Thoughts From The Bars About Sales, Business and Life

The more time I spend behind bars, the more I learn.

Of course, I am referencing handlebars and not Tiki Bars! 

There’s a certain peace and clarity that comes from being on a bicycle. It’s not just about the ride; it’s about the rhythm, the pace, the adjustment, the learning. The more that I ride the more that I realize that every ride is a lesson—not just in cycling, but in life, work, and growth.

The Learning Phase

I taught myself to ride a two-wheeler at the age of four. I couldn’t wait for an adult to help—I had to learn, right then and on that day. From that moment on, bikes have been a constant in my life.

Like you, I still remember my first new bike—a brown Columbia with a banana seat, raised handlebars, and a 3-speed shifter on the crossbar. It was my tenth birthday present and cost my parents a steep $60 at the time (a fraction of its value in today’s market). It was freedom, independence, and coolness all rolled into one.

Since then, I’ve owned and sold more bikes than I can count. It’s been a side hustle, a hobby, and a way to connect with people. Selling bikes is fun because it’s always a happy transaction. Whether it’s for a kid, a grandkid, or someone rediscovering riding in midlife, there’s joy in every exchange.

A Reflection On Riding

Every Father’s Day weekend, I ride about 150 miles over three days with a group of friends. We’re all around the same age—older than many reading this—and we prioritize three things: good company, good food, and great laughs. Yes, it’s possible to gain weight on a long ride if you ride with us!

I currently own three bikes: a road bike for long-distance rides, a “hybrid” for shorter sessions, and my favorite—a fat-tire bike that I ride on the beach. Each one requires a different style, a different mindset, even different shoes. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate that I must continually adapt not only to the bike I’m on—but also to the body I’m riding with.

Last year’s ride feels different this year. That sore knee has become a real problem. That extra body weight? It matters when you’re climbing a hill. If I try to ride like I did two years ago—ignore the pain, use the wrong gear, stay stuck in my old habits—the riding would be less fun and I may not even be able to finish. 

So I ask myself:

• What gear should I be in?
• Where should my weight be on the saddle?
• Should I pedal with force or with rhythm?
• What should I eat, and when?

I tweak, I test, I learn. Every ride is an experiment. Every experiment is a lesson.

The Sales and Business Parallel

Now imagine if I didn’t adapt. If I ignored what my body told me. If I refused advice from more experienced riders. If I clung to the idea that I already knew everything I needed to know.

I’d get hurt—or at best, I’d have a miserable ride. I would lose a lot more than I would gain.

And yet… how many of us do exactly that in our sales opportunities and our careers?

We stop learning. We resist feedback. We hold on to old habits that don’t serve us anymore. And then we wonder why others are passing us by, why work feels harder, why we feel stuck.

Just like cycling, professional success requires a continuous learning mindset. We need to adjust our posture, find the right gear, stay alert, and yes—sometimes grind uphill until the next downhill coast comes into view.

Handling The Hills (Hard Parts Of The Ride )

Speaking of hills—some of them are brutal. A few riders in our group race to the top, but most of us struggle. We grunt, we groan, we swear. The trick I’ve learned is to narrow my focus on the next immediate objective. I don’t look up at the top of the climb. I look eight feet ahead. That’s it. Just the next eight feet. The top of the hill doesn’t matter if I can’t get through the next eight feet of road.

Step by step, crank by crank, the hill gets smaller and I can reach the objective.

And when I reach the top? I lift my head. I enjoy the speed, the wind, the view. But I stay alert. That downhill rush is no time to relax completely—potholes, other riders, and deer don’t announce themselves.

The lesson? Don’t get complacent when things get easy. That’s when costly mistakes happen.

So here’s the truth: riding a bike isn’t always easy.

Especially not when it seems everything around you is changing. When you do it year after year, on new terrain, in a changing body, with new tools. It takes awareness, practice, and humility.

The next time someone says, “It’s as easy as riding a bike,” send them this article.

Oh—and if you are riding a bike?
Wear a helmet.