I worked in bike shops all through high school and college. I may not have been the most able mechanic, but I could also sell bikes, balance the register at the end of the night, and drink beer for eight hours after we locked our doors. The other night I put some fenders on my commuter. Too many days of arriving at work with my shoes full of water and a huge black stripe up my back. What would have taken me 15 minutes in the shop took about two hours in my living room. I finished triumphant, with my fenders on my bike, if a little bit wonky, and with three bloody knuckles and a six-pack drank. I had to admit to myself that I'll never work in another bike shop, but that's okay with me as long as I can still keep drinking the beer.
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