The Bike of Theseus

There's been a lot of change in the bike industry lately – and most of it has nothing to do with technology or product. Post-COVID, many of the brands we know and love have had to re-adjust staffing levels, which is CEO jargon for laying off super-talented folks in the name of survival and shareholder happiness. This has got me wondering, if the people who’ve made a brand what it is are no longer part of that brand, is it still the same brand? A lot of this relies on the idea that the brands we love have a soul, just like the souls we project onto the bikes we ride.

Pragmatically, I know full well that bikes are no more than a collection of highly engineered mechanical systems combined to optimize performance for a specific type of riding, just like a brand is a collection of talented people brought together to turn a profit.

But the romantic in me can’t help but think about each of my bikes in terms of my history with them. The good times. The near-misses. The mud-smeared death marches. It’s the very same connection that brands tap into when you become a fan.

So, given that, I often wonder where within a bike does the soul live? Is it the frame? If so, and you break your frame and you get a new one under warranty, is it still the same bike? To some detail-oriented collectors, just the idea of a re-paint is enough to wash away a bike’s soul. To others, non-year correct tires or grips, or a build that is outside the design ethos of the original builder, is akin to sacrilege.

These musings have a parallel that scholars and philosophers have considered for centuries with the Ship of Theseus thought experiment, which says:

Over centuries of maintenance, each piece of the Ancient Greek Ship of Theseus was replaced, one after the other, ensuring it stayed sea-worthy. The conundrum begs the question of whether, after every component is replaced over hundreds of years, it is still the same ship in the end.

If you’ve been keeping up on the industry news lately, you may have noticed significant changes, and not just through “right-sizing,” a term that numbers-oriented folks use to de-humanize the concept of derailing careers in the name of profits. Some of the sport’s most iconic brands have undergone a shift in leadership, which begs the question, is swapping CEOs akin to a trip to the paint booth? Or is it a complete frame swap?

Just like in any moral quandary, it all depends on the situation and your perspective. When I read that Santa Cruz’s CEO Joe Graney stepped down, almost 10 years after the brand was purchased by PON Holdings, Theseus floated to the top of my mind. To lose someone who has been a significant influence on the brand since 2001, relatively soon after the departure of company founder Rob Roskopp, could present a challenge to a brand known for its deep roots.

I’m not privy to insider info here, but in my experience, it’s rare that someone just walks away from that kind of job 100% voluntarily, especially considering the CEO position was then given to a longtime PON insider.

So, it begs the question, with a heart and mind almost a quarter century-invested in Santa Cruz no longer making the big decisions, will this iconic brand continue to set the same industry benchmark that it has over the past 30 years? And it’s not just Santa Cruz dealing with these issues.

Just this past week, YT announced that Founder Markus Flossmann would return to become CEO after 12 years away from the post. Without any bigger picture information, all I can do is speculate but it’s not unreasonable to think that Flossmann was a crucial part of the YT ship that defined its soul, explaining his return.

Just like with the Ship of Theseus musings, there is no definitive answer. A change in leadership could seem as minor as the grips I replaced on an Inspired Fourplay I received from the estate of a dear friend who we lost a couple of years back. It was to make the bike more ridable but ultimately the change made it feel like I’d turned my back on the entire ethos of Geoff’s build.

On the other hand, having replaced something as major as a seat tube on an old Ibis Custom, to reunite it with its original fork in Switzerland for a period-correct build, I felt fulfilled, as though I’d allowed its story to live on, soul-intact.

So I wonder, with the ouster (or return) of formative personalities at some of the sport’s most influential companies, will the reputation and soul of the brands themselves be altered? Will we even care, so long as the products themselves stay rad? It’s something GT acknowledged this week, announcing a commitment to return to the IDB and Dirt roots that elevated the brand to legendary status through the 80’s and 90’s.

If history teaches us anything, we can look back at Merlin, Klein, Fisher, Bontrager, Nuke Proof, and a nearly endless list of iconic MTB brands who changed course by changing who steered the ship, and possibly changed the ship too much.

There’s rough waters still ahead and, at the very least, it’ll be interesting to see who wins the race, and if the boats that cross the line are the same ones that started the race in the first place.

Richard Belson first wrote for NSMB back in 2001, and he keeps sneaking back in every time we forget to lock the back door. A recovering bike industry wordsmith with an affinity for MTB & trials history, he’s still up for a rip on the new stuff, as long as his health insurance can keep up.