The Cycling Investment Program

As one of the few online Bicycling and Economics Magazines out there, we feel a degree of responsibility to educate the common (ie: dumb) reader about the complicated and delicate ballet these two related topics play in our everyday lives. Yes, we may use scientific phrases that could be confusing, like “dirt poor” or “broke-ass” (hyphenated, as it was in the original Latin), but don’t be put off. If you struggle through the bulk of the information here, you may learn something.

As I watched the market panic this afternoon after the House voted down the bailout package, I initially thought of the words of Herbert Hoover who said, famously, of the Crash of ’29: “Shit.” Like most Americans, I had also hoped that this bailout package would pass, as I had already spent my portion of the bailout kicker check that imagined we would all receive (roughly $88,000) on 44 pairs of EC90 carbon wheels. I was not buying these wheels for me. No. That would be selfish. I would purchase these wheels to stimulate the economy, and I would ride a different pair each week in honor of the brave men and women who forclosed on their homes and made this kicker check possible. God bless us. And never forget.

But after thinking more about it, I realized that the S&P drop of 10% this afternoon is actually a good thing for me and my cycling hobby. Let me count the ways:

1. While the value of the dollar may fall, the value of my bicycles in Mad Max-like post-economic apocalypse will skyrocket. Bikes are no longer just Veblen goods for elite athletes. So throw some spikes on that Langster and post it to craigslist. You’ll soon be knee deep in worthless US dollars.

2. No job = lots of ride time = an amazing race season: Those Free Market fools from the Chicago School were wrong about macro principles but right about competitve cycling! Without the external intervention of “the man” (you know… like working), the racing this season is going to be top quality.

3. I don’t really have any money anyway, so any tears I shed are just tears of social anxiety. Like when you’re sitting in room of people listening to Prairie Home Companion, and everyone starts laughing when they make an ol’ timey sound effect, and then I start laughing just because everyone else did. Well, I didn’t actually think that was funny. I just didn’t know what else to do.

4. I’m out. I’m out of ideas.┬áSo… three. There are three ways that this was a good thing.

I’m going to go buy 40lbs of rice. Have a nice ride.