Some people leave a mark on cycling not by winning races or launching products, but by shaping the hands and minds of the people who keep the entire industry moving. John Barnett was one of those people.
John passed away on December 17 at the age of 74, leaving behind a legacy that quietly touches thousands of bikes and just as many mechanics every single day.
Barnett’s Path to Cycling
Barnett’s path into cycling was anything but conventional. Long before he became synonymous with professional mechanic education, he lived a life shaped by curiosity, movement, and work that was often physical and grounded. He bounced between schools, jobs, and places, spent time in bike shops, sold flowers on street corners, and even worked on wildfire duty. Cycling wasn’t a career plan; it was something that naturally fit into a life built on hands-on problem-solving.
When he settled in Colorado in the late 1970s and later took on the role of service manager at Criterium Bicycles in Colorado Springs, the industry itself was evolving. Mountain bikes were emerging, race support was on the rise, and bike shops were learning how manage the rapidly changing equipment.
Barnett was part of that first wave of builders and mechanics helping shape early mountain bikes. Along with Criterium Bicycles owner and founder Chris Caunt, the duo mirrored what was happening at the same time in places like Northern California. But John’s most enduring contribution didn’t come from the service stand. It came from teaching.
Barnett Bicycle Institute
What started as small, off-season mechanic classes grew into the Barnett Bicycle Institute (BBI), a place that would train generations of professional and amateur mechanics. I myself went to BBI, learning from the man himself. It was the first time that I felt professional; the staff at BBI treated the job of bicycle mechanics with respect. BBI didn’t glamorize the job. It treated bike mechanics as a craft, something worth learning properly, respecting deeply, and passing on responsibly.
For many, BBI was the first place that made wrenching feel like a profession rather than just a job. Its manuals (I still have mine), courses, and philosophy became embedded in bike shops across the country. Rock stars of the industry, like the now-retired Calvin Jones of Park Tool fame, were among the schools’ advocates and students. Even now, long after the school itself has closed, its influence remains obvious in the way good shops operate, and good mechanics think.
After selling BBI in 2016, John stepped away from the industry he helped shape and leaned fully into family and personal passions. As of 2019, BBI is now closed, having changed hands a few times since the initial sale, but the legacy lives on.
Lasting Legacy of Barnett & BBI
My time at BBI was inspirational and transformative. while there, I met many like-minded people who want to build careers in cycling. I rode new trails, I learned the value of a good torque wrench (and how “one could not calibrate their arm as a torque wrench”), and harnessed skills that I still use daily.
BBI didn’t just teach you how to turn a wrench or about “mechanical advantage”; it helped you in every way to make shop labor work. Paving the way for modern service writing and procedures.
The BBI “Selling Service” book was ground breaking. It placed the mechanic and a great service department ahead of bike sales, or at least on par with them.
It laid out best practices in detail for shops to turn repairs into profits and charge a fair wage for service and labor. It was ahead of its time. Explaining everything to the T: how long a repair should/could take, and how to move from the ever-popular Walking Bird tags to computer software to track sales and turnaround time. Ground breaking stuff in the early 2000s!
Up until my last days working in a bike shop, I wore my BBI apron, and today it hangs on my wall as a proud reminder of those times.
Thanks, John Barnett, for everything. I’ll pour out a bottle of Loctite (or fako-tite, as some BBI graduates might remember) and play some Grateful Dead in your honor.
