Going into a branch of Evans often seems to me like entering a bizarre, alternate world of cycling. On Planet Evans, I have witnessed cyclists in full possession of their faculties who are unable to mend a puncture. I have been met with fearful, uncomprehending stares when I have asked for a Garmin stem mount, as if I was demanding that they unearth an Aztec goblet. Most curious of all, I recall a time when a woman said her shopping bike was making a funny noise and looked put out when the assistant correctly ascertained that her chain needed lubrication. She was displeased that the solution required her to actually buy something, as if that wasn’t the done thing in shops.
I am willing, however, to accept that in this context, as in so many others, it is me who is the anomaly. The high street’s green and gold giant has published figures from a customer survey which reveal that only six per cent of people who shop with them are members of a cycling club, and more than 60 per cent never ride with anyone else. So as a proud member of London’s blue, black and orange army who attends one club ride per week, my presence in a branch of Evans is as incongruous as a recumbent in Richmond Park. Or a recumbent just about anywhere else.
The survey shows how sensible Evans Man and Evans Women are in their purchasing choices. The most popular price bracket for a bike is £500-£1,000. Quality is their most important criteria, brand the least. And rather than spend hundreds of pounds on a Garmin, they tend to plump for app-based tracking devices. Which could explain the difficulty of getting a mount for my 810.
When you think about the extremes of high-end cycling which we have come to accept – the £12,000 custom builds, the reverence for the phony authenticity of some heritage bike brands – Evans doesn’t seem that bad. Its customers only pay for what they need. They’re not suckered in by marketing. As alien as they might sometimes seem to my needs, their shops are little oases of sanity in the mad, rapidly-expanding cycling universe.