Humility, Transparency, Irony

…Business Goals We Aim For (And Sometimes Hit)

Every business is supposed to have a ‘mission statement’. Something simple and easy to understand and to follow. Aerostich is no exception. As I’m typing this, we are on the third or fourth iteration. Our mission statement has changed over time. We started in the fall of 1993 without one. By 1998, we had one, and it was:

“To profitably provide products that encourage the adoption of motorcycling.”

By 2015, it had both expanded and narrowed at the same time:

“Aerostich creates and provides products and services that help make motorcycles, scooters, and bicycles more useful…Because riding anywhere is nearly always a comparatively more healthful, efficient, and fun way to get there.”

In June or July of 2016, it became:

“We create and provide better gear (and services) that help make riding safer, more comfortable, easier, and more useful."

We still use this, but maybe it’s time for another rewrite?

These days, it sometimes feels like something is missing. An ingredient we don’t actively consider, sort of like the DNA coding ‘blueprint’ we're all made from. Particularly when it comes to the business’s marketing narratives we create (catalogs, ads, videos, emails, all of it) and our employment practices.

Humility, Transparency, and Irony are all tightly woven into our company and people like (…analogy warning!) the fibers of the tough 500D abrasion-resistant Cordura nylon fabric used in the products we design and make.

Not that we are perfect, by any means. These ideas are goals, not accomplishments. We make as many errors as anyone, but despite them, we keep showing up for work and trying. Doing the best we can while recognizing that no matter how hard we work, or how much we try, here and there we’re gonna fall short sometimes. Humility + Transparency = an occasional apology. Humility + Irony = acceptance with good humor. Humility + Transparency + Irony = awareness... that all our problems, even the largest and most daunting, are “first world problems”. If you don’t already know what that phrase means, Google it.

Humility + Transparency + Irony = knowing and admitting that sometimes riding a motorcycle is completely ridiculous and stupid, though still always worth it. The only way I know to deal with that paradox is to grin and ride onward, simply because compared to the wonderful comforts, securities, and conveniences provided by automobiles, riding just feels more right. A lot more right. Right-er.

Riding in bad weather presents THE perfect example. It’s raining hard. The gutters are filled with runoff. Your face is stinging from oversize raindrops, or your windshield or face shield is covered with vision-distorting water. It’s a moment-by-moment struggle. When (if?) stuck in this situation, and if you are anything like me, you are giggling at the insanity of it, and of your existence. You are uncomfortable yet thrilled to be out there, battling the elements, and feeling more alive for doing so. Or you can pull over under the shelter of an overpass and wait until it lets up. And that’s ok, too. The lesson is the same. It’s ridiculous you put yourself in this situation in the first place.

In an early Aerostich print catalog, I wrote (something along these lines…):

It’s 1915. A driver in an early fully enclosed automobile/horseless carriage and a rider on a motorcycle pull up to park somewhere alongside one another at the exact same moment. It’s raining heavily. Over the thunderous roar of the falling rain, the smug driver says to the rider, “I bet you wish you had a car!” The rider smiles and replies: “No, but I sure wish it would stop raining!”

When it comes to riding motorcycles, bicycles, and scooters, I don’t think it gets any more complicated than that.

If we can’t laugh at ourselves, at least once in a while, something is wrong.

So, ride on, and as always… “Stay out of trouble, kids!”