BIKE FRIDAY “REAL” Archives Vol.1 / The real reason I love BIKE FRIDAY.

The story of a man who gave up security and chose the journey

If you think of BIKE FRIDAY as “a handy folding bike,”
or maybe “a slightly stylish bike for getting around town,”
I'd be glad if you could reset your thinking just a little before reading this story.

As you may know, I'm a bit of a contrarian. I have no intention of talking about bike specs here, the way ordinary bike shops so often do, and I'm not very interested in feel-good success stories about brands, either.

Let me say up front that this time, the subject is one particular choice: the choice to “give up security.”

It will also be a small confession: why, from the moment I started planning a shop called Circles, I kept sending BIKE FRIDAY offers to carry their bikes; how, after a long wait, we finally connected; and how, ever since, I've kept loving this bike maker for years with the same feeling I had at that first meeting.

There are many reasons, but one big one, I think, is that BIKE FRIDAY is a bike that was born out of one engineer's “rebellion” and his “love for his family.”

It started with scraps from a backyard swing

Have you heard of a brand called “Burley”?
These days you can spot them around town hitched even to electric “mamachari” city bikes — it's the global maker known for those yellow child trailers.

The person who founded Burley was in fact none other than Alan Scholz, the father of BIKE FRIDAY.

The story goes back to the 1970s.
At the time, Alan had his wife Bev, a formidable bike racer nicknamed “Burley Bev,” and their newborn daughter, Hannah.

What he had in mind was very simple.
“I want to go to the Saturday Market with my daughter without using the car!”

Alan cut up scrap material from an old swing set in his backyard, welded it together, and built the world's first child trailer.

It probably wasn't for business.
There would have been no market research, no business plan.
I think he simply wanted to ride his bike together with his family.

First, please know that this was how Burley began.

Not “what will sell,” but “what I want”

1992.
Alan found himself at a crossroads once again.

The Burley he had built had grown into a large organization, and, as large companies naturally do, it had come to seek “stability.”

In the middle of all that, Alan proposed this idea:
“Let's build a bike you can pack in a suitcase and take anywhere in the world —
and that still truly ‘rides.’”

The answer that came back from his own company, now a big organization, was very clear.

“NO.”
“Something that niche won't sell.”

Most people would probably have given up right there.
After all, he had status, a track record, and security.

But Alan was different.

“Then I'll do it myself.”

With that, he left the company he had founded.
He kicked away his comfortable seat and
chose to build a tool for going to worlds not yet seen.

Together with his brother Hanz, he picked up the welding torch in a garage once again.
What was born from that was
Green Gear Cycling, the company that still owns the BIKE FRIDAY brand today.

What flows through the factory in Oregon

Every time we visit the factory in Eugene, our hearts warm up just like always.

It isn't a tidy clean room like a big corporation would have.
The sound of steel being cut, sparks from welding, the smell of oil.
It's the air of a real workshop, the kind that properly soaks into you.

The craftspeople's hands are thick, scarred, and covered in oil.
Even the painting is done in their own factory. And those hands know a lot.

They know that “this frame is going to a place in Japan called Nagoya,
to someone who wants to ride like this.”

And today, the one steering that factory and the brand is Hannah Scholz — the very daughter Alan once carried in his homemade trailer on the way to the Sunday market.

A tool a father made for his daughter.
The bike that father truly wanted to build.
And now, the daughter has taken it on.

This isn't a finished story.
Perhaps you could call it a chain of choices that is still going on today.

What I want to share isn't specs

When we recommend a BIKE FRIDAY in the shop, it never becomes a job of simply lining up products and selling them.

We want to properly hand over to Japanese cyclists the “spirit of freedom they were willing to give up security to protect,” along with all the time they've put in, layer upon layer, in Oregon.

That's why we're particular about fitting, of course, and when it comes to folding, we try hard to convey what it truly means — and that their thinking is packed into every bit of the mechanism.

It fits your body perfectly,
you load it with as much gear as you can,
you roam around places you've never been,
and even if it gets scratched up along the way, you only grow more attached to it.

Just like FUN TOOLS, which I loved, BIKE FRIDAY isn't a bike for display — it's a tool meant to be used, properly and completely. That's what I want to get across, properly.

BIKE FRIDAY has faithfully carried on that “free spirit” — that identity Alan wanted so badly he left Burley, the company he himself founded.

Starting with this post, I'd like to continue over three installments with stories about these things and the will behind them.

Until then, take care, everyone. See you again next week.