There must be some kind of retail magic around this tore, because 99.936% of the folks who walk through my door are sweet and friendly folks. Today the store is filled with the sound of heavy metal music and people giggling as they work out where the damn zipper on the chaps goes. Are these inside out? Upside down? What the hey?
Dear medium-small motocross-ridin’ woman;
I have some nice gear for you here. And it’s not pink.
… except the helmet. Sorry about that part.
Get your motorcycle up and running for spring! Here’s BCAA’s collection of tips….
Jeepers, these are amazing boots. They make even old-style Daytons feel like lightweights. I can’t wait to see what they look like with a few years wear into them.
Yes, that particular beautiful helmet you’d been looking at sold three weeks ago. Yes, I know you gambled that it wouldn’t sell yet, and the price would therefore be lower today, but in the meantime someone else came in and gave me money. Ruthlessly, I let them have the helmet. No, waving and huffing at the place on the shelf where it used to be won’t help. Don’t go away mad, now….
Adding machine just jumped on my head from a top shelf.Â Ow. Wee paper roll unscrolled all over me and the floor. I think it’s just overeager about month-end.
Some nice folks came in and bought some gear today. They said they’d found a single business card lying in a lonely parking lot in Chilliwack a while back, and that’s how they’d found out about the store. I’d never thought about that method of advertising, honestly.Â Now I wonder.
Hullo, claustrophobic lady who was looking for a hybrid (full face where all the chin stuff and visor can be shoved up temporarily so you can kiss your honey or talk to a cop or eat ice cream), I now have one in silver, size medium.
Thanks to good friend and part-time store-minder River Tucker for giving me a hand yesterday to re-organize the store to fit in the new rack for the new stuff coming in!Â Drop in and tell me what you think.
Running a store catering to motorcycle riders is like running a whorehouse — a fair percentage of the time you can hear your customers coming.