Friday, May 1, 2015

BSNYC No Friday Fun Quiz Only Relentless Self Promotion!

Well, it's here, and I'm finally heading down to Bike Expo New York today:

[Draws deep breath.]

Now for the last time, let's run though the schedule, and keep in mind that after today you won't have to hear any of this again:

Today, Friday May 1st, I'll be at the Walz booth from 12-2pm.  Walz will have free limited edition BSNYC caps for the first 12 people who stop by.  (Offer only good while I'm there, though I'm not sure what happens if you stop by while I'm using the bathroom.)  I'll be the guy with a Brompton, and if you want you can time me while I fold it.  (No, I will not have the Brompton in the bathroom.  Under no circumstances should you bother me in the bathroom.)

Early tomorrow morning (Saturday May 2nd): Sub-epic road-with-a-little-dirt ride!  If you're interested just email bikesnobnyc (at) yahoo (dot) com with the subject line "I WANT TO GO ON THE SUPER-SECRET EARLY MORNING RIDE!!!" and I'll send you details.  (No, you don't need a special gravel bike.)  Don't wait too long to RSVP though, because at a certain point this evening I'm going to stop checking my email.  The ride will be about two hours at a civilized pace, and we'll finish at Indian Road Cafe where we'll connect with...

Tomorrow mid-morning: Meet me at Indian Road Cafe in Inwood at 10am, and from there we'll ride down to the Expo.  (No RSVP necessary.)

Tomorrow 12-2pm: I'll be back at the Walz booth, where once again they'll have free caps for the first 12 people who show up while I'm there.

12:01pm-?: I fall asleep in the nearest bakfiets.

Oh, I should also mention I'll have some free "Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" caps to give away on those Saturday rides:

You're more than welcome to the cat as well.

Finally, if you somehow fail to obtain a free cap at any point during the next two days (I think there is a total of 36 caps available), you can obviously purchase one from Walz at their booth:

You can also purchase a jersey, and if they don't have one at the booth you can order one and they'll cover the shipping:

They'll even happily bundle any of their wares with one of my books, which I'll totally sign for you, or else refrain from signing if you want to obtain an alternate signature from someone more interesting, like David Byrne or the Assos Guy:

Finally, you'll get half off any Walz cap with purchase of a BSNYC cap.

Hopefully I'll see some of you over the next couple of days, and presumably you'll be drunk with bargains.


Alas, unfortunately for you, this flurry of activity will preclude my administering a quiz this week.  However, if it's any consolation, not only will there be a quiz next week, but there will be a special bonus question that will earn one lucky winner a prize, courtesy of esteemed sponsor Classic Cycle:

That's right, I'm taking this blog to the next level--in other words, one notch above mediocrity.

Finally, it occurred to me yesterday that, if I'm going to be riding with people on Saturday morning for two hours, I should make sure I'm in fact capable of riding a bike for two hours--hardly a given now that I'm the father of eighteen (18) children.  So I headed out into the verdant springitude, and it was such a beautiful day that before I knew it I'd ridden for twice as many hours as I'd intended:

Naturally, I was on my new bike:

The bike had come to me with Panaracer "RiBMo" tires on it.  I had no complaints, it rode beautifully.  However, my favorite tire in recent years has been the Panaracer Pasela, so I slapped a pair on there before heading out.  After spending the afternoon on the bike I'd say that yes, the bike feels even better now.  Sure, some of the effect could be psychological, but as a doctor once told me, "If you feel better what's the difference?"

The ride was just the right balance of trail and rolling country-ish roads:

And I can assure you that I did not spraypaint the horse dong on this sign:

Though I doff my Walz cap to whomever did.

Thanks for reading, ride safe, and hopefully I'll see you at the Expo.

--Wildcat Rock Machine

Thursday, April 30, 2015

The Future: Car-Free Paradise or Dystopia of Smugness?

What day is it, Thursday?


I know I keep repeating myself, but it is recumbent upon me to remind you once again I'll be at the Bike Expo New York and leading a ride to the Bike Expo New York and an early morning ride before the Bike Expo New York and Bike Expo New York:

(Bike Expo New York.)

Here's the abridged version of my schedule:

Friday, May 1st:

Walz booth at Bike Expo from 12-2pm (free caps!)

Saturday, May 2nd:

1) Early morning sub-epic two-hour road ride with token dirt sections, 7:30am extreme uptown start, email me at bikesnobnyc [at] yahoo [dot] com with the subject line "I WANT TO GO ON THE SUPER-SECRET EARLY MORNING RIDE!!!" and I'll give you the details (free caps!);

2) Mid-morning ride to Bike Expo, meet at Indian Road Cafe in Inwood at 10am (free caps!), no emailing necessary, just show up;

3) Walz booth at Bike Expo from 12-2pm (free caps!).

4) 2:01pm, I start drinking.

For those of you who have already emailed to RSVP for the early morning ride, you should have received details from me by now, so if you haven't let me know.

[Oh, and as for the BSNYC Gran Fondon't on May 17th, figure it will be about double the early morning sub-epic, and it will finish up someplace where they have beer.]

Thanks for bearing with me during all this plugging.

In other news, recently I discussed my feelings regarding the Automotive Industrial Complex's conspiracy to crush the soul of America's youth through excessive helme(n)ting:

("This magic hat is the only thing that can keep you from dying.")

Well, for some reason I'm on the Hatzolah mailing list.  I don't know if it's because I've booked passage to Israel in my lifetime, or because I used to live adjacent to Boro Park, or simply because my wife had a baby inside a hospital recently and when that happens you get solicitations from everybody because they know there's now a new consumer on the planet.  Whatever the reason, I'm pleased to announce that recently I received this lavish and exclusive catalog for their upcoming auction event:

By the way, if you don't know what Hatzolah is, it's basically the Jewish volunteer ambulance service, and they're the ones who will burst into your dining room if you plotz at the dinner table:

("Jew down, Jew down!!!")

Anyway, I only mention all of this because this awesome door prize for kids caught my eye and it made me think of the Helmetization of America:

I will now make all of my 18 (eighteen) children wear a helment and carry the complete Hatzolah emergency bicycling kit at all times.

You never know when junior's going to need a stethoscope in order to diagnose a rear hub pawl issue or a congenital heart defect.

Then again, now that I think about it, I'll probably withhold the megaphone.  The last think you want to give a kid is anything that amplifies sound.  I'd sooner give a kid a box of strike anywhere matches than a megaphone.

Moving on to international matters, here's an interesting article in the Guardian about how cars are like totally over:

Are you familiar with GG Allin?  If not, he was a "musician" of sorts, and he was basically the Jimi Hendrix of making doody on the stage and then attacking the audience with it.  Anyway, regarding his act--which was not exactly crowd-pleasing--GG Allin had this to say:

"With GG, you don't get what you expect—you get what you deserve."

Whenever getting around in New York City feels like a giant shitshow to me (which is a good portion of the time), this quote always pops into my head.  After all, whether you're walking, or cycling, or using public transportation, or even driving, are there not many, many occasions when you feel like you just took a fistful of GG Allin's feces to the face?  And is this not because millions and millions of people a day are making lousy, selfish decisions?

So when it comes to getting around in New York City, I always think to myself, "We don't get the city we expect--we get what we deserve."

This is why I was pleasantly surprised to read the following quote in the article:

I suggest to her that not all cyclists behave well – I am thinking of the ones I see in London who whizz along pavements and go in the wrong direction down one-way streets – but she has a good answer. “Cities get the cyclists they deserve. If you have good infrastructure, you will get good cyclists. It’s the same with drivers and pedestrians.”

I suspect she didn't have GG Allin in mind, but it was validating to know there's a city official in Helsinki who feels the same way as I do.

On balance, I found the entire article really interesting, though I could have done without the very last sentence, which sort of cheapened it.

Speaking of a smug, car-free future, here's a Kickstarter from Sweden for a "child bike seat and stroller in one:"

I have to say this is a pretty good idea, though I'm not sure about the Hannibal-Lecter-on-a-handtruck child position:


("What, no helment?!?")

By the way, if you get the special director's cut edition of "Silence of the Lambs," you'll notice some subtle differences.  To wit:

I want to thank Brian K. for sendingthat easily cutted-and-pasted version of Nonplussed Bib Short Guy.

It's about time someone started pulling their weight around here.

Anyway, as someone who has been known to get multi-modal, I applaud the bike seat-cum-stroller (oh, grow up), Lecteresque position notwitstanding:

("What, no helment?!?")

And while we're looking at Kickstarters, here's a "video based warning system for cyclists:"

The inventor is an aerospace engineer, and here's a picture of him next to a diagram of a thingy so you know he's serious:

(A thingy.)

Basically, the way it works is that the Fred or Frederica mounts his or her smartphone onto his or her Fred(erica) Chariot:

The "app" locks onto the target:

And then relays the coordinates to the nearest submarine or battleship which then launches a Tomahawk missile at it:

Note that there is no collateral damage, because the missile merely roughens the road surface in order to discourage the driver from following too closely.

Just kidding.  It doesn't fire a missile.  It records a video that the police will subsequently ignore.

Still, could be useful if it works--though it does raise the following question:

"What if you get overtaken by a Cat 6 Attack Fred, will it record him too?"

Causing a fellow cyclist to crash and then riding away?

Now that's what I call "vehicular cycling."

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Wednesday: Folding Edition!

Here's your five-hundred-and-umpteenth reminder about my presence at the Bike Expo New York:

Friday, May 1st and Saturday, May 2nd I'll be at the Walz booth from 12-2pm.  The first 12 visitors on each day will receive a free limited edition cap.

Also, on Saturday, if you want to join me for a ride down to the Expo let's meet at Indian Road Cafe in Inwood at 10am.  (That's the Inwood in Manhattan, not the other one.)  I'll have some free caps there as well.  You buy your own coffee, cheapskates.

Finally, I also plan to squeeze in an early stretchy-clothes ride on Saturday morning, so if you're up for a couple of hours north of the city just email me at bikesnobnyc [at] yahoo [dot] com with the subject line "I WANT TO GO ON THE SUPER-SECRET EARLY MORNING RIDE!!!" and I'll give you the details.  Of course, bike dorks need a lot of hand-holding, and I realize you need to know everything about a ride, right down to what tire size and pressure is appropriate.  Therefore, this should give you a sense of what I've got in mind:

START TIME: Probably 7:30am, no later than 8:00am;
MEETING PLACE: Uptown.  Way uptown;
DISTANCE: Sub-epic;
DURATION: 2-ish hours;
TERRAIN: Mostly pavement, possibly some dirt, nothing a competent rider can't handle on a road bike but feel free to rush-order that custom gravel bike if you want;
PACE: Middle-aged bike blogger with a new baby at home and probably wearing a backpack with free Walz caps and a change of clothes in it;
ELEVATION: It's possible we may encounter a short climb or two, but you have to promise to wait for me at the top;
ENDING PLACE: Indian Road Cafe, where anyone who wants to can continue on down to the Expo with me, or not, up to you.

I've gotten a small handful of RSVPs so far and would happily welcome more.  Lastly, don't be shy, I have no intention of taking a bunch of pictures on these rides and then making fun of people on the Internet.  Seriously.  In fact, if anything I encourage you to take pictures and mock me on the Internet.

And if we see any goofy-looking strangers we can mock them together.

In other news, recently I found myself perusing New York City's motor vehicle crash statistics.  As far as I can tell, the data contained therein goes back to July of 2012.  Now, over the past three years, can you guess how many motor vehicle collisions were ostensibly caused by defective accelerators?

Well, if you guessed 259 then you're correct!

(You win nothing, get over it.)

Now, is it just me, or is that fucking crazy?  It seems to me either a whole lot of people are lying, or else we should expect some sort of massive recall in the immediate future.  (Hint: it's the first thing, people are full of shit.) In fact, if there are this many defective accelerators in New York City alone then we're well beyond recalls and there should be mandatory accelerator inspection checkpoints every 100 yards everywhere in the United States (a.k.a. Canada's defective accelerator pedal).  

I'm fairly certain though that "Accelerator Defective" is merely NYPD shorthand for when the motorist says, "I mistook the gas for the brake," which is an acceptable excuse for crashing your car in virtually any circumstance--though if you crash your car into another human being you might want to go with "The [pedestrian/cyclist/child/elderly person/Cub Scout troop/parade float/one man band on Rollerblades] came out of nowhere" instead, just to be on the safe side.

Oh, by the way, the number of motor vehicle collisions caused by "Aggressive Driving/Road Rage" during the same period appears to be 1,745.

One thousand seven hundred forty-five!

How the fuck is driving even still legal in New York City?  At the very least in order to hold a drivers license you should be subjected to mandatory psychological counseling every six months.  AAA, the auto industry, and the oil companies can pay for it.

Just kidding, the only reasonable response to motor vehicular violence is to make children wear helments:

("That's right, go to sleep, little girl, go to sleep...")

Then, when they grow up, if they insist on continuing to ride bikes, ticket the fuck outta them.

But let's move on to happier matters--well, happier for me, anyway.  Awhile back I mentioned I met with the good people at Brompton (did you know that to work for Brompton you need to be able to fold yourself into thirds, just like the bikes?), and that they promised me a loaner.  Well, yesterday they made good on that promise, and so I went to Red Beard Bikes in Brooklyn to pick it up:

(Brooklyn: always with the beards.)

Upon my arrival, I gazed upon their formidable Wailing Wall of Bikes:

And found myself inexorably drawn to the Lynskeys, what with their titanium tubes, standard headsets, and threaded bottom bracket shells:

If I hadn't just taken delivery of a new bicycle I might have gotten myself into some trouble.

In addition to a titillating array of go-fast bikes Red Beard also carries wares from Brooks and Brompton, and before long the proprietor, Ilya, emerged with my loaner bike, which he patiently taught me how to furl and unfurl.  

Unlike this person, it didn't take me long at all to get the hang of it:

Indeed the first thing I learned about Bromptons is that if someone shows you how they work they're ingeniously simple and very easy to use, but if someone just handed you one and walked away you'd never figure it out in a million years.  This is because there's some Hogwarts shit going on at the Brompton factory.  How else do you explain why the bike won't fold if you touch the handlebars?

Anyway, I didn't take pictures of any of that because I didn't know how Ilya would feel about my sticking a smartphone in his face while he explained the bike to me, but here it is later that night as I headed home:

Note that Ilya also outfitted me with this smart matching Brompton (by Ortlieb) bag, which snaps right onto a bracket on the headtube, and which I moronically photographed in front of a black background:

However, here's what the bag would look like if I were a good photographer, I'd taken the photo during the day, and the bike were under a fashionably-attired rider instead of leaning against a brick wall under the BQE:

Regardless, I had my bike and my bag and it was time to get home.

Shit was about to get multi-modal.

It seemed to me that the most fitting way to travel home with the Brompton was via Metro North, since folding bikes and commuter trains go together like mountain bikes and Subarus, or like NJS track bikes and the wall because their owners never ride them and they're out of style anyway.  Plus, the ride from Brooklyn to Grand Central would afford me plenty of time to test the bike in city traffic.  So I headed over the Manhattan Bridge, where I refrained from Cat 6 action photography but did take this static photo with the Empire State Building in the background:

This particular bike is equipped with a two-speed shifter, and the gears are basically "bridge incline" and "everything else"--which, as it happens, is ideal New York City gearing.  Indeed, the bike immediately proved itself to be a quick and nimble traffic-dodger, and before I knew it I'd reached Grand Central:

Where I nodded at one of my fellow "clownies:"

And where the lighting allowed me to photograph the bike's finish in more detail.  Here's the Obligatory Bottom Bracket Shot (which also includes most of the rest of the bike because it's tiny):

Here's the headtube where the bag attaches (the bag is independent of the handlebars so it doesn't affect the handling):

And here's the two-speed shifter, which I'm kind of in love with, because changing gears is like throwing a light switch:

Next I headed onto the main concourse, where I encountered your typical suburban commuters:

And then I headed down to the dining concourse for a late supper before my train's departure:

As I ate, the Brompton waited patiently at my side like an obedient terrier*:

*(Just kidding, terriers aren't obedient.)

Having folded the bike a few times by now I'd come to appreciate just how much better the design is than that of the 20-inch folding bike I'd previously been using.  Not only does the Brompton reduce itself to a very manageable size, but once it's folded it's folded, and then you just grab it by the saddle nose and go.  The 20-inch bike on the other hand depended on some rubber strap to stay shut, and if I wasn't careful it would pop open and thwack me in the shins.

Finally, once I'd finished gorging myself on station food I boarded my train where the Brompton rode unobtrusively beside me, which was a good thing because it turns out it was "bobblehead night" at Yankee Stadium and the train got pretty crowded:

Indeed, pedaling home from the station it occurred to me that I too probably looked like a bobblehead on my tiny bicycle, but I was enjoying it way too much to care.

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

All Or Nothing: The Rapidly Eroding Middle Ground Between Caution and Throwing It to the Wind.

Are you planning your next vacation?  Do you like death?  How about roads?  Well, why not visit Bolivia's "Death Road?"

YOLOSA, Bolivia—Nearly two dozen cyclists have been killed on Bolivia’s so-called Death Road, which descends 11,000 feet from the snow-capped Andes to the rainforest. That peril is part of its allure.

Sure, there are stunning vistas and sparkling waterfalls along the winding 40-mile ribbon of dirt and gravel that clings precariously to vertical mountain faces. But it’s the occasional tragedy, like when a rider overshoots a hairpin turn and Death Road lives up to its name, that’s made it one of Bolivia’s biggest tourist attractions.

The accompanying video was rather tepid, so I wasn't sure why people kept dying, but it turns out it's because many of the people who visit Death Road are both lazy and stupid:

In addition, the fact that it’s all downhill and requires minimal pedaling attracts people of all shapes and abilities. Some commit rookie mistakes, like squeezing only the front-wheel brake which can send them flying over their handlebars. Mr. Symons says that cut-rate tour agencies provide beat-up mountain bikes with faulty brake-pads. Still, he chalks up many of the mishaps to dunderheaded behavior.

Some tourists, he says, show up for the ride after a night of partying and are hung-over—or still drunk. Others are speed demons. Then there was the guy who taped a Handycam to his bike frame and, while adjusting his viewfinder, pedaled off a ledge.

Does it make me a bad person that I kinda wanna see that Handycam footage?

Speaking of flying off cliffs, let's talk about helme(n)ts:

As you'll recall because you hang on my every word, yesterday I mentioned I'd been flitting about the West Village this past weekend, and in addition to seeing cargo bikes I saw children wearing helments in situations in which helments simply aren't warranted.

I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking, "Who are you to say when my child should and should not wear a helment?"

Well, I'll tell you who I am.  I'm the voice of common sense, goddamn it!  Because there's no reason whatsoever that a child should be wearing one of these:

On one of these:

Yet that's one of the many instances of gratuitous child-helmenting I've witnessed since the weather turned in our favor--and it was exactly that helment, too, lest you think I'm exaggerating for effect.

Now, it's important to remember that kids live in a world of fantasy, and oftentimes they like to wear helmets while playing because it makes them feel like they're race car drivers or Iron Man or Genghis Khan.  (Are you kidding?  Kids love Genghis Khan!)  In fact, sometimes kids will even insist on wearing helments when they don't need them, because children are demanding little shits.  However, this was definitely not the case here.  As it happens, I personally witnessed this adorable little girl scootering about, bare of head and happy as you please, and then the nanny called her over urgently and cowled her with that hideous plastic abomination.  Instantly she went from delightful vernal sprite to Darth Fucking Vader.  It was depressing.

(And please note that I am not blaming the nanny.  I'm sure she was under strict orders to make certain the poor kid wore that stupid thing at all times while scooting.  I'm also sure she'd have been fired if the parents caught her allowing the kid to ride a scooter on a lovely April afternoon without a head encased in packing materials.)

And that's not all. Not too long ago I also witnessed a child wearing a helment as he rode one of these...on the freaking grass:

"Rode," by the way, is putting it charitably as the kid could hardly get the thing moving.  (You know, because of the grass.)  So why make your kid wear a helment in order to sit on what is essentially just a stool?  Because it has wheels?  Please.  Look how low it is!  His head is already closer to the ground while sitting on this than it would be if he were standing up!  Letting the kid simply walk around the living room is far more likely to result in head injury than somehow falling off this thing and onto the grass--and even a child would have a hard time dumping this contraption, because it has three wheels and it looks like it weighs as much as an Ikea entertainment console.

"But that's not the point!," I can hear some of you crying.  "Wearing helments while using three-wheeled toys instils good safety habits in children!"


Making kids wear helments anytime they get near anything with wheels just makes them think riding things with wheels is a dangerous pain in the ass, and instead of associating bikes with freedom and fun they'll associate them with hot sweaty plastic and shrill, panicked admonitions of "Put your helmet on!!!" as mommy and daddy chase them down in the playground.  On the other hand, piling into the family Range Rover entails no such concomitant neuroses or safety apparel, save for the seatbelt and perhaps a booster seat.  So which form of transport do you think the child is going to associate with convenience and safety and normalcy?

(Hint: it's the one I don't own.)

And they'll become good little victim-blamers when they grow up and get Land Rovers of their own.  "Look at that irresponsible cyclist with no helmet on, he must have a death wish.  I think I'll teach him a lesson."  BEEEEEEP!!!

Look, we all want to protect our kids, but no matter what you do they manage to hit their heads somehow.  This is because they're clumsy and stupid.  Deal with it.  They get big, purple contusions on their foreheads trying to retrieve toys from under the coffee table.  They run after the pretty butterfly then go sliding face first down the asphalt.  They bait the cat, with predictable results.  This is why they can wear a helment all day on their crappy scooter and then eat shit that evening attempting to climb over the couch.

I'm not saying kids shouldn't learn there's a time and a place for helments, I'm just saying people need to realize there's a difference between safety and brainwashing:

("The magic symbol on your helment tells the drivers not to hit you.")

And we've been so thoroughly brainwashed by this point it may be too late.

Speaking of punishing you in the name of protection, it's springtime here in New York City, and that means it's time for the annual bicycle crackdown!

And what would a good old fashioned New York City-style bike crackdown be if it didn't involve ticketing riders for stuff that's not even against the law?

It turns out that Park Slope's police lead the city in tickets for texting while cycling, having written 151 tickets for cellphone use in 2014. There is an argument to be made about how such a crackdown would further road safety, but there is a much more glaring problem: texting while cycling is not illegal.

Although an NYPD spokesperson has previously claimed that it technically is:

State law currently bans texting or making phone calls while driving a car, and NYPD Legal Affairs Bureau spokeswoman Susan Petito confirmed this morning at the hearing that traffic laws applying to motor vehicles also technically apply to the operation of bicycles. However, she said summonses for texting bikers are currently "very rare": only six were handed out last year.

While I full acknowledge that using your smartphone while cycling isn't a good idea, I vigorously oppose any new law that would ban it, for the simple reason that it would put an end to my career as New York City's premier Cat 6 adventure photographer:

Sure, I could just duct tape tape a selfie stick to my head instead like that guy who plummeted off Death Road, but as the Lucas Brunelle of Citi Bike I live for the thrill of barreling down the Manhattan Bridge bike path at relatively conservative speeds while taking lousy pictures.  After all, every saddle I have is a razor, and I play to roll.  (After inserting my blue Citi Bike membership key and patiently waiting for the green light, of course.)  Plus, I don't dare go faster--at least without dick breaks.  To wit, consider this, the greatest "Spurious Anecdote" to date about why you NEED dick breaks on your rhode biek--or else!

Saved by These Discs
A section of Ballard Canyon turns downhill, and when you look at it on Google Maps, the road looks like the outline of a soft-serve ice-cream cone. I was coming around the last, sharp turn here with lots of speed, and passed another rider going the other direction. I looked over because I thought it might be Mike or Matt, and when I looked down the road again, I was practically on the shoulder. I thought, this is really bad. But here I am, recounting the misadventure without a scratch on me, which is real-life proof that disc brakes work. The Specialized Tarmac Disc is a crazy-fast, thoroughly fun bike that corners so well it makes you think of curves not as potentially dangerous challenges, but as yummy—and oh-so-tantalizing—treats.—Louis Mazzante

See that?  If you move your head even slightly while descending on a bicycle YOU WILL DIE...

...unless you upgrade to dick breaks immediately.

There's no way he could have slowed that bicycle with primitive rim brakes.

Best of all, this life-saving bicycle can be yours today for a mere $9,500:

"What You Need to Know" indeed.

That's not nearly enough information, they really should add a second box:

And if all else fails, just lay a massive drunken guilt trip on the whole family by insisting that you need a safer bicycle, and that if they don't support you in this they clearly they want you to die.

Lastly, in other speed-related news, the Red Hook Crit happened this past weekend:

And the winner of the men's race appears to be a former pro who rode for Saunier Duval--you know, this guy's team:

Meanwhile, scanning the results sheet, the erstwhile hipster alleycat heroes of old placed down in the double digits.

It's the end of an era.

Or maybe the beginning of one.