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Wheels of good fortune
Article by Susan Flynn @ Salem News - March 21st, 2009
On his 57th birthday last May, Bill Kerr got the best present of his life. His bosses told him he was out of a job.
He had worked about 20 years in the semiconductor industry, making "tons and tons of money," yet increasingly becoming more and more miserable with the endless meetings and high-stress demands of the job.
Kerr left work that night and rode home to Hamilton on his bike, as he always did. This time, though, he chose the long way through Danvers, Topsfield and Ipswich, riding past open fields and stone walls just as house lights were starting to flicker on. He could smell steaks on the grill and hear birds in the trees.
"Almost anyone who rides any length of time will tell you this," Kerr says, "four or five pedal strokes, and whatever was bothering you is gone."
He felt relieved. His daughter said God did for him what he wouldn't do for himself. Still, the father of four needed a job, and the economy was tanking.
A career coach posed the question: What would you do if you could do anything?
His answer: play with bicycles.
As a kid growing up in Hamilton, he would walk to the Manchester dump and pick out random bike parts from the heaps to bring home and reassemble.
Today, he keeps a separate shed to house his collection of 25 to 30 old bikes.
He figures he knows pretty much every mountain bike trail from Lynn to the tip of Gloucester.
"Freedom," Kerr says, explaining the draw of bikes for him. "Total freedom."
For six months, he resisted the idea of turning his passion into profits. An accountant friend told him "under no circumstances" should he open a bike shop in this financial climate. Another friend suggested he was completely nuts.
On March 2, during a snowstorm, Beverly Cycles opened on Dodge Street.
In an economy where stores are closing and people keep losing their jobs, it's a relief to see a new business open. Someone still has hope, and you start rooting for them to make it, as much for your own financially fragile psyche as for them.
The first day the shop opened, not a single customer stepped inside. Ten inches of snow is not conducive to a bike-shopping mood. But now the store is averaging 15 to 20 customers a day, a sign to Kerr that maybe he's not crazy, that maybe people are willing to spend money on things just because they make them happy.
"I haven't regretted my decision yet," he says smiling, "but it's been only three weeks."
After spending some time with Kerr, you no longer ask, "Why open the shop now?" You start to wonder what took him so long. This is a guy who believes in the bicycle.
He still bikes to work every day and seldom drives a car. So devoted is he to this way of life, he's offering "bicycle day care," inviting commuters to leave bikes at his shop for safekeeping before hopping on the train.
Kerr thinks most of us spend too much time cocooned in our cars, our sensations dulled to our surroundings.
The other day he watched incredulously as a woman parked her car at a shopping plaza, got out to go to a bank and then drove a little farther down in the lot to reach another store.
When you ride your bike, Kerr says, every day you see something new. You notice the colors of the sky and the buds on the trees. Even the asphalt looks beautiful.
"One day," he says, dreamily, "the road is this beautiful silver gray, and the next day it's this fantastic cyan blue."
Kerr lost his job in one of the worst economic crises in recent history.
But, as any bike rider understands, sometimes a detour offers a better view.
Staff writer Susan Flynn can be reached at 978-338-2658 or sflynn@salemnews.com.