The best I’ve ever heard Dave summarized was standing, in my civvies, behind a couple of dirty mountain bikers in line for a coffee. I overheard one of them describe him as “a guy who makes you laugh, or makes you think.” I’d add that it’s usually both. I’ve never had an interaction with him that I didn’t enjoy.
And what was BicycleHub? I suppose if we’re being literal it was a word-of-mouth bicycle service shop in a dimly-lit two-story brick & mortar down by the docks. Full of bikes, full of tools, simply just full. Full of banter, full of big ideas, full of smiles. In the truest sense of a sole proprietorship, BicycleHub was Dave and reflected his honest desire to get everyone out riding as soon as possible in a way that left them stoked on his service, and him.
In a greater sense, BicycleHub was also an embodiment of a dream shared by thousands of bike shop employees the world over.
I was surprisingly sad when I heard through the rumor mill that Dave was closing shop. I mean, not as sad as some of the depressing lamentations I’ve heard from his regular customers since, but genuinely down in the dumps. Why is (is) BicycleHub so special to me?
Indeed. In my years riding and in the bicycle industry more than a few companies have disappeared and I’ve given them nary a thought. But there are notable exceptions, like Balfa and CoreRat, who had a massively outsized influence on how I think about bikes, and gear compared to their scale.
There’s something deeply nourishing to my spirit about people making bikes in Canada fully accepting that only a few people are going to want one (“get it”), Squamish-made Cordura clothing that takes years to break in but has a half-life measured in decades, and the little service-specific shop that could when lots of folks told Dave it couldn’t.
Since my first days working in shops I’ve worked with some truly talented mechanics, and I’d hazard that there isn’t one of them who hasn’t thought about going out on their own and hanging up a shingle. But as refreshing as the dream of working for yourself may be the ebb-and-flow of a bicycle service season in Canada, out on your own making a living off your own two hands is a frightening proposition.
All the after-hours I spent in shops drinking beers or cranking out that one last promise for tomorrow whilst spitballing ideas with other staff for service shops, used bike shops, bicycle clothing stores – just something small and different – and I can count on my fingers the number I know who have put themselves out there.
The combination of very high rents and established norms for service prices here in North Vancouver makes it that much more daunting.
Then with solid year-round bookings, great customers, and plenty of time to ride he decided to hang up his apron and move with his partner to the Davemuda Triangle which is somewhere around the nexus point of Kamloops, Sunpeaks, and Barriere, BC.
I dropped in on Dave during his last few days in business here in North Vancouver and it was a strangely familiar scene to the first time I darkened his door at 1518 Columbia to check out his project. He was smiling, turning wrenches, telling stories, answering the phone, making promises that would have him wrenching hard right up to his last hours in the shop. Leaving with the passion he started with fully intact.
And then there was just the beautiful legacy of BicycleHub, which was Dave McInnes. Proof that if you smile, hustle, know your sh*t, do what you say, and treat people how you’d expect to be treated then you can hang your shingle outside a cinderblock special on a street to nowhere and the local mountain bike community will support you.
Come on then Bike Mechanic with a dream; we’re waiting for you.
In the meantime, check out what Dave’s up to now.