. I figured, "well, that's fine," and spent every day immersed in cycling, going to the pool whenever I had free time, and doing as much housework as I could.

I did visit a few bike shops that were looking for staff, but nothing really clicked.
Well, I’m the type who isn't interested in things that aren't outstanding, so it couldn't be helped. The only thing that slightly bothered me was that I couldn't tell if those shops actually loved bicycles or what on earth they were selling, yet they were running successful businesses.

That feeling permeates the whole city.
And if I were to summarize that, I wonder if that is what Nihon (Japan) is.

However, fate takes unexpected turns.
A position opened up at a long-established store I happened to visit. I felt I had discovered both curiosity and a future in that shop, which was famous for being the biggest discount store in Japan. In my youth, I was only interested in pioneering and quality, but having gained a little experience, I felt that perhaps experiencing and touching upon a philosophy at the polar opposite of that was the shortest route to the future.
Finally, I was able to slide into this industry, just as my 20s were about to pass by in a flash.

Not knowing how to sell bicycles, I first busied myself selling tacky Japanese and Italian jerseys so I would be recognized. Personally, I was reluctant even to put my arms through them, but people would buy them, lured by the slogans of low prices.
While I wondered why, a job is a job; I just needed to do what I could in a quiet, steady manner.

But I remember that David, whom I met there, was very cool.
At the time, we were distributing Assos, and they stuck to the idea of "this is how things should be," even in their sales methods. They also knew the true meaning of branding. In a way, it was unbelievable that there were shops that wouldn't put Assos on their shelves, but I decided to thoroughly sell this brand at list price. And despite being sold at list price, it sold exceptionally well.
It was a good moment for me to realize that even customers who come in looking for low prices are actually interested in things other than just price, and to recognize that the person I had been mocking was actually the biggest fool of all.

Around the same time, cool cyclists in San Francisco were building flat-bar cyclocross bikes for fun rides in the off-season. A giant in Scotts Valley used them as a reference, named them "cross bikes," and they began to sell like crazy. I assembled those complete bikes in large quantities every day, learning the joy of dealing with low-grade Shimano and Campagnolo parts that lacked precision, as well as learning much about the nature of the products themselves. I think the reason I was able to learn so much in such a short time is because that shop was a long-standing, established one with a proven sales record.
At the same time, my bad habits started to emerge, and I became interested only in pursuing what was truly worth knowing, losing all interest in anything other than the essential meaning behind the tool that is the bicycle.

Nihon was far too ignorant and completely lacked anything resembling a challenging spirit. Furthermore, despite being an industry that loves competition, there was a certain lamentation over the complete lack of competition created by something akin to bid-rigging. But, believing that I had my own work to do and my own future to forge, I decided to take action.

I learned a great deal from my previous job in the apparel industry.
However, that field also had a certain kind of tepidness, and a feeling that the definition of fashion was growing old, while the things consumers sought remained the same year after year. (Though, thinking about it now, I suppose I would have felt the same way no matter where I was.)
Perhaps I wanted to make the act of facing customers more meaningful, wielding the brashness that is the prerogative of youth in my own selfish way.

From the moment I decided to start the shop, I began making contacts in San Francisco and Oregon right after the New Year.
While I was still an employee, on my days off I would stand in front of Aeon, Lassic, and the Osu arcade for three or four hours, combining people-watching with research. I wandered the streets by bike, carefully scouting locations, and finally had a local deity bless the construction in October 2006.

Gradually, I kept reaching out to cool cyclists in Philly, Canada, and Japan. I flew 50 SOMA frames directly from SF, which weren't available in Japan at the time; ordered three handmade bikes from Mike DeSalvo; stocked a massive number of messenger bags from Mr. Minato in Ichikawa, whom I met fatefully through overseas correspondence; and sent all the clothes I no longer wore to Mr. Yamamoto to be remade into 7/10-length pants and shirts with back pockets. I made stickers myself on an inkjet printer—cheap as they were—and used them as price tags. I reached out to real messenger Izuru, whom I'd met at the F shop, and had him help with the preparations; we installed his phone in the shop, and when I let future artists dirty the mechanic's room with graffiti, that was, in a sense, the peak of my excitement. Of course, I also prepared newspaper insert flyers.

And then, on the morning of our opening day, December 1st, 2006, I lost my voice.

I think it was probably stress-related, but regardless, I couldn't speak.
For someone like me, who could be described as living by my mouth alone, I was honestly panicking about such a start.
As I mentioned before, there was a reason I had the shop blessed; the property I rented was a former used clothing store, and the owner had died in a traffic accident the day before opening. I’m not really one to get spooked, but I was seriously scared, which is why I asked the local deity to purify it. Well, I can think now that at least I have my life.

Regardless of anything else, it was the opening.
I had set the price of the stock I purchased to almost cost, and the flyers were already distributed. I felt bad for the Maruishi sales rep who got heaps of complaints from neighboring bike shops, but I was desperate too. (And since Maruishi is a Chinese company and practically non-existent now, it’s probably past the statute of limitations.)
With a broken voice and gestures, I managed to sell the 5 bikes I thought would take at least 3 hours to move in just 30 minutes.
I could feel that all the various things I had done until now had truly become a part of me.
All that was left was to wait for the constant stream of flat tire repairs and chain replacements to come in.

But the reality was rolling in a completely different direction from what I had imagined.
In the past, there was an era, the so-called bubble period, when many hard-to-ride downhill bikes flooded Aoyama.
And because of cyclical trends, kids who didn't need to look at their own standing were slowly starting to turn their eyes toward bicycles again. Most industry people didn't recognize this fact, so I thought, "well, it can't be helped," contacted that old shop, and got my hands on every fixie frame I could. However, because of various anxieties and the memories of searching for jeans 10 years ago, I realized intuitively that this was not what I wanted to do.

Having arrived at the answer that functionality itself does not hold the essential substance of a tool, I devoted myself to selling my favorite bike, the Steamroller, as thoroughly as possible. Yes, just like those bib shorts.
And for the sake of the next 10 to 20 years.
And that led to the Cross-Check, and I am convinced that the world inevitably came to know the Surly brand. (I'll save that story for next time.)

Three years pass in the blink of an eye.

A few unusual but decent people pass through Circles as usual.

The 12-tsubo (approx. 400 sq. ft.) original shop quickly became too small, and the two sales staff and four mechanics were starting to overflow.

Calls came from the Civil Engineering Office and the police; we were branded a "homo shop" on 2channel. (Thanks to that, I finally became a genuine subculture-hater, on par with Miyazaki and Tomino. I’m grateful.)

We were busy doing the NUTS (Urban Orienteering) every month.

Couples who met there get married every year.

I am convinced that bicycles can be a wonderful catalyst for meeting people.

Fate delivered a building to me that shared the same birth month and year as my own.

And so, 2009 was coming to an end.

(Final day of business at the old Circles shop / Photographer: Ochiai)

– To be continued in "The Circles Chronicle: Layered and Content Don't Betray" –

– INFORMATION –

Circles 10th Anniversary Festival

Location: PLASTIC FACTORY
Date and Time: December 3rd (Sat) from 7:00 PM

We are currently in build-up mode to ensure we have a wonderful time with you all.
I would be happy if you could mark it in your calendars.