For many folks, their bicycle(s) represent more than just objects. Exactly what that means varies greatly from rider to rider. There are abundant different examples from naming their steeds to seeking the perfect custom paintwork. The person who hangs on to the old rig they never ride anymore even though it’s taking up space and would be worth some cash because of the memories imbued in it is one of my favourites. But suffice it to say that age, experiences, upgrades, and other customizations often combine to make that two-wheeled machine more than the sum of its parts. At least to its owner.  

I get called out sometimes for talking about ‘belly button bikes.’ You know, “everyone’s got one so I don’t need to hear about yours.” The reason for the derision is usually that folks assume I’m being an elitist who’s failing to account for folks’ limited budgets or if I point out my love for min-maxed frankenbikes, limited mechanical abilities, and experiences. 

The truth is that Triple-Bs come along at a wide variety of price points and the folks who are usually most sensitive about the designation are those who’ve specifically gone out of their way to dump a box of cash to ride something ‘unique.’ And it’s not that I’m trying to be a dick, it’s just this is North Vancouver. The other two Geometron’s were basically identical to yours. Sorry, but you’re riding with five other folks with carbon S-Works Enduro frames. If you ride really quick you might be able to catch the two guys who just rolled through here a minute ago – they were on Doctahawks too. All real examples. 

And I mean, ride whatever you can afford, like, performs best for you, whatever – mountain biking is awesome. The point is simply that if you’re a passionate bike nerd seeking to invest in more than a bicycle, but rather a unique trailside icebreaker as well, you may be disappointed to know having a sticker with your nickname on your top tube will garner more trailside, or coffee shop, chats than a 1K pair of titanium eeWings cranks. 

Heck, the right sticker has more talking power than a thumb-shifter, rigid fork, and a purple-ano single-speed cog with “I’m A Delicate Fucking Flower” laser-etched into it.  

Years ago, when the Clairebarian was very small, I was working nights a couple times a week. It was a good crew of folks including my friend Rowan, who was known as Lord Furrow Brow and my friend Dylan, AKA Pickleman. And in our after-dark adventures, I was called Drew-Bob. 

Claire thought that was f***ing hilarious just because of how it sounded, but when she learned that it was “actually my name,” being a combination of Andrew and Robert, that put things over the top. Everywhere we’d go she introduce me as Drew-Bob, sometimes four, five, or six times to the same person in a single conversation. 

One night, when we were hanging up a bazillion dollars in kids’ Patagucci clothing I received a message from my friends Kelsie and Dumpster Bear asking if I was at work. Yes. And if I could come out and meet them in the parking lot. Yes. And ‘t’was there, in the dark, in the carpark, that I received my first shiny ‘Drew-Bob’ sticker. 

Now, maybe you don’t like to talk to people – on the trail of having a beverage – or prefer a proper sleeper bike, or just don’t give a shit what other folks think in general. That’s cool. I know plenty of folks who treat their bike like a commodity to be replaced as soon as something ‘better’ captures their attention. Great, BBB away. 

But if you do want your bike to be your own, you don’t have to drop a bunch of cash to do it. And, no, I’m not claiming this is a new idea or my own original thoughts. At the first bike shop that I worked at we used to sell a ton of stickers – usually to the BMX kids looking to make their BMX theirs. 

It’s simply the easiest cure for the belly button bike blues.