By: Staff Contributor
Sometimes the coolest things aren't found in big, shiny buildings or on fancy websites. They're right there, under your nose, unfolding on the very street you walk every day. For me, it's the scene that plays out just beyond my gate, a little slice of entrepreneurial spirit that pops up daily. It’s a group of young guys who have turned a patch of sidewalk into a bustling bike rental hub. And honestly, it’s a constant source of admiration for me.
Most afternoons, you will spot them. A small huddle of six, maybe seven on a good day, bikes propped up against each other, looking ready for an adventure. They don't have a shop, not even a proper stall. Their 'office' is literally a piece of the pavement, and their only concession to the relentless sun is a small, sometimes a bit tattered, tent they pull out. But mostly, they're just there, patiently sitting on a rock or a low curb, their eyes doing a slow sweep of the street, waiting. Waiting for young people to walk by, ready to offer a ride.
Their whole setup is refreshingly simple. Fancy a quick spin, just a trip up and down this newly paved road? That’ll set you back a mere 5 Birr. Perhaps that is just for kids; I wouldn't know because I have only tried their service for my children. It’s the kind of price that makes you just go, "Why not?" But here's the bit that really caught my eye: they haven't forgotten about folks who, let's just say, never quite mastered the art of balancing on two wheels. For only 10 birr, customers don't just get a bike; they get a personal cycling assistant for their entire ride. These trainers guide users every wobbly step of the way, making sure they don't take a tumble, all while sharing tips and tricks to get them pedaling confidently on their own. It's an incredible service, turning what could be a frustrating struggle into a moment of pure triumph.
I have been observing them for a while now, and it’s genuinely impressive. They pull in anywhere from 100 to 200 birr a day, in my estimate. Now, I get it; in the grand scheme of things, that might not sound like a fortune. But think about it: for these young men, earned through honest work and sharp thinking, that's a significant daily income. But it helps to keep their small venture going, to put food on their tables—perhaps a single meal, but still—and maybe even chip in for their families. And it's exactly this, the sheer resourcefulness of it all, that makes me respect their hustle so deeply.
Because when I think about innovation, my mind doesn't immediately jump to corporate boardrooms. No, for me, true innovation often feels far more grounded, more human. It’s about someone seeing a need, something small but real, that no one else has bothered to fix. It’s about looking at what you do have—your own skills, a bit of elbow grease, even just a willingness to try—and then figuring out a clever way to use it. Not just to benefit yourself, but to make things a little better, a little easier, for others in your community. These young men, with their modest fleet and their sidewalk classroom, embody that definition. They’re innovators in the most genuine, grassroots sense.
This scene, by the way, wasn't always a feature of our street. For a while, the road in front of my house was a patchwork of bone-jarring potholes and uneven surfaces. Not exactly prime territory for a leisurely bike ride. But then, after the road construction finally wrapped up. Suddenly, we had smooth, beautiful asphalt stretching out before us. Most of us just appreciated the easier drive and the quieter commute. But these guys? They saw something more. They didn’t just see a better road; they saw an opportunity. They didn't sit around waiting for someone else to create jobs, to hand them something. They looked at what they had—some bikes, a knack for riding, and the patience to teach—and they decided to carve out their own living.
It would have been so easy for them to just… exist. To feel sorry for their circumstances, to believe that without fancy degrees or connections, they were stuck. It would have been easy to feel small in a world that often only celebrates the loudest, flashiest achievements. But they chose a different path. They tapped into their existing skills, their street smarts, and that quiet, powerful entrepreneurial drive. Every single day, they're out there, striving, earning, and building something meaningful from what they know and what they can do. It’s a quiet act of defiance, a powerful statement in a world that often tries to box you in.
So, yeah, my hat’s off to these young folks. Their simple bike rental and teaching service is more than just a little business. It's a living, breathing reminder that innovation isn't some high-minded concept reserved for experts. It’s a powerful testament to grit, to being clever with what you have, and to the quiet, undeniable dignity of making your own way, one gentle push, one confident pedal, and one bike rental at a time.