6 wks. pt. one: HEAD

Pinned up at the little coffee stand by the studio last week was my horoscope. The timely fortune read, “Martina, get your courage up and look at your books! It’s time for you to stop avoiding a meticulous cost analysis and really fess up to the accounting side of your business.” Gulp. Fine.

I am certain that any small business venture–actually, this might be a good place to rename Swift  a ‘nano-business’–gets cold feet when they need to examine whether their passions are profitable. I’m not talking about (P)rofitable with a big p, I’m talking about (p)rofitable with a little p: as in a venture which allows the people who are involved economic stability and there-in the ability to pursue the company as a creative and cultural endeavor.

We’ll be raising our prices this year to keep the lights on at the studio and to meet the needs and health of the three of us who are hard at work. Given our current margins we won’t be a sustainable business for long. We’re simultaneously investing in toolage and technique that will streamline our work to offer our customers a realistic price for their purchases.

For so many reasons, a company like Swift Industries, and for that matter friends who are cabinet-crafters, black-smiths, farmers, record store owners, and books store proprietors, face unbelievable challenges in face of the scale of our  economic system. Sourcing materials at our scale can be challenging, and down-right limiting for those people who want to construct and craft for hobbie and fun. Market prices and our scales of economy are so blown out of proportion that the artisan is deterred from creating beautiful and practical objects simply because it costs at least double to, for example, sew a kite one’s self. When a big pannier company charges $170.00 for a set of bags the consumer is paying for a product with a significant profit margin. These companies have machines that stamp out fabric, heat-seam the textile, and purchase fabric in 25,000 roll orders, and workers who manufacture the same component day-in-and-day-out. These companies may have passionate people behind them, but to compare our endeavor to the big guys’ is like drawing a likeness between a small scale biodiverse farm and a 20,000 acre monocrop factory farm.

We’re doing it differently, and we’re doing it thanks to all of you!

6 wks. pt. two: HEART

In September, I hatched a seedling of a plan which soon became my beacon as the summer rush seamlessly folded into the holiday rush, sans pause.

This little idea? Close Swift Industries for six weeks. I know, it seems like a little feat–and you might say: she’s the boss, what’s the big deal? Well, I must be honest, it took a great deal of courage to take the time to slow way down. Infact, I will argue that slowing down is antithetical to doing business.

This year was the first in six that Jason and I didn’t do any bicycle-touring together. Damn. I was so busy sewing ten hours a day that I had no way to step out and skip town. We understand that touring season is part of cycling season, and that we’ll be committing to working while others are playing. But it dawned on me that we not only get to, but we need to, create a culture around this company which allows us to play as well. So here’s to tradition: We will be closing our doors every year to take time to rejuvinate and get our restore our creative forces. We hope the time will lend itself to touring, and certainly will commit ourselves to taking a break during the middle of the winter. This year we cooked, and slept, and went to the coast, and biked, and trained the dog to get in the trailer, and did a whole lot of creative work behind the doors at Swift Industries.

6 wks. pt. three: HANDS

I have finally had the time to refine some of our bags! Inspired by cycling with our own products and by customer feedback we have tried to tackle a few issues in the past weeks. Each of the changes is being put to work by various cyclists and we think they’ll be ready on February 1st.

The Pelican Porteur bag is out on Seattle streets in slightly new rendition being tested by commuters and experienced tourers. I have one of them on my bike and am so excited by the headway we’re making as producers and designers:

Alteration #1: We have changed the construction of the body of the bag from one piece to three pieces. I am drawing from the Ozette Rando Bag to make the Pelican more box-like and rigid. The shape of the panels of fabric, in combination with plastic inserts (easily removable and replaceable) will maintain a clean and square shape over time.

Alteration #2: The compression straps are being trained over the lid to keep straps from interfering with spokes. The reflective stripes run with the compression straps.

Alteration #3: I think we finally found the fulcrum point on this beautiful bag. I have been carrying the Pelican Porteur Bag off the bike full of books and groceries to get a feel for it’s carrying-ability. So far so good! It’s still a large 12x12x10″ bag, but it serves off bike much better with it’s new dee ring attachment points.

I’m also leaning away from making one porteur bag for multiple rack companies. Velo Orange rack owners will soon have their own Polaris Porteur Bag that fits dimensionally and attaches more accurately to the company’s rack.

The new porteur modes are being made with less PVC vinyl in an effort to move completely away from the textile in the coming years. One challenge for us is sourcing PVC free material that serves as well against NW weather in small enough quantities. If you have any thoughts or information please pass it to us! Our customers have been amazing at directing us to resources; we just need to land on the perfect option and distributer to make our dreams of being PVC free a reality.

******

The Short Stack and Mini Short Stack models are enjoying our attention too right now. I have extended the skirt on the top pocket all the way around the lid to protect from the weather. We’ve added a velcro tab to draw the lid closer to the back edge as well, and in the past three weeks of wet riding the design changes are proving themselves very well.

We’re always working to make our bags as water resistant as possible. We don’t have the infrastructure to heat-weld our seams, and sewing causes perforations in the materials. We’re working on ideas to make the bags more efficient. We wish we could guarantee waterproofing, but it’s just not in our range. Apologies!

A few updates on textiles:

We’ve changed the waxed canvas we’re using to a more durable (and heavier) weave and have expanded the color choices to field tan and charcoal canvas for all models.

We have new Cordura options too. You can now choose burgundy, mandarin, rust, and mint green as your body colors!

2012 is going to amazing. We hope that the year brings you all amazing adventures and great stories! Please send them our way.

From the whole team at Swift:

Thanks for all your support and enthusiasm! You make it possible for us to do what we love for a living, hone our skills, and challenge ourselves as designers & cyclists.

You’ll save $30.00 by purchasing the rack and the Ozette XL together at http://brazedandstitched.wordpress.com

ENDS JANUARY 21st!

Haulin’ Colin’s masterpiece

About the Rack:

Measurements: 12″ wide X 10″ deep.

This is the only non-adjustable rack built specifically to fit the rSogn’s specially placed fork braze-ons.  It is constructed of 3/8″ x .035″ 4130 chromoly tube.  All joints are fillet brazed.  It is finished with a professional satin black powder coat.

The rack has many of the standard porteur rack features, including bent lightweight tubing construction, a backstop, a M6 threaded stud for mounting a Schmidt eDelux, B&M Cyo, or similar light on the right leg, and a M5 fender mount on the center strut angled to directly face the axle.

There are also a few novel features:

• Radiating the central rails from the crown mount stiffens the platform without requiring additional stays or Kogswell-style mounts on the shoulders of the crown.
• “Breezer-style” counterbored screw mounting points are stiffer than typical plate tabs.
• Bending the rear corners acutely and offsetting the backstop to the rear makes it possible for the bag to rest on the rear rails — normally the backstop keeps the bag from ever being supported along its back edge.This is a lifesaver when you’re using a bag smaller than the full platform:

Readers of the Rawland Cycle Owners’ Google Group will be familiar with a recent design change.  The backstop will now be integrated with the V-shaped center rail assembly, allowing it to move back about an inch.  The whole platform moves an inch back with it, maintaining the 10″ deep dimension.  This change puts the bag as close in to the head tube as possible.  The pictures here were taken with a rack from the first batch, but you can see a picture of the new prototype here and here.

Swift Industries Contribution

Measurements: 12″w X 10″d X 9″tall

The Swift Industries’ Ozette XL is a randonneur-inspired front bag designed specifically to accompany Haulin’ Colin’s rSogn front rack. rSogn owners may choose either an elegant charcoal waxed canvas bag with black thread and trim, or a durable and well-matched black Cordura bag with burgundy front and rear pockets (the weight saver).

Three pockets with overlapping flaps offer access to your personals (wallet, phone, lipstick tube, blackberry, tire levers, 3-d glasses etc). The side panels offer a flat pocket and built-in dee rings. Each Ozette XL comes with vinyl lining and a clear map case which measures 12″ X 9″. Cyclists enjoy Swift’s simple eyelet & hook closure system on all external pockets, and the internal wings which deter water from entering the bag in blustery weather. The Ozette XL opens from the rider out so you never need to dismount your rSogn again. The bag maintains it rigidity with removable coroplast inserts.

How does the Ozette XL attach to Haulin’ Colin’s rack?

The Ozette XL matches the footprint of the platform perfectly. Three velcro tabs prevent the bag from moving laterally on the rack (1. front middle, 2. left side, 3. right side) , while held steady by the vertical back-stop on the rack.

    head to flickr for more photos!

TO PURCHASE HEAD TO http://brazedandstitched.wordpress.com

xoxo

Swift Industries

Donate now!

Over the years Swift Industries has sponsored projects, rides, and races, committed to positive environmental and social change. We are inspired and down-right proud to be sponsoring the second annual Alleycat Acres benefit ride “Streets and Beets.” First and foremost we are supporting Alleycat Acres because they organize urban food production right here in our community. Beyond their commitment to our city and our neighborhoods, the folks at Alleycat Acres have integrated the bicycle into many aspects of their identity and work as an urban farm collective.

Here’s what they have to say about themselves!

“By farming the cityscape, we are helping to create solutions that address a number of issues facing our communities. Our urban farms lay the groundwork to enable anyone to join in the process of what we refer to as Farming 2.0: cultivating food, relationships, and a connection to our land in an urban setting.

Food is more than what we eat: it’s a medium through which we can forge intimate, meaningful relationships between people and place. Farming is a medium that reconnects us, both mentally and physically, to our surroundings. Our entire operation is based on the collective belief that urban food systems are key in creating healthy communities.

In an era where the automobile is king, we opt to use bikes as our mode of transportation. By challenging the existing paradigms around food production and transportation, we are creating alternative methods to show just how much can be accomplished when we collectively roll up our sleeves and work side by side.

Together, we can plant seeds of change.”

The event is the second annual Streets and Beets bicycle ride. On March 3rd, the fully supported ride will cover 70 miles beginning right in the heart of Seattle, and includes amazing food stops along the way. Each cyclist who signs on commits to raising at minimum $100.00 for Alleycat Acres.

How Swift is getting involved:

Swift Industries is supporting Alleycat Acres by offering a beautiful set of Roll Top Panniers to the individual who recruits the most riders to participate in the event!

Help us make money! We’re passing up NAHBS (North American Handbuilt Bike Show) to take the opportunity to fundraise and cycle along with everyone else. If you are totally into the cause and can’t pedal with us please contribute $5.00 to our fundraising campaign by clicking on Crowdrise.

Further, participants in the ride will receive coupons for Swift goodies at the Bicycle Expo the weekend after the event.

OR better yet sign up to pedal and raise money for the event and drop our name to help us win our own panniers. Or just some street cred, really.

http://www.alleycatacres.com/

http://streetsandbeets.wordpress.com/

http://www.crowdrise.com/team2012/fundraiser/SwiftIndustries

Ten years ago my car died in the Arizona desert. It was a fateful day for more reasons than I could imagine. I was a student at a California State University dabbling in all sorts of topics and departments–well, floundering may be the better adjective–and in youthful spirit trying to find my place in the world. My classes offered no substance, no hook and line, nothing that connected the class material to the unexplored world around me. Having been raised in a highly creative and alternative early education program I was yearning for something I could feel, understand, and connect to–the meat and potatoes if you will. I decided to take a road trip to Prescott College in Arizona thinking that perhaps a change in environment was in order. And then, in 98 degree heat on a detour to some hokey tourist cavern attraction my volvo came to a fizzling, popping, dying halt.

Nothing lives in a vacuum. Circumstances line up and out of seemingly unhinged events sometimes there is an ‘aha’ moment. A suspended second, or day, or breath where things line up. Car breaks: the War on Terror is declared: kid in bike shop is of no help: barely pass chemistry: introduced to the Campus Center for Alternative Technology. Young minds are impressionable. My interpretation of the circumstances: fix bike myself, drop out of school, go traveling, and dedicate myself to the anti-war effort.

I had some work to do in order to achieve my new goals. Dropping out of school wasn’t quite as easy as I had thought. There was still my German mother to convince, and I had seldom held a wrench in my hand. In learning basic bicycle mechanics and slowly becoming obsessed with my (far too small) Bianchi, the machine gained mechanical meaning as well as the personal social and environmental symbolism which persists today. For one, women don’t really work on their bikes. That’s what I learned. No, really. I wish it a falsity, but the terrible truth is that most cyclists and especially female cyclists relegate mechanical tuning and upkeep to professionals most of whom are men. So it felt sassy and courageous to take up bicycle mechanics, my sly punch-in-the-face of patriarchy.

I learned to ride my bike to school and to the grocery store. Cars are a hard habit to crack, but it didn’t take too long or too many uncomfortable adjustments to my lifestyle to gracefully manage daily undertakings by bike. It was very easy to draw connections between my love for sustainable agriculture (I was certain to be a farmer then), and alternative transportation: food miles, oil use, synthetic nitrogen, community supported agriculture, local food sheds, eating seasonally. Within the puzzling solution to great questions of consumerism, subsidies, fuel use, and agribusiness, bicycles just seemed to match.

It’s ironic that now I make bicycle panniers. The first tour I took was down the California coast with milk crates wired on to the sides of my bike rack. Aerodynamic, NO. Resourceful, YES. I had smoked half a pack of cigarettes a day for 5 years and my lungs were in haggard shape. I remember the day on that bike tour that I realized my legs and lungs were strengthening. One brutal hill after the other forced my body to begin mending. It felt terrible!

Our bike tour ended in San Francisco and our group was joyously swallowed by Critical Mass. In the months following the declaration of war in Iraq, thousands of cyclists with the same passion for promoting peace through bicycles took to the streets making Critical Mass a monthly anti-war procession. I remember watching the ribbon of bikes extend miles down Market Street. I had been born and raised in San Francisco and was to rediscover my home city at the age of 20. What had previously been a city sensed mostly by Muni and walking now became a metropolitan experience enhanced by cycling. Perhaps you can help me identify what changes when one moves through a city by bicycle–perhaps one’s heightened sense of awareness as you contend with drivers, and busses, sirens, and hookers, help magnify sensations. I find myself attuned to sound color and smell in significant ways. Maybe the simple act of moving my body and pushing my physical boundaries is what heightens my senses. In any case, my bicycle proved a provocative tour guide in a city I claimed to understand as my nature and nurture.

For the past ten years I have wittingly and unwittingly forged my identity around bicycles. While my paths have changed and my routes carry me less to punk shows at 2 a.m. and more often to my precious studio at responsible hours of the morning, and while I curse with more dignified selectiveness at drivers that piss me off than in my younger days–I still find endless joy in my bicycle, and a solid and perplexing commitment to the symbolism which welded me to the simple machine at the beginning of our relationship. I wonder at the long-standing relationship I’ve had with cycling. I never would have guessed. Never would have thought that I’d be riding a 16 mile commute to work because it inspires me, couldn’t have imagined I’d meet my quirky husband fixing bikes, didn’t have the slightest notion that I’d spend this many hours training my skittish dog to get into a bike trailer, hadn’t a clue that my dream would be to run a pannier company.

If I’m lucky, I’ll one day write my autobiography from the perspective of my bicycles.

Fow now, here’s Russ’ post to get the wheels turning:

PathlessPedaled.com

How Losing My Car Saved My Life

By Russ | November 6, 2011

It will surprise some readers to know that, in a not too distant past, before Path Less Pedaled, before Epicurean Cyclist, and before I was the bicycling photographer of Long Beach, I didn’t ride bikes, buses or trains. It’s almost embarrassing to admit, especially to our very astute bikey readers, but these things barely registered on my radar. I only relay these not-so-pretty details now to hopefully show others what is possible… just because you have one lifestyle now, doesn’t mean you are doomed to live it until the very end.

So yes, dear readers, I drove and drove a lot. I was younger, freshly graduated from college, subsisting on the poor man’s diet of hotdogs and a pack of cigarettes a day. I was working as a graphic designer. Most of my day was spent sitting in front a computer, pushing a mouse around. The rest of it was spent sitting in traffic. Lots of it. This was Los Angeles, the sort of place where you could fill a whole evening’s conversation with the question, “so what freeways did you take to get here?”

My life, in short, was fairly typical for a Los Angelean. I had resigned myself to commuting about 35 miles one way from Long Beach to Culver City. A childhood of sitting in the back of a car to go everywhere conditioned me to believe that there was just no other option. So, as an adult, I merely accepted my fate. This is what people do. On an average day, my commute took 45 minutes in one direction. On a hellish day, it could be upwards of an hour and a half to two hours in ONE direction. I did this for a couple of years and shudder now to think of all the time I’ve lost staring at someone’s brake lights in front of me. But at that point of my life, I didn’t know there was any other way.

One fateful evening, I was driving back from the San Fernando Valley after visiting my family. I was on the 405 and was near the Getty Center, perched up on the hill. I wasn’t quite over the Sepulveda Pass when my truck made the most god-awful racket I had ever heard come from a car. It sounded like ten rabid monkeys with wrenches were banging from the inside of the engine, trying to break free. I merged to the exit lane and pulled over on the surface street, wondering what to do. I was no mechanic, but from the sound the truck was making, I knew it was toast. Little did I know that night would change my life.

I was faced with the decision of whether I should fix or replace the truck. Fortunately, at that point of my career, I was still doing graphic design, but had taken a job where I was telecommuting to a firm in the Bay Area. For the first time, in all my years, I envisioned life without a car. It was simultaneously exciting and frightening. Although I didn’t actually have to drive to work anymore, how would I get to everywhere else? How would I do groceries? Go out? Buy stuff? See my friends? Would I just wither away in solitude with my hotdogs and cigarettes?

The whole undertaking was so daunting. I felt helpless and vulnerable. I didn’t know anyone that didn’t own a car. You see, to not have a car in Los Angeles meant one of two things: 1) you were destitute and couldn’t afford one, otherwise why would you do without? or 2) you had a DUI and had your license taken away. To be categorized as either was far from flattering.

And yet, I knew in my heart of hearts that I didn’t really want a car anymore. All those endless hours I spent sitting in traffic had sucked any fun out of driving. A car, for me, wasn’t a symbol of freedom but one of servitude. But I also had no clue how to get around without one. To keep my sanity, I decided to frame everything as an “experiment.” I was going to do a self-study to see how I could get along in Los Angeles without an automobile. By doing a little creative distancing, I gave myself the permission to try to live without a car without viewing myself as a failure. Whenever someone would ask, I would tell them that I was just “conducting a little experiment.” It gave me an out. I didn’t declare that I was going to be carfree ad infinitum on that first day, I was just testing the waters.

At first, things were hard. Instead of walking thirty feet to sit down again and magically transport myself to the supermarket, I had to walk. A lot. Things were not automatic or easy or convenient. I head to learn how to read bus schedules and figure out how to get around town. I know it sounds silly to say this all now, because it’s so second nature, but back then it was new, unexplored territory. In the process of all the walking, I also became more aware of my body, or more specifically, how unhealthy I had become. I could feel my lungs strain and hurt at the little exercise I was getting, and it scared me. Even then, I was aware of how precious and unique life was and how fortunate I was to be alive in the United States with all my body parts functioning. So about a week before September 11th, I quit smoking and started eating healthier. I only remember this because there was nothing more that I wanted to do than light up after watching the towers fall.

It was hard, but I kept at it. At this point, I still hadn’t discovered the bicycle. On a whim, I borrowed my neighbor’s rollerblades and was instantly hooked. Something about the speed and the balance and the feeling like you were gliding across the ground was invigorating. If you talked to my old neighbors now, they’d probably vaguely remember some slightly overweight asian kid skating around the block hundreds of times a day hacking up phlegm. It wasn’t pretty, but I didn’t care. It was the first time in a long time that I felt alive, that I was fully present, mentally and physically. In about a month, I got my own pair of inline skates. Two months later, I had a pair of carbon fiber speed skates. Soon after, I signed up to skate the Long Beach Marathon and, a few months after that, I flew to Tahiti to skate an inline marathon there (that’s a strange tale of its own).

It was around this physical awakening that I experienced an occupational one as well. I was less and less satisfied with being a design monkey, spending hours a day pushing a mouse and tapping keys. So I started delving into photography. It had the same things I liked about design – dealing with visual aesthetics, balance, color, composition – but it happened in real time in the REAL physical world. I bought cameras (everything from 35mm to 4×5 sheet film) and built a darkroom with the new-found cash I had from not owning a car. This was another big revelation. I could afford the toys I wanted because I was no longer paying for gas, parking tickets, insurance, repairs, etc. I don’t think I could have indulged my photography hobby (which eventually became my next career) if I had a car. While I did design during the day, my nights were spent making a mess in the bathroom trying to teach myself how to develop film and make prints.

As I got more serious with photography, I was learning that skating around with several thousand dollars of camera gear on your back was not very prudent. So, on another whim, I borrowed a neighbor’s bike (a different neighbor). I had that same giddy feeling I had when I first hopped on skates, except this time it was different. It just felt right. It was more efficient. Not to say that it was easy. I had to relearn how to ride a bike. I hadn’t ridden since I was a kid and, back then, I only rode on the sidewalk. So I did some research and found that I could ride in the street, and I essentially went about the work of teaching myself how to commute by bike. I had no mentors, just bicycle forums. Back then, bike commuting blogs were few and far between, so learning was slow.

I spent most of my early months riding around the block (my neighbors must have thought I was nuts), then mostly on the bike path going back and forth. Just like with the rollerblades, within a month I bought my own bike at a flea market. Of course, I knew nothing about bikes and bought it solely on its looks. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that the bike that got me so excited was a bright yellow Schwinn Varsity. Perhaps the heaviest bike known to man. And it was too big. But what did I know about bikes? I just knew I wanted to ride one, so I bought it.

At that point, I wasn’t the bike aficionado I am today. I didn’t know my bike sucked. I just rode it everywhere. It was the first bike I rode over 20 miles on. I’d walk it proudly into bike shops as I shopped for accessories, not knowing at the time that I was probably getting pegged as a clown or Fred. That is why I have a special place in my heart for people that are riding the “wrong” bike – because I’ve been there! And I know that, if someone had said something disparaging and crushed my enthusiasm at that early stage of cycling, I could have thrown in the towel. Today, I bristle when I see the snobbishness that some bicyclists and bike shops have toward beginning commuters. We’re so often unaware of what those fleeting sleights will do, what butterfly effect they could have on someone’s future love or hate for bicycling.

Needless to say, I discovered panniers at some point, and that was another revelation. Not only could I get somewhere with my bicycle, but I could bring things with me. It felt fun and subversive to be able to do everything I could do with my car with a bicycle. I was hooked. In the following years, I would experiment with everything from a Bike Friday to a fixed gear, a three speed, a Trek 520, an Xtracycle, a trailer, Bilenky cargo bike, etc. I met Laura in this transitional period of mine, and she too started bike commuting, and we both discovered bike touring together.

At some point, my “experiment” with getting around in Los Angeles without a car had ended, and my life as a car-free bicyclist began. I don’t remember exactly when that was, but I do remember the feeling I had when I knew that I would no longer own a car any more, and it wasn’t dread and it wasn’t fear – it was relief. I felt free from a system that I thought was inescapable. I had liberated myself from an entire matrix of seductive commercials, glossy ads, high payments, predatory loans, parking tickets, insurance payments, maintenance, worrying if the mechanic who was only suppose to be changing my oil wasn’t doing something else as well. In short, in one fell swoop I had cut out a giant chunk of human stress and expense by opting out of the car and everything it involved.

The longer I went without driving, the stranger I found how the car – this assemblage of nuts and bolts and metal – could have such strong power over us. It defines our politics, it shapes our cities, it determines how we interact and how we view ourselves. All that for just a few pieces of metal and rubber, put together in a certain fashion.

I read a post recently on an automobile blog that stated, in semi-horror, that Millennials (the 20-30 somethings of today) no longer view the automobile as a symbol of independence and freedom, but as just an appliance. But hasn’t it always just been an appliance? And why would that somehow be an insult? I love my bikes, but I see them as tools and appliances as well.

So that is my origin story as a cyclist. I was not born a cyclist. I came to it late in life. There was nothing in my childhood that would have predicted that I would grow up to love bikes. In fact, by all accounts, I should be just another stuck car on the 405 (main arterial freeway in Los Angeles). But one fateful evening, my car died. It felt like a bit of a tragedy at the time, but little did I know that a better life was in store and finally beginning.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

What’s still available?

Swift Industries Wool Jerseys

Gifted Holiday Special Packages

Fanny Packs

Mini Mechanic Tool Pouches

Stock Panniers and bags found on Cycle Swift

Thank you to everyone who has shown your support and brought us business! You make our dream of living by our craft a reality.

Further: Swift Industries will be CLOSED  from January 1st to February 1st, 2012.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL OF YA’LL

Each set has been crafted with utmost care and keen attention to aesthetics and design.

Bypass the six-week wait by ordering your Swift Industries’ bags here. We’ll ship them out within two working days!

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$200.00/set ROLL TOP PANNIERS

Black Body

Black Thread

Black Trim

Neon Green Rear Pockets

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SOLD!

$235.00 a bag Field Tan Waxed Canvas Large Ozette

Body: Field Tan Waxed Canvas

Thread: Brown

Trim: Brown

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$150 a bag Pelican Porteur Bag for Cetma Rack

Body: Black

Thread: Black

Trim: Black

Reflective Stripe: Silver

Front pocket: Red

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**For more photos of these products voyage HERE

***For specific dimensions and specs kindly navigate HERE