I Am Highly Specialized: The Right Tool For the Right Job

In the comments to yesterday's post, someone posted a link to the following bicycle:

This is easily one of the most fascinating bikes I've ever seen. Some bicycles make you want to ride them to pieces, others make you want to own them and protect them from harm and scratches, and still others make you want to puke. This one makes me want to puke, sure, but in the way a huge buffet does and not in the way a piece of maggoty roadkill or Larry King does. And like a huge buffet, every time I look at this bicycle I notice something new, and that something doesn't go with anything else on the bike. If you've ever gone to a wedding or something, hit the buffet, and wound up with a heaping and contradictory plate of fried rice, mashed potatoes, a goat cheese omelet from the omelet station, some baked ziti, sweet and sour chicken, French toast, a couple of meatballs, a Caesar salad, and a bowl of Frosted Rice Krispies in chocolate milk for good measure because each item looked good individually but you didn't consider whether any of it would go together, then you know what I'm talking about.

At the same time, this bicycle also evokes one of those performances when a bunch of rock stars of varying ages and degrees of bloat and irrelevance all take the stage to benefit some kind of charity. This bike has everything from the high-tech time trial bar and saddle of today to the bonded frame, 700c road suspension fork, and bladed Spinergy death wheel of yesteryear. It's like Chris Cornell, Dave Navarro, Pete Townshend, Paul McCartney, Korn, a few guys from Dire Straits, and, for no good reason at all, the London Symphony Orchestra all belting out a cover of "Rockin' in the Free World" on some VH1 special to benefit ADD research or something. (And in a case like that, the performance is arguably more harmful than the affliction.)

Most profound, though, is the appearance of both a Spinergy Rev-X and an Aerospoke on the same bicycle.  Notice how similar yet how different they are from each-other in their freakishness.  In a strange way it's like spotting Stephen Baldwin and Frank Stallone waiting on line together to see the Bacon Brothers play.

And of course the whole thing leans on a kickstand:

This bike is what's beautiful about cycling--it is a unique tool assembled to fulfill a unique need.  Personally, I can't imagine a situation that would call for aerodynamics, front suspension, a rear rack, and a triple chainring, but apparently this person finds himself needing to rush places in record time over irregular surfaces while carrying small loads often enough to have built this bicycle.  And apparently there's also a pretty big climb somewhere along the way.  It's also difficult to imagine what you might wear on a bicycle like this--I'm thinking a skinsuit with a pair of cargo shorts, and I'm also guessing there's a beard and a helmet mirror involved.  This bicycle also appeals to me because I happen to have a soft spot for mix-matched brakes.  I find using the same style of brake from the same manufacturer front and rear to be boring, and I'm always touched when two completely different brakes come together in a team effort to bring a rider to a stop.  With the cantilever front and the dual-pivot rear, this bicycle has the road bike equivalent of a mullet, and I like that.

Clearly, this bicycle is meant to do everything, and it does so with extreme ugliness.  It also bucks the current trend towards specialization in the bicycle industry.  We've actually reached a point now where categories are so nuanced that the crappy bike with the hi-ten frame is not only back, but it's also becoming a hotly-contested segment.  First, there was the SE Draft, which has been a staple in neighborhoods like Williamsburg, Brooklyn for the last year or so now:

The SE Draft comes complete with an American bottom bracket, which is to bottom brackets what American cheese is to cheese.  Hey, I don't begrudge anybody their cheap transit, and the supply of Old Crappy Ten Speeds ripe for singlespeed conversion is not going to last forever.  (Moeover the prices for them are still artificially inflated.)  If you need something cheap to pedal around town and lock to poles the SE Draft seems like it fits the bill quite nicely.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before the people at Dorel Industries realized that they own Schwinn (the OG of Old Crappy Ten Speed makers), and that if people are not only turning Old Crappy Ten Speeds into New Crappy One-Speeds but are also paying good money for Pre-Fabricated New Crappy One-Speeds, then they might as well make their own PFNCOS to complete with the Draft.   And so the Cutter was born:

Not only does the Cutter appear to have a threaded bottom bracket shell, but it also comes with a "sticker kit," and it only costs a little more than the Draft.  Again, having two inexpensive urban runabouts to choose from is not at all a bad thing, and it's especially good news for anybody sitting on a supply of 1 1/8" threaded headsets and stems, because that's what the Cutter comes with for some reason and those are about as easy to find as 1" threaded suspension forks.  Most significantly, though, should Dorel decide to sell this bike at Wal-Mart, the cultural ramifications are obvious. I have no idea if that's part of the plan, but if it is you can also expect to see MASH posters next to the Miley Cyrus posters very soon.

There's no doubt that the Cutter is a bit cookie-cutter, especially when you compare it to that Trek.  But no big corporation would ever create something like that.  It takes an individual to create a true monstrosity.

Soft Pedaling: Taking it Easy

(Still crankin' away--no retirement for Perwez Ahmed. Only prayer breaks.)

If you have the sort of gaping hole in your life that gives you the time and inclination to follow professional road racing, you know that this past weekend was the World Road Championships in Varese, Italy. And if you're American, you know that team leader Levi Leipheimer opted not to race. Never mind that Levi finished fourth in the time trial last Thursday, which is pretty good. (Personally I'd rather finish fourth instead of second or third in a race like that, since silver and bronze is kind of lame, but fourth is the best out of all the other non-medalers and is, when you really think about it, technically a win. ) Regardless, it seems Levi "didn't feel up for the leadership of our relatively young team." But I suppose Leipheimer, around whom the "Let Levi Ride" campaign was created, feels that while he should be allowed to ride whenever he wants he should also not ever be required to ride, and that he should be free to let a "relatively young team" eke out a 23rd place while he ends his season and evens out his cyclist's tan on some beach somewhere while listening to the sounds of Malaysian pop sensation Letle Viride.

But who can blame Levi, really? This bike racing thing is exhausting, and it seems like riders can't retire fast enough. Not only is Paolo Bettini retiring, but so is Yaroslav Popovych, who's only like 28 and had at least seven more good years of not living up to the promise of being a future Tour de France winner. Meanwhile, those foolish enough to stay in the sport often find themselves being harassed by the authorities. In fact, Italian police raided the Luxembourg team hotel last Friday, apparently because there were rumors that Benoit Joachim had been sleeping in an oxygen tent. Hey, not everybody who sleeps in a tent is doing so for purposes of performance-enhancement. It's common knowledge in the peloton that Joachim likes to have little hotel room floor campouts while he's on the road, and that he often pitches a pup tent in which he throws little tea parties for his assortment of stuffed animals and then reads them bedtime stories before finally turning in himself. Just because he copes with homesickness a little differently than the other riders does not make him a cheater. (Though I'm not sure what Frank Schleck was doing in there with him, and I don't know if I believe him when he claims that he was just playing "blood transfusion" with one of Joachim's teddy bears.)

Perhaps it was the hardship of being a professional cyclist and living on the road that sowed the seeds of Greg LeMond's lushly-blooming insanity, as manifest by his attempt to hijack Lance Armstrong's Interbike press conference last week. Or perhaps he was simply driven to it by the person sitting behind him wearing a Metallica shirt:

Word has it that LeMond never really got over founding bassist Cliff Burton's death in 1987, and that he refuses to acknowledge any Metallica album after "Master of Puppets." Still, despite himself, he had finally decided to give the band a second chance by purchasing their latest album, "Death Magnetic," just before the press conference--only to find as millions of other fans did that the sound quality was extremely poor. Understandably, after waiting over 20 years to purchase a new Metallica album only for it to be a tremendous disappointment, LeMond was sufficiently on edge to be pushed over it upon noticing the shirt above. At least that's the defense his lawyers are considering using.

It's also entirely possible that Interbike itself is what drove LeMond to it. I wasn't at Interbike (nor have I ever been) but I understand from those who do attend that it can be extremely irritating. This bicycle, which I saw on the VeloNews site, would appear to be a case in point:

I'm not sure what's going on here, but I can only assume that these cables are supplying the bicycle with ugliness intravenously. I'm also not sure why people are always compelled to hide cables on bicycles, or to route them through the frame or through various components. Personally, I prefer being able to change cables and housing without having to first extricate them or remove bar tape, but then again I don't really care how my bikes look either--as long as they're not covered with purple mucus like this one is.

In any case, my advice to Greg and to all the other tired cyclists (active, retired, or coming back) is to take it easy. Just like Levi didn't feel up to the leadership of the relatively young US team, I didn't feel up to riding very quickly on my commute this morning. Instead, I resolved to go downright slowly. One thing I discovered was that the city looks very different when you're slow. You even deal with an entirely different kind of traffic. Instead of the crazed, rushed traffic, you deal with the slow and ailing kind:

Had I been riding faster I would not have had the good fortune of watching a minivan die. This is the moment when the sputtering, smoking hulk finally pulled over and the driver emerged from it. As you can see, he's just about to remove his hat, wave it around in a vain attempt to clear the smoke, and begin cursing in Spanglish. You'll notice also that the visibility has been reduced to almost zero by the emissions. I would have stopped to see if I could lend a hand, but not only am I a poor auto mechanic, but I was also completely unconcerned.

While preventative maintenance is not high on the agendas of many drivers in New York City, cosmetic maintenance certainly is. Here you see a "bumper bully," which is the top tube pad of the automotive world. You can also see the spraypainted lines of what may in fact be a nascent bicycle lane. This of course raises the question, "When does a bicycle lane's life begin?" If you believe it begins the moment the outline is hastily spraypainted on the pavement, as the conservatives do, then this Saab is already guilty of bike lane obstruction. However, if you hold the more liberal view that a bike lane is not a bike lane until the lines are solid and there are little pictures of bicycles in between them, then I suppose the driver has nothing to worry about. (And even if I were to rear end him, at least his bumper would be safe from superficial damage.)

A little while later I encountered workers actually painting the bike lane. (Though if it is a bike lane I'm not sure why it has a broken line. Maybe it's some other kind of lane.) Monday morning during rush hour didn't seem to me to be an optimal time to paint lines on the street, but then again I don't work for the DOT. I was, however, very careful not to ride through the wet paint, lest I inadvertently set a Pepé Le Pew scenario in motion. (Some overamorous fixter might think the Ironic Orange Julius Bike is equipped with white tires and I might find myself being pursued on the Craigslist Missed Connections.)

Continuing slowly on my way, I experienced a magical moment when I encountered two vehicles moving even slower than I was. They were traveling side by side and the drivers were engaged in conversation as rush-hour traffic backed up behind them. Despite my better judgment, I was curious and so I rode between them. Sadly, I was unable to understand what they were saying, as they spoke in a foreign tongue. However, for a few minutes I felt like I was swimming with a couple of whales--especially since both of them were really ugly, they were spewing forth from their blowholes, and they were liable to crush me at any moment.

Speaking of ugly slow-moving vehicles, as I waited for the light I noticed what appeared to be a covered wagon just beyond the head of the Nonplussed Woman Looking Away from BikeSnobNYC. As soon as the light changed, I gave chase. (And by "gave chase" I mean I resumed pedaling.) Here's what I saw:

According to the URL on the chassis, this monstrosity is the work of Organic Engines. I've since visited the site, where I learned this:

About Me and OE

I am obsessed with Times New Roman, I love coffee, and fabricating. I am a latent motorhead with a sustainability fetish.

I like to mentor, but I play it off like I am just helping out. One of my favorite things is paying wages.

I love music, all kinds, and try to see a show every week or two. I am known for my indie rock and 80’s music dancing. To many people they look the same.

I have a cat, my girlfriend has a dog.

I was born in Canada but I love the USA .

I love to tell bad jokes and meandering stories that confuse rather than inspire.

I can cook and like pints of Harp Ale. Bottle Rockets Rule, and I have the powder burns to prove it.

I love to sew.. fabric-cating, get it?

I am learning all about the Linux Operating System . Commmand line skilllzz!!!!!

Eventually I hope to make one of everything. This is getting easier since I am learning to program and build CNC machines.

A person obsessed with both typefaces and bad puns? Now that's font-tastic!

Of course, some things never change, even when you ride slow. Here's yet another hipster bike locked to a pole on a New York City street. Note the lime green rims and matching grips. I can just see him doing a leg-over-the-bars dismount as he cinches up his messenger bag and saunters over to the playground.

Why won't these people grow up already?

BSNYC Friday Fun Quiz!

(Nonplussed Journalist Looking Straight at the Infinite and Beyond, by Erik K)

Although that Armstrong press conference was like two days ago now, I simply can't shake the feeling that I am still being watched by the Nonplussed Journalist.  Furthermore, I suspect that, in addition to being nonplussed, he may also be omniscient and/or omnipresent.   I'm not sure which publication he works for--it might be the Book of Life itself, or it may just be Cats and Kittens magazine.  But whatever it is, I only hope the Nonplussed Journalist is looking upon my endeavors favorably, and that he does not see fit to pan me, writ large, upon the very fabric of the Universe. 

In the meantime, with the weekend about to appear on the horizon, I'm leaving you with a quiz.  As always, consider the question, look deep into your soul, and choose your answer.  If you're right, you'll see that quite clearly.  If you're not, you'll see something I really don't think you want to see.

Thanks for reading, and ride safe this weekend.

--BSNYC/RTMS

1) What are these pants?

--The new Rock & Republic "Keirin Cut" jean

--The new Hincapie jean

--The new Mario Cipollini jean

--The new Gap "Fixed-Gear Freestyle Jean"

2) Some company has actually copied Old Ten Speed Gallery proprietor Cameron's PBR fixed-gear (above).

--True

--False

3) Who brought a big bowl of crazy to the Armstrong press conference in Vegas yesterday?

--Fat Cyclist

--Greg LeMond

--Betsy Andreu

--David Walsh


4) The non-concealable tattoo fad (including, of course, the knuckle tattoo) has been validated by which publication?

--The New York Times

--Vogue

--The Wall Street Journal

--Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung


5) Which gentrifying Brooklyn neighborhood is getting its own t-shirt from J. Crew, and what does the logo say?

--Bushwick ("The Trophy Tavern")

--Williamsburg ("Fratelli Auto Body")

--Greenpoint ("Fixed Greenpoint")

--Canarsie ("Where the Goys Are")

6) A lock is only as strong as its weakest part. What's the weakest part of this lock (spotted recently by a reader)?

--The curved "U" portion

--The keyed portion

--The bracket

--The owner's brain

7) According to a post on the Bicycling website, what may determine how much you ride?

--Whether or not you've upgraded to the new Madone

--The modulus of your frame's carbon fiber

--Finger length

--Fofonov frequency

***Special high-tech bonus question***

According to the "secret website," what is this seatpost made out of?

--Carbon

--Crabon

--Cabron

--Almunium

Coming Back to Haunt You: Scary Faces and Spiky Bikes

In case you're keeping track, here's the Official BSNYC Pro Cyclist Retirement/Comeback Status Update (brought to you by the American Cheese Society--now celebrating 25 years!):

Lance Armstrong--coming back
Viatcheslav Ekimov--not coming back
Bobby Julich--retired, comeback pending
Dmitry Fofonov--missing, presumed pleasuring himself
Mario Cipollini--contemplating comeback to finance new bathroom vanity

Thanks American Cheese Society!

Of course, there are two types of retirement: there's the voluntary kind; and then there's the compulsory, drug-related kind. However, there's only one kind of comeback: the voluntary kind. Until now, that is. With all eyes on Armstrong it appears that there is a magenta-hued groundswell to bring his arch-rival and comic foil Jan Ullrich back to the peloton as well (not to be confused with the magenta-clad swell that is Ullrich's stomach):

I'm not sure Ullrich actually wants to come back, or if they'd even allow him to if he did, but I do like to imagine that one day we really could have a system whereby any retired cyclist who gets enough votes from the public would be forced to return to racing, no matter how long they've been out of the game. Just imagine an arthritic and very reluctant Eddy Merckx swinging a leg over the bike once again and dropping through the peloton and out the back like a hex bolt through a hamster's digestive tract. Imagine also the excitement of forcing Greg LeMond and Laurent Fignon to square off against each-other one more time. (An idea all the more appetizing to many since LeMond/Fignon sounds like a particularly succulent cut of meat.) As of right now the Ullrich petition already has 80 comments. I feel like 100 should be enough to require him to put his juicy LeMond/Fignon sandwich down, saddle up, and start training for Le Tour '09.

Meanwhile, when Lance Armstrong says he's coming back, he means it. After yesterday's press conference he busted out of his suit like Party Boy, shouldered his Trek, hotfooted it to the Jet Blue terminal, deplaned in Vegas, and rolled right up to the Cross Vegas cyclocross race, where he finished in 22nd place out of 69 finishers:

Some may scoff, but in my book 22nd place is a solid "pass" and therefore an excellent result. 21 guys may have beat him, but more importantly he beat 47 guys, which is more than double the number of people who beat him. Also, one of the people he beat is Carl Decker, who is the reigning Singlespeed World Champion. (I am the World's Worst Bike Racer but the World's Best Rationalizer.) Moreover, Armstrong was battling not only lack of sleep, exhaustion from a day of press, and a stacked field, but he was also dogged by the haunting visage of doping expert and Carl Reiner stunt double Dr. Don Catlin:

Catlin's constant presence must be irritating to say the least. As Armstrong noted at the press conference, he must do whatever Catlin asks of him, and I can tell by the piercing look in his eyes (if you're not sure which one's Catlin, he's the one with the glasses) that his testing methods probably go beyond simple diligence and cross over into maliciousness. I can imagine Armstrong striking up a coversation with an attractive woman, and then, just as they're about to hit it off, a jealous and vindictive Catlin approaching and demanding he provide a urine sample on the spot. (In the medical profession, I believe this is called "cockblocking.") Just imagine stepping out of the shower, wiping the condensation off the medicine cabinet mirror, and seeing not only your own face but Catlin's as well. That kind of shock can't be healthy. Also, he's getting paid but Armstrong's not. I think that puts the 22nd place into perspective. It wouldn't suprise me if Armstrong also had to pit every lap at last night's race--not to switch bikes but to produce urine for the insatiable Dr. Catlin. I bet Ryan Trebon doesn't have to do that.

And let's not forget the other visage Armstrong is doubtless haunted by, that being the one belonging to Nonplussed Journalist Looking Straight at BikeSnobNYC:

Plus, from Armstrong's vantage point on the podium, he was confronted not only by Nonplussed Journalist Looking Straight at BikeSnobNYC, but also by BikeSnobNYC him(my)self, who was wearing not only dirty cycling shoes but also a sweat-stained cycling cap. It must have been like looking at a two-headed Medusa.

But as I said yesterday, cycling is full of irony, and apparently it's not "cool" to be down with Armstrong's comeback. I mean, he won the Tour seven times--how lame is that? Victory is sooo tacky. You're only supposed to win it like once and then get implicated in a scandal. What is "cool," of course, is all the cutting-edge stuff happening in the world of fixed-gear riding. Check out this Bianchi Pista, which I saw over at Trackosaurusrex:

This "artistic interpretation of a track bike" indeed captures the contradictory nature of the fixed-gear scene in that it not only appropriates the Crass logo (fixed-gear fans just love the way that logo looks, don't they?), but it is also, quite literally, unrideable. I was curious about the artist, so I popular search engined him, and came upon this article in Time magazine from way back in 2002:

"'Takahashi doesn't think about originality,' carps fashion critic Takeji Hirakawa, 'only about copying.'

Five years ago that may have been true. But with age and experience, Takahashi's work is growing beyond simple expressions of rage and becoming more sophisticated and nuanced. "

Yes, it's nice to see that his work has continued along that trajectory of sophistication and nuance during the six years since that article was written.

The Indignity of Commuting by Bicycle: The Dignity of Attending a Press Conference

If you're in New York City, you may have noticed a bunch of black SUVs with police escorts around the Sheraton Hotel on 53rd and 7th this morning. This was due to the Clinton Global Initiative, at which a group of dignitaries and world leaders (and Bono) gathered to, as far as I can tell, solve the problems of the world.

Ordinarily I wouldn't be concerned with a gathering like this since it doesn't really fall under my purview, which is cycling and making fun of it. But it just so happens that this was the place where Lance Armstrong (the Bono of cycling) would be announcing the details of his return to professional cycling. So I figured I might as well attend.

I weaved through thicker-than-usual traffic, arrived at the Sheraton and fastened the Ironic Orange Julius Bike to a nearby pole as securely as possible.



Affixing my press credentials to my pants (fortunately I was wearing pants) I ran the secret service gauntlet, the metal-detection gauntlet, and the temptingly sticky pastry platter gauntlet.


I then entered a plush, carpeted room which I was warned would soon be filled to capacity. I took a seat at the front (in case Lance did any magic tricks, I was hoping he'd pick me as a volunteer) and passed the time watching the Clinton Global Initiative proceedings on the video screens at the front of the room.

Bono talked a lot about starving children, which made me feel really guilty about not eating anything from the pastry platters. (I made a mental note to eat a danish for the impoverished peoples of the world on my way out.)



By the time Al Gore started speaking, I felt acutely aware of my growing need to relieve myself. However, I was reluctant to leave my seat in the increasingly crowded room lest it be taken. I'd like to believe there's a "siblinghood of journalists" and that they'd save my chair, but firstly, I'm not a journalist, and secondly, this was a shifty-looking bunch. Nonetheless, I put my bag on my seat and hit the head. If you're wondering what the urinals at the Sheraton look like, here they are:


I returned to my seat, which was fortunately still mine, and alternated between staring at the video screens and staring at my feet. (Despite the fact a cyclist was about to speak, I was the only person in the room with clipless-compatible shoes.)


At this point the room was full, and anything with a lens was trained at the podium in anticipation of Armstrong's entrance.

Armstrong was introduced by Doug Ulman, the President of LiveStrong, who is the guy in the yellow tie. Doug is flanked by John Seffrin, the CEO of the American Cancer Society on his left, and by Taylor "Mini" Phinney on his right. On the far left is Dr. Don Catlin. Lance Armstrong is the guy at the podium gesticulating meaningfully.

Armstrong's comments were very straightforward, and I'm sure you'll be reading them on various other blogs, websites, and periodicals in the coming days. Basically, he said that Leadville reminded him how much he enjoys spending hours at a time on a bike, and that he's returning to the sport to implement his global cancer awareness strategy. His number one goal, he emphasized, is the message. He also said that he'll ride for Astana (which was a tremendous disappointment to me, as I was hoping Mellow Johnny's was about to become the world's wealthiest shop team) and that the races he'll definitely be doing at this point are the Tour Down Under, the Tour de France, and of course, the Leadville 100. (Which, as far as I know, will make him the first-ever cyclist to use the Tour as a training race for Leadville.) He also called 18-year old Taylor Phinney the "future of American cycling," though he failed to comment on his more-than-passing resemblance to Andy Samberg from SNL. (Here's what Phinney looked like as Armstrong anointed him):

Speaking of people who look like people, that Dr. Catlin guy who looks like Carl Reiner on the left is the guy who will be testing Armstrong constantly for performance-enhancing drugs. Word is that absolutely nothing gets past this guy, and that he can't be bought. (I'd have to say this appears to be the case, as he wouldn't sign the photo of Carl Reiner I always carry with me in my wallet, even after I offered him ten bucks.) Armstrong said this will be the most intense testing program ever ("suck on that, Vaughters," he failed to add), and that he will "do whatever [Catlin] asks me." (I observed this to be true immediately after the press conference, when Catlin sent Armstrong to a nearby deli for a corned beef sandwich.)

By the way, if you're wondering who's paying Catlin, it's Astana. Meanwhile, Armstrong is riding for free. I find it interesting that cycling has reached a point where the world's most famous cyclist must ride gratis while a doctor whose sole job is to look for drugs is receiving what I would guess is a pretty substantial salary.

Essentially, though, Armstrong summarized, his return to professional cycling is centered around: 1) spreading the LiveStrong message; 2) developing the sport (through a U23 team which Phinney will lead and which Axel Merckx will direct); and, 3) being the anti-dopingest and most tested rider in the known universe.

Then came the questions, fastly and furiously. Here's what journalists look like while they formulate questions:

And here's the mess they leave behind them when Lance Armstrong finishes answering their questions, leaves amidst the sound of camera shutters (I didn't even know cameras still had shutters) and they depart en masse:



I've not written much (or really anything) about Lance Armstrong's comeback up until now, mostly because so many other people are too and I don't like to do what everybody else is doing. However, as I've often said, cycling is rife with irony. And one of the most ironic things about cycling is that cyclists hate winners. (Even I have said that "winning is for dopers sandbaggers," though that's only because I never win.) I suppose this is why Armstrong's comeback has been met with so much skepticism in the cycling world. I mean, everybody knows he cheated, right?

Well, as I said, I don't like to do what everybody else is doing. I would, however, like to thank the cycling press for getting me into this press conference. Of course, as much as I'd like to, I can't, because they didn't.

I suppose that's because I don't like to do what everybody else is doing.

Evolving or Devolving? From Comebacks to CamelBaks

(Image by Greg)

Few things are as rewarding as helping to embroider an idea onto the cultural fabric. As such, I was very pleased to receive from a reader a piece of art incorporating the beloved "All You Haters Suck My Balls" rim.

In these troubled times, we need an inspirational slogan to rally around, and I feel that "All You Haters Suck My Balls" may very well be that slogan. Yesterday, a number of commenters even suggested emblazoning it on merchandise, and indeed the artist who sent me this image also suggested that I register the URL. However, I refuse to do either. Firstly, the slogan doesn't belong to me. I like to think it belongs to all of us, though technically it belongs to the person who first expressed it on his lime-green rim with twenty-three vinyl stick-on letters. (I can't help imagining that, as he applied the second "L" in "balls," he shivered slightly with the dawning awareness he was doing something great.)

Secondly, our culture is far too commodified as it is. As soon as anybody expresses any interest in anything, someone else comes along and tries to package it and sell it. Worse yet, all too often we are willing to buy, as though an idea isn't legitimate until we've paid money for it. And that's simply not true. The AYHSMB sentiment is priceless, and as soon as you affix a price to it you cheapen it, no matter what that price may be. And I refuse to participate in the cheapening of "All You Haters Suck My Balls." Instead, I choose to meditate on it. If you find yourself with a free moment today, close your eyes and imagine actor Morgan Freeman's voice intoning the mantra "All You Haters Suck My Balls." I think you'll find it surprisingly transformative.

Unfortunately though, it may be naive of me to think we can share a slogan when we can barely share the bike path. I came upon this distressing accident report yesterday on Craigslist:

Bicycle on Bicycle on Runner Collision, West Side HWY - 35 (Midtown West)
Reply to: pers-[deleted]
Date: 2008-09-22, 4:11AM EDT

Me, riding North on West Side bike path, white helmet, black jersey.

Other cyclist, red jersey or helmet, big guy going South in North-bound lane. Dude, are you OK? You nailed me! I turned around after a sec and I think you were gone. I realize that it was crowded, but if you are going to pass people by straying into the oncoming bike traffic, you better be able to pull it off. Also, you didn't stop to see if I was OK. I hit a runner jogging next to me!

Runner, jogging next to me. You were a mean super bitch! I just got hit head on by another rider! What the fuck is YOUR problem? Yes I bumped into you while trying not to do a faceplant on the pavement. You acted like I raped your baby. I apologized and asked if you were OK. You gave dirty looks and huffed and put your precious earbuds back in. Homework: be nice to a random stranger tomorrow.

While this was posted in "Missed Connections," it would appear that they connected quite effectively. Indeed, this sounds like a textbook example of bike path clustercoitus. While ostensibly a car-free haven for bicyclists, in reality the bike path presents a whole new set of dangers which, in its own way, is even worse than what you encounter on the streets. For example, when you're in city traffic, the bike salmon coming straight at you is often at least some grizzled messenger with a steely gaze and sharp bike handling skills with the wherewithal to avoid you. On the other hand, on the bike path, it's usually some saucer-eyed novice who's in that dangerous stage of road bike ownership when you want to start playing with speed but you haven't quite mastered things like which which lever shifts the bike and which one stops it.

Similarly, on the streets, the most common non-bicycle you're forced to interact with is cars. They can be frustrating--deadly in fact--but at least their turning radius is limited and they don't tend to abruptly about-face right into you like runners do. The car-vs-bike thing may get all the press, but anybody who's been forced to share the road with a runner knows that's where the real acrimony lies. And the fact that runners are constantly turning around in front of you as though they forgot something important they had to do at home is compounded by the fact that they're also always wearing headphones--mostly because running is the most boring thing you can do on two feet besides standing still.

That may be why Lance Armstrong is consigning his running shoes to the back of his closet and getting back on the bike. And while the world waits for him to announce his plans, all eyes turn to Viatcheslav Ekimov--who, it turns out, has no comeback plans whatsoever:

I'm not sure why VeloNews felt that Ekimov's non-return to the peloton was newsworthy. Certainly nobody actually thought he might actually be coming back in the first place. I mean, that guy's old. In fact, if you check his Wikipedia page you'll see he actually won a stage of the Tour of Pangea. I suppose next they'll track down Lance Armstrong's eighth grade social studies teacher and find out if she's considering putting the knitting needles down and returning to the chalkboard. I heard that after a lengthy discussion with her cats they all decided it was the right thing to do.

Of course, the real breaking news is out on the streets. A reader has forwarded me this vexing picture of a bicycle which appears to be in the process of evolving (or devolving) into a fixed-gear:

This is a fascinating find, and is in many ways the equivalent of spotting a yeti or a sasquatch--it's a bridge between two related species. Yet it also bears hallmarks of the platypus, in that it also has traits of completely unrelated species. Take a closer look at this diagram:


The 700c rear wheel and the lack of a brake indicate that this bicycle is on its way to fixed-gear country. This would appear to be reinfored by the fact that it's an older Klein, and as such is equipped with rear-entry horizontal dropouts, which is not nearly as sordid as it sounds and makes it ripe for fixed-gear conversion. The flop-and-chop bars also speak of a fixed future. However, one loses the fixed-gear scent when one comes to the levers. Certainly nobody would invest in costly STI levers if they were thinking of going fixed. Yet if this is the case, why no rear brake? I mean, sure, you probably couldn't get the brake pads to line up with the 700c rim, but in that case why not go back to the original 26" setup? Perhaps this bike is not evolving, and is in fact an evolutionary dead end--kind of like the Neanderthals. Alas, we may never know.

Personally, though, if this bike is on its way to becoming a fixed-gear I would stop and reverse the transformation if I were the owner. That Klein is a vintage mountain bike, and vintage mountain bikes are all the rage. Indeed, an old Breezer recently cracked the $10K barrier on eBay (without even meeting the reserve!):

If you're reading this outside of the United States, US$10,000 is almost €200. So we're talking a lot of money.

But how to hydrate yourself on your new/old mountain bike? Sure, bottles are period-correct, but they're so unwieldy. Why not be a rolling anachronism with the CamelBak RaceBak?

A reader recently brought this to my attention, and while I have absolutely no problem with hydration systems in principle, in practice they frighten me. In this case, it's partially the copy: "You've got a hydration hose just inches from your face, there are no dodgy moments...," it says. Well, I'd argue if you've got a hose just inches from your face then things have gotten quite dodgy indeed. Plus, I have an irrational fear of carrying fluids on my body. Not only because I feel like a giant blister, but also because I fear it hastens evolution and that really scares me. Even though there's no scientific basis for this fear, I still think that if people continue to wear hydration systems we'll ultimately be born with them. Aero gear scares me for the same reason--it's only a matter of time before somebody somewhere is born with a completely hairless, pointy, faired head.

Don't get me wrong--I'm not a techno-phobe. I'm perfectly fine with the fact that the Internet is becoming our collective memory and consciousness, even if that collective consciousness does contain a disproportionate number of YouTube videos. I guess I'm just fine with the mind changing but not the body. I think that (for the most part) we've got a nice balance of hair and smoothness, and of teeth and no teeth. I just don't want us getting all Pillsbury Doughboy-ish.

Then again, CamelBak may be wisely banking on a Dune-like future. The RaceBak is eerily similar conceptually to the "stillsuit" Kyle McLoughlin wore in the movie, in that both are basically suits filled with water:




Except at least the CamelBak thing doesn't involve drinking your own pee. That could be why Sting opted for the winged codpiece instead:

In any case, I find hydration systems scary no matter which way you look at them. Check this out, from CamelBak's own site:

Like the Klein above, I can't decide of hydration systems are evolution or devolution. All I know is, I'm scared.

Keep Dreaming: From Fantasy to Reality

If you work a traditional Monday-to-Friday work week, you know that Monday can be difficult. Even though I don't have a soul, I think that most people do. I also think that the soul is kind of an amorphous blob but that during the work week many people are forced to cram that blob into the Jell-o mold of structure and pretense, which is why it feels so good to pop out of it for a couple of days. Of course, conversely, it hurts that much more when you have to stuff it back in on Monday. This is especially true for cyclists, who after a couple of days of epic two-wheeled conquests must return to the mold, their legs sore, their appetites raging, and their pride back in check. (Obviously this doesn't hold true for people like messengers, who ride all week long. Or for the unemployed. Then again, what's the difference between the two, really?)

In the spirit of kicking off a weekend of fantasy, this past Friday was PARK(ing) Day. Basically, what this meant was a bunch of people in different cities took over parking spaces and turned them into little temporary parks. (Or, more accurately, just did weird stuff in them.) The idea as I understand it was to help people imagine all the other things you can do on the side of the road besides just leaving cars there, and how much better the world would be if the streets were lined with freaks instead of Hondas.

Frankly, I don't have much of a problem with parking cars in parking spaces (so long as drivers enter them carefully and don't heedlessly fling their doors open into traffic), so I wasn't especially moved by PARK(ing) Day. As far as I'm concerned it's the people who park in the middle of the street that are the real problem. If every driver parked in an actual parking space that would be a tremendous improvement in itself. Unfortunately, in New York City that's not the case, and there is absolutely no place here that a person will not leave a car. It's actually quite common to see someone stop an Escalade in the middle of the street and leave it running with the door open while he runs into a bodega. (In New York, this is an expression of self-importance--it's the motor vehicle equivalent of sitting with your legs wide open and taking up two subway seats.)

Still, though, I suppose I can kind of see the appeal. After all, every day in New York is Bike Lane Appropriation Day. Among the activities taking place in New York City bike lanes this morning were moving into (or perhaps, given the economy, out of) expensive Brooklyn brownstones:


and riding stupid mopeds. (I thought I was being attacked by a lawn edger when this contraption overtook me.)

And as far as stopping your car wherever you want, there was this guy from Jersey, who sat camped out on the divider between Sands Street and the BQE entrance ramp near the Manhattan Bridge while he got directions on his cellphone:

So I'd like to get behind PARK(ing) Day, if only to force people to drink the same swill of liquid annoyance and inconvenience they make us chug every day. Unfortunately, having now viewed the Streetsfilm of PARK(ing) day in New York City, I can find very little around which to rally. In fact, if I'd encountered one of the appropriated parking spaces shown in the film I'd probably have been horrified and made every attempt to get as far away from it as possible. Here are some examples:

Here we have a greenhouse or a nursery or an arboretum or something. I realize a lot of people get tremendously excited around plants for some reason, but in this case I mostly just see a leafy obstruction. It's bad enough I have to worry about getting "doored" all the time; this installation opens up the possibility of getting "planted" as well.

These people took over a parking space up by Columbia University to have a "fancy party." If there's one thing New York has way, way too much of it's overpriced "brunch" spots serving eggs Benedict to hung-over wealthy people. It's also bad enough that many of these establishments don't have the decency to keep their clientele inside and out of sight, and instead set up tables for them to dine on the sidewalk. So the thought of "brunch" actually spilling over past the curb and into the street is almost too sickening to bear. Then again, it is kind of nice to see them in the gutter. Still, though, I'd much rather have streets lined with cars than with rich people dining decadently. At least stray cats can sleep under cars.

Unlike normal entertainers who are actually sought out, street entertainers do stupid things nobody wants to watch, and as such they must perform in crowded public places so people who don't particularly want to be entertained are forced to look at them anyway. And when it comes to people who make you watch what they're doing, jugglers rank just a tiny bit above mimes and flashers. Creating spaces in which jugglers are free to congregate and fling things up into the air publicly instead of in their homes where they belong can only lead to an explosion of mimes, flashers, hacky-sackers, human statues, naked cowboys, and people who drum on buckets that will facilitate New York City's transformation from a cultural capital into a giant liberal arts college campus.

I don't understand tea. I know people say tea is relaxing, or soothing, or healing, but that's not true in my experience. To me, it's just hot water that tastes vaguely like something else. Of course, I realize it's possible this is because I don't have a soul to soothe, but nonetheless I suspect the power of tea is something people believe in just because other people believe it too. Drinking tea is kind of like when you buy a hallucinogen, aren't sure if it's real or not, and sit around waving your hand in front of your face waiting for something to happen. (I think I saw a trail!) If I drink something I like it to have an immediate and irrefutable effect, like liquor does. I suppose there are certain laxative teas that might have an immediate effect, but that's something else entirely. In any case, I wasn't "moved" by the tea party. (Laxative teas notwithstanding.)

As ridiculous as some of the other parking spaces were, at least they didn't involve motor vehicles. I'm not sure what the point of this one is--it just looks like a car wash. Then again, you have to feel compassionate towards the people of Queens, who have been so molested by cars over the years that it's probably impossible for them to conceptualize anything that doesn't involve them somehow. They can't not think about cars. It's sort of like how the theme of death inevitably appears in the films of Ingmar Bergman.

Ah, yes, public meditation. How spiritual. This is perfect in Williamsburg, where you aren't doing something if the rest of the neighborhood can't see you doing it too.

Finally, something I can get behind! This parking space even had an internet connection. That's me waving on the right.

I can also get behind the "Green the Ghetto" concept, though my own green-themed parking spot in Park Slope didn't go over so well. Of course, that might be because I put a different spin on "green." No sooner had I finished setting up my space than my bong was confiscated, my inflatable lounge chair was deflated, and my cable TV hookup was disconnected. (Emboldened by visions of a car-free future I had taken the liberty of splicing into someone's line.) I was right in the middle of "Family Guy" too! Man, those Park Slope mommies can be sooo touchy.

Thank goodness for that free wi-fi over at the Park n' Write, where I spent the rest of the day watching YouTube videos, being green, and partying like it was a Wednesday.

BSNYC Friday Fun Quiz!

Firstly, I have news of great importance for any haters out there.  Please note that you have been granted a temporary reprieve from ball-sucking, as the beloved "All You Haters Suck My Balls" wheel has officially been unlaced:

While the haters may be relieved, the rest of you are surely as distressed as this wheel is de-stressed.  I've been a great fan of this wheel ever since I first laid eyes on it, and it pains me deeply to see the heart quite literally cut out of this once-great rolling statement.  However, I've been assured the owner has future plans for the AYHSMB rim, and I am comforted to know that it will one day roll again.  So we can all breathe easy--though if you're a hater, your days of unobsructed breathing are surely numbered.

And with that said, it is my sadistic pleasure to beset you with a quiz.  As always, read the question, think carefully, and click on your answer.  If you're right, you'll see the item.  If you're wrong, you'll see definitive proof of the presta valve's superiority.

Good luck, and as always thanks for reading.

--BSNYC/RTMS

1) Who said, "I'd rather die pretty than survive with helmet hair"?

--Blake Lively

--BSNYC

--Katie Kilby

--Michael Chiklis

2) The Metal Inquisition blog appreciated the "Metal Rage" alleycat.

--True

--False

3) The above record can be categorized as:

--Grindcore

--Death Metal

--Alterna-sludge with a twist of klezmer

--White

4) Which of the following is not a real piece of advice from an article about knuckle tattoos?

--"If you've got unusually hairy knuckles you might want to think of alternative placement since hair can make knuck tattoos tough to read."

--"It's going to become one of the main features you'll be identified with in society, so make sure you're cool with that."

--"Lettering should always be thought about long and hard, and since lettering is a common knuck tattoo, the display will be front and center and you should make sure the word(s) will last in meaning and significance."

--"You can make a great knuckle tattoo idea look amazing with the right font or lettering choice."

5) Knuckle tattoos are the ultimate when it comes to expressing yourself indelibly on your digits.

--True

--False

6) Which of the following is not an actual bike-buying tip from the Washington Post?

--"The cyclocross is for people who want speed and efficiency but also like to beat up their bikes. These bikes also tend to have racks attached to them for carrying things like a briefcase or a laptop."

--"An ultra-light carbon fiber road bike may be expensive, but it can shave minutes off your daily commute."

--"If you're buying a bike to ride with a group of friends, pick the same type of bike they have."

--"A fixed-gear bike also requires less cash but you have to stop the bike with your feet rather than using a hand brake."

7) BSNYC was recently quoted in which unlikely publication?

--Accent on Cheese

--Quill and Quire

--The Wall Street Journal

--CNBC European Business

8) According to Steve Jobs, what is "the equivalent of a bicycle for our minds"?

--the condor

--the iPhone

--the computer

--the Newton

***Special Bike Security Bonus Question***

What's going on here?

--Someone's using the new Kryptonite keyless lock system

--Someone correctly believes that he and he alone understands the mysterious workings of the quick-release

--The bike belongs to an Amish person, and the Amish are not allowed to use padlocks

--Unless that frame is filled with killer bees, someone's about to lose a bike

Slick and Attired: Wearing Whatever You Want

Yesterday, after viewing the Smart race video, a number of commenters seemed bothered by the fact that I was not only helmetless but that I had also failed to put on my bib shorts completely. Please note that this was simply a calculated and cunning psychological ploy. By showing up at the start line looking as though I could hardly even be bothered to finish getting dressed, I conveyed to my opponent the confidence-destroying impression that my victory was simply a given and that the race was merely a formality. Had I taken the opposite approach and shown up riding a road bike, wearing a full kit and a helmet, and with my legs glistening with embrocation, I would have been beaten before the word "go."

Also, my helmet was at the dry cleaner's.

Of course I realize my choice of attire was even more dangerous than the sum of its parts (or lack of parts), in that I was on a cyclocross bike, and had I attempted a dismount and remount I ran a very real risk of getting my bibs caught on the saddle and crashing head-first onto the pavement. But it was simply a risk I had to take. I was desperate for a win. And without the watchful eyes of USA Cycling or any other governing body upon me, I was free to pursue victory by any means necessary. Had I been offered performance-enhancing drugs prior to the event I would not have hesitated to use them. (As it happened, only recreational drugs were available, and they didn't help.) And in my defense, I think I did at least have a blinky-light on the seatpost which I used for the ride home that night. (It wasn't a "hipster cyst," but it might have been a distant cousin, the "nerd canker.")

Of course, I'm not surprised people were upset about the helmet. (Though I am surprised people thought I was wearing a messenger bag. Look at that thing--it's tiny and it's got a zipper! Unless your job is to deliver VHS tapes one at a time that would be a pretty awful messenger bag.) We live in a time when having a brake on your bike is seen as a matter of personal preference, but not wearing a helmet is considered suicidal and an affront to human decency. Which is not to say that you shouldn't wear a helmet. Obviously it's aways better to wear one than not to wear one, and you really can't go wrong putting one on. But I will say that in some sense a helmet is kind of like a yarmulke (or, if you prefer, a kippah) in that it tells the world you are a member of the Congregation of Safety. And just because you don't wear one all the time doesn't mean you don't believe in safety and should be scorned. Some of us simply choose to worship in our own way when and where we choose, as godless and wrong as it may be. (Sure, the fact that I'm not afraid to ride in traffic without a helmet yet I'm genuinely scared of going through those metal revolving doors in subway stations might mean my perception of danger is a bit skewed, but seriously--you could break a finger in one of those things!)

Moving on, once again I have been fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of free printed matter:

In this case, that matter came in the form of The Ride Journal, and it came all the way from England--a place where "Z"s are "S"es, "parts" are "bits," and Robbie Williams is still famous. It also features a truly impressive array of contributors, as you can see from the table of contents:

I honestly enjoyed this, and I'm grateful to the editors for sending it to me. In the world of bike-related content, there's "bike porn," and then there's "bike erotica." "Bike erotica" is produced by the sorts of people who look at boxes full of greasy bike parts, grow wistful, and start photographing them, and it's consumed by the sorts of people who are similarly moved by such photographs. This is definitely "bike erotica."

This journal is nicely ecumenical in its approach to cycling, but one theme that came up and made me think was that of looking good on the bike. Not looking good in the sense of looking like a Euro-pro, but rather looking good in the sense of being able to wear street clothes comfortably while riding. In particular, in "Velocouture," Patrick Barber points out that up until now in the US cycling style has been driven by sport rather than practicality, since riding here is traditionally seen as a recreational pastime and not as a means of transportation. "In a way," he writes, "thinking about cycling in street clothes requires that you shift your thinking about why you are on your bike. Instead of being in workout mode, you are in going-somewhere-but-want-to-look-good mode: to work, on a date, to the coffee shop." Ultimately, his point is that by being a normal well-dressed person on a bike instead of a peloton refugee in lycra you inspire other people to do the same and to integrate riding into their everyday lives.

I absolutely agree. But I also maintain it's not as simple as that. Sure, you don't need to dress like you're about to start a stage race just to throw a leg over a bike and ride to your friend's house. But you also shouldn't have to feel like you need to dress in "street clothes" if you'd rather ride in cycling-specific attire. Similarly, while some people may be embarrassed to ride their bikes without dressing properly, just as many people are embarrassed to ride their bikes in cycling clothes. Certainly we've all seen the new road bike owner who's got a pair of superfluous baggy shorts on over his cycling shorts because he hasn't yet come to terms with wearing lycra in public. In many ways, cycling is about losing things, and one of the most important things to lose is modesty.

In fact, as a proponent of starting our own Nation of Cyclists, I'm prepared to go so far as to say that it's not we who must shift our thinking--it's "society" that must change! Take the workplace, for example. Hey, if you're doing your job, why should you have to do things like wear pants? If you want to walk into the office directly from a training ride and marinade yourself in your chamois for a little while as you get up to speed instead of changing into your "business casual" attire you should be allowed to do that, however misguided that might be. If you want to wear your "safety kippah" all day long as you stand in front of the copier in order to show your deep commitment to safe cycling you should feel free to do so without discrimination. And if you want to wear your Speed Vest as you navigate a warren of cubicles so your colleagues can see you distributing memos at a brisk 3mph then nobody should be able to tell you to take it off.

Would you demand that the Jew shave his beard, or the Muslim shave his beard, or the the Sikh, uh, shave his beard? Certainly not! Why, then, must the cyclist be divorced from his or her sacred vestements?

I dream of a world in which the lawyer may clomp around the courtroom in SPD-SL-compatible shoes, the dentist may perform root canals while wearing a Serotta jersey, and the investment banker need never remove his Assos. (Actually, I guess these days the investment banker has all day to pedal around in his Assos.) I long for a day when muddy-faced mountain bikers can report to work while wearing Primal jerseys and CamelBaks. And I staunchly support the fixter's right to wear a hoodie at all times, even during those rare occasions when he bathes.

Just don't ever wear armwarmers with a sleeveless jersey. That's just wrong.

This Just In: BSNYC Wins a Race!

Firstly, since I'm no longer commenting in the comments section (for the time being anyway) I'd like to address by far the most contentious issue to arise from yesterday's post about the metal-themed roadkill debacle. And that issue is, of course, the fact that I mentioned the band Morbid Angel in the context of grindcore, which seemed to upset a number of people. Yes, obviously Morbid Angel is a death metal band, but they started out on Earache records and came to many people's awareness when they were included on the pivotal Grindcrusher compilation. This was a time when grindcore and death metal bands were adopting aspects of each-other's sounds, and it's an epoch in musical history which, sadly and embarrassingly, I'm all too familiar with. As such, grindcore is an important part of their success (it was, in a sense, their EPO) even if they're not a grindcore band, which, I think, was my point.

Anyway, enough of that crap. This blog is about cycling, and this post is about me. Recently, a car magazine called 0-60 challenged me to a bike-vs-car race. I immediately accepted (and by "immediately" I mean eventually) since this race would give me the opportunity to realize my two biggest dreams: redeeming myself after my loss in the Great NYC Commuter Race to Jamie Favaro; and dominating a Smart car:

Yes, that's right. I raced against a Smart from Greenpoint, Brooklyn to Madison Square Park in Manhattan and I won. Forgive me for gloating, but the last time I won anything on a bicycle the bike had 20-inch wheels. I even borrowed some guy's pit bike so I could experience the thrill of victory on a cyclocross bike, which of all the bicycles out there is the type on which I am least likely to ever win anything.

Sure, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Big deal. Bikes are always faster than cars in the city." Well, that's not always true. 0-60 attempted to sandbag me by starting the race right by the entrance to the Midtown Tunnel. Meanwhile, I had to take the Williamsburg Bridge, which added like a half a mile to my route. That might not sound like much, but it is when you're as slow as I am. And not only did I dominate (and by "dominate" I mean I won by a small margin) but the bike also humped the Smart car. Note the obscene crankal position:

I also got the RTMS visage onto the contributor page, sandwiched between a couple of car nerds:

But perhaps best of all, you too can experience what it's like to win a race against a tiny car, because there's a video. That's right--actual video, complete with inspirational soundtrack. So thanks to the guys at 0-60, and to the miracle of handlebar-mounted camera technology, you can see for yourself just how slow I am.

So enjoy the video, and check out the latest issue of 0-60 for the race report (though I'm guessing most of you have it anyway, since if you're reading this blog you're probably also in the market for an Aston Martin):

Anyway, many thanks to Brian Scotto and the guys at 0-60 for the fun opportunity. And if for some reason you're offended I contributed to a car magazine or something, I'll just say that when you suck as bad as I do you go wherever you have to in order to win. I was this close to contacting The Lion Roars to see if I could race against a Lionel train.

Urban Alienation: Cultural Carnage and Alleycats

We live in trying times. Hurricane Ike has pulverized Texas. Wall Street is in turmoil. And, most horrific of all, the New Kids On The Block are preparing for their reunion tour.

It's no wonder then that so many of us choose to bury our heads in the proverbial sand of cycling. I certainly do. It's far easier to live in a world where "tragic" means a really ugly fixed-gear conversion and "scandal" means your favorite rider has just tested positive for EPO. That's why when something enters the world of cycling that forces me to look beyond it and contemplate the larger issues I become especially angry. Like a child shut in his bedroom listening to music, I dread that moment when someone pounds on the door and tells me to turn it off and get to work.

The latest knock at the door came yesterday, in the form of an alleycat:

I'd seen this particular one advertised on the various bike blogs for quite awhile now. Apart from briefly sighing to lament the tiresome formula of pop culture appropriation to which all these alleycats seem to adhere (in this case it was the re-working of the Morbid Angel logo) I really didn't think anything of it. By the way, if you don't know what an alleycat is, it's something that used to be a messenger race, then became a race for people who copy messengers, and then became a race for people who copy people who copy messengers. And if you don't know who Morbid Angel are, they're a band. For every genre of music, there's a band that officially carves out the heart of that genre, discards it, and dances around in the carcass campily like Buffalo Bill from "Silence of the Lambs." Morbid Angel were that band for the subgenre of a subgenre called "grindcore," and they excised from it any social consciousness bands like Napalm Death may have had, slipped on the carcass of screaming and speed like a stage costume, and very successfully upped the ante of metal idiocy.

At any rate, I didn't give much thought to the "Metal Rage" alleycat, until I was checking in with trackosaurusrex (home of the exclamation point!) and saw this:

Clearly this wasn't just another contrived alleycat with a cutesy theme. This was full-bore, white-knuckle, hunched-over-the-neck-of-the-guitar, hair-swinging, cock-rocking stupidity. Aghast, I followed the link to the report, and learned this:

At each checkpoint you had to do a task like sign the manifest in your own real blood, bring roadkill, shotgun a beer, get slapped by a groupie, be anointed with fake blood and let all but 30 psi out of your tire.

I also read this comment from a participant on one of the sponsor's sites:

Jack’s arm looked so fucking nasty. I watched it happen to. They gave us razor blades and said “cut yourself” and Jack pulled some fucking suicidal shit. His arm split open and he screamed…

I listened to Bathory and Dissectiont the whole night.

Now, as I mentioned, I was aghast. And the reason for my aghastation (sure, why not?) wasn't the theme, or the makeup, or the clothes. It wasn't even the idea of people cutting themselves open for what is essentially a big Easter Egg hunt. I mean, sure, all those things were pretty stupid, but that's not what was bugging me. It was the dead animals. I kept going back to the pictures of the dead animals.

I'm the first to admit that I'm a simpering wussbag when it comes to animals. I can't even watch a dog food commercial without getting emotional. And forget Animal Planet--all it takes is one story of a cat with cancer or something to bring me to my knees as I press my hands together and beg of the heavens, "Why? Dear God, why!?!" But still, I do have some perspective on it. I realize at least part of the reason for my extreme sensitivity in this area is because I'm so insensitive in others, and that I've sort of unevenly focussed all my compassion on the animal kingdom. I guess that's why I can shrug my shoulders at a person in distress, but if I see a pigeon with a limp or something I need to go have a drink. I also realize that I come from a place where the death of animals is not a part of my day-to-day life. Maybe if I'd grown up on a farm or something and chicken decapitations were as commonplace as mail delivery I'd see things a little differently.

Still, I think no matter where you are on the animal sensitivity spectrum, pictures like these should at least raise an eyebrow. I couldn't help wondering if at least some of the "roadkill" hadn't been alive before these people go their hands on it. (In fact, I have reason to believe this may indeed be the case.) And even if none of the "roadkill" had been killed by the participants, surely when a group of grown men are riding around New York City playing with bloody animals it is symptomatic of something in the "bike culture" that goes beyond simple stupidity. Here's another picture from the flickr page linked to on the trackosaurusrex site:

I've taken the liberty of annotating this particular photo in order to draw attention to the bloodied animal, the depraved expression, and the torso in dire need of a manssiere.

And here's a closer look at one of the photos from above:

I suppose if I heard about a bunch of 14-year-old kids in rural Kansas riding around doing something like this I might understand it. I've been to rural Kansas, and while it certainly has a certain beauty I could also imagine it breeding a certain restlessness and destructive boredom in an adolescent hungry for social and intellectual stimulation. However, it's much harder to understand something like this when the participants are a bunch of adults in one of the cultural capitals of the world, who have thousands of dollars of high-end bicycle equipment, and, at least in some cases, also have expensive educations and white-collar office jobs as well as access to all the socially and intellectually stimulating pursuits those assets afford them.

Could they not think of anything better to do with their bikes or themselves? Moreover, if any of these people actually have romantic partners, what kind of exchanges did they have with theirs the next morning?

"What did you do last night, honey?"

"A few of us stopped by an art gallery. Then we had dinner, talked for awhile, and saw a really great show. What did you do?"

"I pulled the wing off a dead pigeon, shotgunned a beer, and wrote my name in blood."

Then again, I guess I shouldn't be surprised when people choose the stupid route. If you want to race your bike, why should you enter an actual race? Those are hard, and sometimes require you to get up early. Why not do an alleycat instead? And if you want to have a visceral experience, why go hunting or fishing? That would require you to think, and to learn something, and to deal with the consequences of taking a life. Plus, you can't really do it while dressed as your favorite Norwegian black metal hero. Indeed, you can only sit in your office in front of you iMac for so long before you feel the desperate need to legitimize your brand-new knuckle tattoos by wrapping them around a bloody animal while dressed as the people who live the lives which you covet yet of which you are also afraid.

I hope I'm wrong in my suspicion that any animal, no matter how low on the food chain, might have been killed just for an alleycat. But even if I am wrong, I think a bunch of yuppies riding around playing with roadkill represents a new low. I'd love to see some comments from the participants, who can perhaps show me that I'm overreacting and can prove me wrong on all counts. I mean, I must be, right? After all King Kog, home of the vegan toe straps, was one of the sponsors.

Oh well, I'm glad all the frat boys are still managing to have fun after graduation.

Hard Times: Valuating the Cultural Currency of Cycling

So the economy is apparently imploding, or exploding, or some other kind of ploding. (I don't know, I'm not an economist.) The used bicycle market is also in turmoil. There are no Bianchi Pistas currently on the market in NYC, and people are doubtless holding on to them to see where all this is going. So while it's impossible to say where the PistaDex stands at this moment, one trader is willing to pay $400. That's pretty low, but the bottom certainly hasn't fallen out yet, and I for one refuse to panic.

Indeed, it is extremely important to remain optimistic in these trying times. Sure, we may start to see Pista prices fall across the board. And yes, we may no longer be able to count on our track bikes actually increasing in value as we own them. But we can always hope that if things do get ugly the government will step in. Perhaps they can offer generous tax deductions to Pista owners for "improvements" such as Aerospokes, Phil Wood bottom brackets, and Chris King headsets. And perhaps they can also offer mileage disincentives, so that these riders are discouraged from riding their Pistas and as such keep them in the "like new, barely ridden" state so cherished by buyers.

Moreover, I maintain that while the PistaDex may dip in the coming weeks overall the cultural currency of cycling will remain strong. In fact, now is a better time than ever to diversify your cycling investments into other areas. Sure, you might want to avoid things like alleycat manifest holders right now, but there are extremely positive indicators in other sectors of the cyclonomy. For example, it hardly warrants mentioning that Lance Armstrong is coming back for another stab at the Dauphiné Libéré, and that's going to result in massive spikes in sales of Dura Ace-equipped Madones, black half-shorts, helmet mirrors, and threadless stem risers. Also, let's not forget that while cycling is expensive to regular people it's actually a bargain for wealthy people, so you can expect more and more of them to pick it up as their fortunes dip slightly and they put more expensive hobbies like dirigible racing on hold. And where you have wealthy people, you have triathlons:

Here we see the guy from "Boys on the Side" getting ready for some tri training in the tailgate of his SUV. Now I realize the caption says he's training for a decathlon, but I'm going to assume that's a mistake since I don't think decathlons have cycling in them. Also, while it may look like McConaughey is removing his mandal in order to put on a cycling shoe, it's actually the other way around, as everybody knows he loves training in thongs (he sports them both on his feet and under his cycling shorts) and only wears his cycling shoes while driving.

Sure, I know I've said some harsh things about triathletes in the past. (Like how they can't handle their bikes, or shift their bikes, or really do much of anything with their bikes except clumbsily nagivate them to the place where they have to go to change their shoes like a bunch of bikini-clad Mr. Rogerses.) But again, in times like these we have to stick together. I'm not going to look at triathlons as a few miles of spazztic cycling sandwiched between the twin evils of swimming and running. Instead, I'm going to look at them as a stealthy method of delivery by which cycling can sneak itself into the cultural bloodstream like a water-borne illness. And maybe if more celebrities get the bug it will also trickle down to the people who mindlessly emulate them.

Sure, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Who the hell is emulating Matthew McConaughey?" Well, if that's not enough celebrity for you, what about Jennifer Lopez?

That's right, Jennifer Lopez is putting the proverbial hammer down for charity. This makes me happy. It even looks like she was able to get her feet into the pedals quicker than her competitors. And perhaps most touching, she had the consideration to wear a loose-fitting garment so as not to drive any nearby Hasidim mad with animal lust.

But it's not all about triathlons, so don't go pitching your Pista quite yet. Fixed-gears still have enough cultural cachet to figure into a Japanese iPhone commercial, as forwarded by a reader:

Sure, I realize many of you live in the United States, but if you do this indicates that there is still an international market for your Pista, which coupled with the weak dollar may very well work to your advantage should you need to liquidate your supply.

And if nothing else, this also underscores the importance of staying up on the trends. It's absolutely crucial to know who wants what and where they are at any given moment if you want to sell your bike at top dollar. And staying up on bike trends is about more than just looking at cycling. It's also important to look at the trends that cross over into cycling. And one of those trends, as we saw recently, is knuckle tattoos.

Well, it would appear that knuckle tattoos are the fixed-gear bicycles of the body art world, in that they've been around a long time and they used to be pretty bold things to have, but suddenly everybody wants one, and when they finally get them they look pretty funny. The very same reader who alterted me to the "Nobr Akes" tattoo has also turned me on to knuckletattoos.com, which is sort of the fixedgeargallery of knuckle tattoos and is my new favorite website. Here are some highlights:

There is no way you'll ever regret having internet slang tattooed on your knuckles. Imagine these hands gently caressing the visage of a lover.



It took me a really long time to figure this one out. I thought it said "Slag Calm," which didn't make sense. Then I thought maybe it was a typo and should have said "Slag Clam," which could refer to the female reproductive organ of a promiscuous woman. Finally, though, I actually read the caption, and learned it said "Stay Calm," and that did indeed relax me.


Ah yes, the under-the-finger reverse knuckle tattoo. It's the left-hand drive crank setup of the knuckle tattoo world.

I thought these were the hands of a dieter and it said "Live Lite," but it actually says "Live Life."

So taken was I with all of these fine knuckle tattoos, and so much did I want to become part of this new fashion phenomenon, that I racked my brain in order to come up with my own eight-letter sentiment. I considered and dismissed such possibilities as "Trek Bike," "Pack Fill," and "Twob Rake." Finally, though, it hit me. The perfect eight-knuckle chuckle was hidden right under my nose:



Of course, I wanted to see how it would look first, so I tested it out on a sepia-toned model. Notice the "NY" and the "C" on the thumbs. Not only is it a sin to waste digits, but it's also important to differentiate myself from all the other Bike Snobs out there. I'm thinking I may go for it. Those hands would look badass wrapped around a pair of Ourys.

Comfy Chairs: Riding and Reading

Bike lanes are a contentious issue in the earnest and dorky world of bicycle advocacy. Some people feel that safe and protected bike lanes are the key to getting more people cycling. Others feel bike lanes are dangerous places to ride, and simply lull riders into a false sense of security when they should instead be asserting their right to the road. Still others feel that bike lanes are an insidious conspiracy of the oil and auto industries, and that they're really just "fly strips for cyclists" designed to lure them to a place where they can be easily doored, stuffed in trunks, and driven to labor camps where they are then forced to melt down their own bicycles and use the metal build replacement doors for cars.

Personally, I like bike lanes. Not because I think they work especially well, but because I think they're symbols of respect. I like that someone has to go out there and paint little pictures of bicycles all over the city for me. So when people park in the bike lane (or stroll in the bike lane, or ride skateboards in the bike lane, or allow their Cocker Spaniels to relieve themselves in the bike lane) I don't get angry because they're inconveniencing me. I'm more than capable of riding among the cars, and often do. No, I get angry in the same way Archie Bunker used to get angry when Meathead would sit in his special chair. I deal with enough crap as a cyclist, and the least the DOT can do is give me my special chair and make municipal employees fluff the pillows for me every so often by freshening the paint and filling the potholes. And when someone's in my special chair I get really annoyed. Sure, I could go sit somewhere else, but I don't want to! Get the hell out of my chair, Meathead!

Of course, as you may have seen on Gothamist or in the New York Post, some people don't want us to have a nice comfy chair, especially when we lounge in that chair in our metaphorical underpants. Indeed, it seems as though the Hasids of Williamsburg are upset about the fact that scantily-clad female cyclists are pedaling up and down the bike lanes that pass through their neighborhood, consequently driving these pious, scholarly gentlemen mad with lust and distracting them from the Talmud. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Where are these bike lanes exactly, and will the Hasidic community also object if I bring my own comfy chair, place it on the sidewalk, and sip mint juleps as I watch this skin show on wheels?"

Well, firstly, it's important to keep in mind that if you're not a member of an ultra-Orthodox religious group you're probably not going to find the display quite as provocative as the Hasids apparently do. (If you're Amish though your head might explode.) Secondly, while it's tempting to say that it's ridiculous for the Hasids to expect the rest of the world to conform to their beliefs and sensibilities, it is important to understand their predicament. For years, they have only had to deal with normal urban sexual temptations, like salacious advertisements, street-walking prostitues, and scantily-clad women dancing seductively in wet t-shirts to salsa music next to open fire hydrants on sultry, hot summer days. Now all of a sudden they've got to deal with the relatively new phenomenon of "hipster" Williamsburg as well, including its concomitant pale-skinned, tattooed, undernourished cyclists on their fixed-gears and old crappy 10 speeds.

Fortunately, I think I can act as an intermediary between these two communities. While I think the Hasids are certainly wrong to oppose bike lanes, I also think it's important for "hipster" Williamsburg to finally begin respecting its neighbors. So I call upon you, "hipsterim" (for lack of a better word) to incorporate some Hasidic wisdom into your own culture, meet with the local Rabbis, and create "Hipster Eruvin." Essentially, this will involve roping off certain sections of the neighborhood in which it will be permissible for you to cycle around in your depraved, lustful, and sensual hoodies, black jeans, and studded belts so that the men of the community might finally bring the raging fires in their loins under control.

(And before anyone out there starts making assumptions about my heritage, just remember you don't have to be Jewish to have read "The Yiddish Policemen's Union.")

In the meantime, as we all know, a good way to cover up a little skin is with a hanky, and as you might remember a certain clothing company sent me a rather expensive one not too long ago. To be honest, before I posted it, I didn't realize how expensive it actually was. Nor, to be even more honest, did I actually think people might actually want it. I sort of felt like Jerry Seinfeld in the "Puffy Shirt" episode. "These? They're making these?!?" But amazingly, people do want it, because the guy at trackosaurusrex is "totally feeling it:"


It's not too often you find yourself having something someone else wants. Now I know how those girls in the Wythe Street bike lane feel--except in this case it's just a blogger lusting after my scarf, and not a Hasidic man lusting after my body. In any case, trackosaurusrex, drop me a line. I may be able to make your dreams come true. I'm thinking I'll give it the "Pista treatment" and let it go for $5 less than full retail. And apart from putting it on once for the photo (and also making a highly recalcitrant dog wear it for a second) it hasn't even been worn. Trust me.

Speaking of free stuff, since the whole hanky thing it's come to my attention that some people think companies actually send me things. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, it's the opposite--companies seem to want to keep their products away from me for fear that I might incinerate them with my gaze or something. Sure, someone recently offered to send me some kind of unguent to evaluate, but I declined. (I have a strict and, to my mind, quite sensible policy of not testing mysterious creams.) So when the people at VeloPress actually offered to send me a book for free and assured me it was not made out of cream I gladly accepted:

If this were a bike part or a piece of clothing or something I probably wouldn't mention it outside of the context of ridicule, but this is a book written by a former pro racer about his time racing in Europe. Writing is hard, and racing is hard, and both can be thankless. So I have no problem thanking Joe Parkin for writing a sordid, funny, and engrossing book which I thoroughly enjoyed, nor with recommending it to anyone who wants to read a book about the underbelly of pro bike racing in the 80s. In the book, Parkin compares racing in Belgium to punk rock, and it's an apt comparison to this book as well--and I mean that in the best possible way, and not in the "Good Charlotte" way.

Just make sure if you do read it you do so in an actual comfy chair and not in the bike lane.

Ride safe this weekend,


--BSNYC/RTMS

The Indignity of Commuting by Bicycle: Death

Yesterday, on my morning commute, I made one of my usual turns and encountered a police officer as well as a strip of yellow tape. The street was closed to traffic. As many New York City cyclists know, this can be a confusing moment. Although you're legally supposed to follow the same rules as any other vehicle operator, in practice sometimes you can do whatever you want and sometimes you can't. You inhabit a strange middle ground. You can run a thousand reds in front of a thousand police cars, then one day you'll suddenly get a ticket. Similarly, when a street is closed, sometimes they'll expect you to take a different route, and sometimes they'll let you slip right on through. I slipped right on through.

At the next corner I discovered the reason for the street closure. There was a road bike lying on the pavement right behind an empty school bus and just next to a nail polish red pool of blood. If the blood had been wine it would have been enough to get you pretty drunk. I'm not one to linger at accident scenes, and I'm definitely not one to take pictures of them, but I did ask a nearby officer what had happened. "Accident," he replied without looking at me. In my experience that's how police usually respond when someone's died. I cringed a little and went on my way.

While I thought about the blood for the rest of my commute, I didn't try to find out what had happened, and as the day wore on I forgot about it. In fact I didn't think about it again until this morning as I rode through Prospect Park, and happened upon this scene right around the spot where I had my transcendent ride among the geese:

You have to feel a little sorry for monks, because they can't do anything normal without it seeming either spiritually significant or ironic to a bystander. He was probably just calling the dry cleaner to see if his spare robes were ready, but to me the sight of a monk on a cellphone seemed simultaneously profound and funny, as if he were on a hotline to enlightenment. As I contemplated this, I suddenly remembered the blood from yesterday. Not the bike, not the bus, just the blood. Morbidly, I wondered if any of it was still there.

Approaching the corner, I saw some people pondering a lamp post, and as I got closer I saw the cheap deli flowers, so I knew someone had in fact died yesterday:

I asked the people if they knew how the accident had happened. They were mostly useless and doled out an ignorant pudding of speculation and opinion, but it seemed like the cyclist had made a right turn at the intersection, maybe at high speed, and hit the bus. Before I left I took a photo of the sign by the flowers, to which someone had added a pointless message in black ballpoint pen which read "Imagine no cars":

I wasn't sure what that had to do with anything. It seemed to me the problem here was not with cars but with bicycles and school buses, two things I think most of us agree are useful and necessary, despite the fact that they may have come together disastrously in this particular instance. Personally, I feel the only thing more depressing than a makeshift roadside memorial is a pointless and simplistic faux-John Lennon sentiment riding piggyback on a makeshift roadside memorial. It's sort of like going down to Ground Zero and spraypainting "Airplanes Suck." Speaking of spraypainting, I'm sure someone's preparing a ghost bike as I type this. As I've said before, if I were to make a premature exit via bicycle I would never want a ghost bike. (Though I must admit the idea of a Scattante Empire State Single Speed ghost bike is oddly appealing to me.)

In any case, for the second morning in a row I found myself contemplating blood and death during my commute. I also thought about the middle ground cyclists occupy as I mentioned earlier, and how it extends well beyond law enforcement. As a human being you're never really all that far from death no matter what you're doing, but when you're on a bicycle you're especially close. When I'm on a bike I think of death as a membrane so thin you can't see it because when all is going well you're looking at it from the invisibly narrow side, not the all-encompassingly wide side. But when things go awry, and a series of decisions and coincidences sends you directly towards it, it's all you can see. And the death membrane has extraordinary wicking properties, so sometimes all you need to do is touch it in order to wind up on the other side of it in a puff of vapor like an evaporating bead of sweat.

We all behave a little differently in this precarious middle ground, too. Some of us ride cautiously, and some of us ride recklessly. Some of us obey all the rules but without that extra level of comprehension that allows you to make a decision when the rules no longer apply, and some of us disobey the rules but have the intuition and experience to successfully slip through unharmed. And some of us just ride blithely along, waving our hands in the air as we ride our wobbly bikes over bumpy expansion joints on the Manhattan Bridge, avoiding tragedy simply by dumb luck like Mr. Magoo wandering through a construction site:

As I rode behind that last rider this morning, I realized it's this sort of disregard that can be most infuriating. For those of us who respect death because we know on some level that we ride with it every day, it can be frustrating to watch people who don't seem to know it rides right beside them. Perhaps that's even why some of us favor a certain austerity when it comes to our bikes and our attire. Sure, it's important not to take cycling and life too seriously, but at the same time tragedy is all the more tragic when the victim looks ridiculous. (Walking into a room full of dead bodies is one thing; walking into a room full of dead bodies in clown suits is something else entirely.) Yet perhaps most infuriating of all is that one can take every precaution one can and still meet with disaster, yet the salmon chatting on the phone with a shopping bag full of $300 jeans hanging off the handlebars will live to ride another day and smoke yet another pack of American Spirits.

Then again, whether you fear death, respect it, or ignore it, it's always there. One second you're riding along with the flow:

And the next thing you know traffic, circumstances, and fate align themselves in such a way that there's nothing between you and the great tacky tinsel-festooned afterlife except an invisible soul-wicking membrane:

I don't know the story behind yesterday's accident, and to be perfectly honest I haven't been compelled to find out. I'm just going to do my best to keep on this side of the membrane for a little while longer. I hate street fairs.

No Money Mo Problems: Involuntary Collabos

Though the minor inconveniences and stylistic transgressions that surround me often render me apoplectic, when it comes to the larger issues of life I do my best to remain in a state of contemplation and reflection. I often find that in the face of difficulty a simple shrug and a beatific smile are enough to make the difficulty go away--mostly because when you shrug and smile beatifically people think you're intellectually disabled. (It's difficult to, say, collect on an outstanding debt when the debtor cannot even comprehend the concept of debt and simply stares back at you smiling and drooling.) Even when I'm beset with problems related to this blog, I try to embrace them since they're simply problems born of the fact that people are actually reading the blog, and as such are what one might call "good problems." (Like Chris Carmichael had a "good problem" when he had to decide between epic rides in yesterday's post, or when he has to choose which Serotta to ride once he's decided on an epic ride, or when he has to try to wipe his own self-satisfied smile off his face while he's taking that ride so he doesn't get bugs in his mouth.) So sure, I can't post in my own comments section anymore because someone's posting comments as me. And sure, there are people who make a point of posting disparaging comments about me on a daily basis like someone walking into a cheese shop and then complaining loudly about "that cheesy smell." But hate is simply an extreme form of love, and is in all cases better than indifference, so I figure if I can engender that type of passion from somebody by simply sitting around typing in my underpants then I must be doing something right.

Still, even my glassy-eyed, slack-jawed, dribbling resolve was challenged when a reader forwarded me one of the latest Scattante bicycles. If you're unaware of Scattante, let me just explain that it's neither something to do with jazz singing nor something to do with sex acts involving going to the bathroom. Scattante is in fact a house brand of Performance Bike that is meant to sound all Italianate, sort of like Tazo tea is a house brand of Starbucks that is supposed to sound all Eastern and mystical. Well, like any line of bicycles Scattante attempts to create models that reflect the tastes and interests of today's riders. But unlike normal bicycle lines, which generally do so in a slick, smarmy, and sort of insidious way, Scattante do it in a clunky, goofy, obvious way. I'm guessing part of the reason for this is that instead of copying what riders are doing to their own bikes, Performance/Scattante is copying the other bike companies' copies of what riders are doing to their own bikes, so it's at best a second-generation facsimile. And it looks like the latest bike they're copying is the Specialized Langster:



This bike will allow you to fly across town or campus in the simple, elegant style that only a single speed road bike allows. It’s a little known fact that when William of Ockham developed his theory of simplicity, he was dreaming about a white single speed road bike.

See? They're even doing city-specific bikes. However, I'm not sure which city is "Liberty City," and when I plugged it into a popular search engine (Dogpile--what else is there?!?) the best I could come up with was that it's the city from "Grand Theft Auto." I also had to popular search engine William of Ockham (remember, I'm intellectually disabled). It turns out he's the guy behind Occam's Razor, which was the world's first disposable razor and which revolutionized the entire depilatory world. (Thank you, Dogpile! Accurate as always.) Clearly, with their references to smart people and college campuses, they are marketing this bike to smart people, a demographic of which I am surely not a part. Fortunately, though, they've got other models for other cities, so it stands to reason I can find a bike which speaks to me.



Single speed road style finally jumps the shark with the Liberty City Courier bike from Scattante. The curved bullhorn handlebars save you from having to “flop and chop” anything while allowing you to travel in a more upright position, saving your back while keeping you stylish.

Hmmm, getting closer. I got the "jumps the shark" reference and I didn't even have to popular search engine it! I also didn't have to popular search engine "Windy City," which everybody of course knows is Cleveland. However, I was still confused. Firstly, why is the bike called the "Windy City" but the copy says it's the "Liberty City?" Secondly, why would Performance/Scattante (Perttante?) sell a bike by saying that it's jumped the shark? To me, this either indicates that they don't fully understand the phrase, or more intriguingly that they do understand the phrase and are being extremely honest and self-deprecating. (And if it's the latter, then they have my respect.) But then there was this:

Looking for a sure-fire way to lower the pistadex? Ditch your old bike on craigslist to make room for the new Empire State Courier from Scattante! Watch your friends marvel at the clear-coat over raw steel industrial look of this simple yet effective single speed road bike. The riser handlebars make for a comfortable and stylish bike just begging to be taken out for a little fixed gear freestylin’.

I was now officially freaked out. Awhile back when I noticed that someone had started PistaDex.com I said I felt like I had gotten up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and found a stranger sitting on my toilet. Finding the term being used by Performance was also strange, but in this case it was more like throwing out a pair of underwear and then a few weeks later getting stuck behind some fixter on the Williamsburg Bridge and noticing that he's wearing them. Similarly disturbing was the appearance of the term "fixed gear freestylin'," though I suppose it is appropriate since it officially replaced "track bike" at the Cycling Summit almost a year ago. And interestingly, instead of naming this bike after a city, Perttante named it after all of New York State, though it does have a skyline on the top tube that appears to be either Albany or Schenectady, or perhaps even the twin cities of Troy and Watervliet.

As distressed as I was to see that I had been incorporated into Perttante's take on the "fixed-gear freestyler" though I decided I should look upon it as a "good problem." Apparently a large company thinks my words have the ability to help them sell bicycles, and clearly they recognize my integrity because they certainly didn't insult me by offering to give me any credit in return. And isn't appropriation without acknowledgment the highest form of respect? They also have as much respect for their customers as they have for me, since they've gone so far as to actually manifest a joke from this blog in bicycle form and sell it to people for $599.99.

So I guess I've officially done a "collabo," albeit totally unwittingly. And I guess by mentioning it here I've collaborated even further. Oh, well, it's a good problem to have--even though I still feel kind of dirty. I'm now going to take a searing hot shower and scrub myself clean with a wire brush.

So What Now? Coaching and the End of Summer

On the surface, it might appear that cycling is simple. But nothing could be farther from the truth. The world of cycling is vast and confusing, and as such sometimes people need to pay other people to tell them how, when, and where to ride their bikes. These other people are called "coaches." So with the summer drawing to a close, it would make sense that riders everywhere are asking the question, "What now?" And their coaches are more than happy to tell them.

I myself have consulted two coaches, Chris Carmichael and Matt Shriver, by reading their recent columns in Bicycling and VeloNews respectively. (Fortunately for the clueless, there is such a thing as free advice.) Both had interesting yet differing opinions on what to do now that summer is drawing to a close. Here's what they had to say:


(CC) Now that I have the sub-nine-hour Leadville 100 monkey off my back, I'm suddenly in need of something new to set my sights on. ...I know myself well enough to know I'll get restless if I don't set some goals for the late summer, fall and winter.

Hmmm, when I get restless I just ride my bike. I don't really need goals to do that. I could understand not wanting to play soccer without goals, since then you're just kicking a ball around a field, but cycling without goals works just fine. In fact, cycling with goals is a problem. Because then you have bike polo, and no coach no matter how crazy would tell a person to do something that stupid.

(MS) The dog days of summer are over, the days are getting much shorter and the road and mountain bike racing events are few and far between. ... Yes, it is important to take a break from structured training and racing, but rather than completely racking your bike for the fall months and watching college football, hang on to some of that fitness and avoid losing what you have gained.

Ah yes, the "use it or lose it" approach to cycling. It's a sin to let go of your fitness, even if you don't really need it, yet it's also a sin to ride your bike outside of training and racing, because as everybody knows that's called "junk miles." This is a telling glimpse into the mind of the roadie, who is always the width of a chamois away from ditching the bike and embracing his inner jock by watching organized ball sports, and who must constantly trick himself into riding his bicycle.

(CC) Fortunately, I live in Colorado, and August through October is the perfect season for cycling in the high country. ... And so, I've decided on a very simple late-summer plan: I'm going daytripping.

Now that I did not expect. I was sure he'd be on to whatever this season's trendy cross-training technique is. (Word is that this winter it's all about caber tossing in order to build core strength.) I didn't even know "daytripping" counted as a goal. I thought it was just "junk miles!" Intriguing.

(MS) The fall air and shorter days mark the commencement of another cyclocross season. Become part of the fastest growing division of cycling and have fun on your bike year round!

Hey, I love fun and I love being part of trends! I've also heard of cyclocross. That's the one that has running, but not stupid running like triathlons, right? Sign me up! Do I get to buy a new bike?

(CC) There are a lot of racers and cycling enthusiasts out there like me: folks who finished up their main goals for the season and still have a lot of great fitness they can put to use.

So basically, Chris, you're saying fitness is like when you're in a foreign country and you have a pocket full of local currency with only two hours before your flight home, so you've got to squander it on crap before you leave? I guess I can relate.

(MS) Whether you plan on competing in multiple back to back 'cross racing weekends or just want to attend some fun group rides and maintain fitness, focusing on some key elements will help you get the most out of your cyclocross season and prepare you for your upcoming road or mountain bike endeavors.

Wait, what's this about "focusing on some key elements?" I thought this was about having fun! I don't want to "prepare" for my "upcoming road or mountain bike endeavors." I know I've said I believe in living in the future, but for some reason when I hear you say it it just sounds scary. I'm looking for excuses, not excellence.

(CC) The best part about these post-goal rides is that there's no pressure. You have the fitness to go fast, and the freedom to stop and admire the view - or add another 30 miles if you feel like riding some more before you finish up for the day. If this sounds like you, go ahead and map out some great day trips in the next six weeks. Summer has been great, but it's not going to last much longer, so don't let these precious warm-weather weekends pass you by.

You always kind of freaked me out, but right now you're making sense to me. Which freaks me out in a different way--kind of like when you listen to a Scientologist and you catch yourself thinking, "Hey, maybe there's something to it." Too bad I live in New York City, which is a total craphole, and not in Colorado like you do.

(MS) Once you feel rested and have had that cabin fever like itch or desire to get back on the bike, it is time to begin your cyclocross specific training. This is a transition period back into a structured training regime and it is important to ease back into it.

Translation: now that you've decided to have fun, it's time to begin the highly structured and rigorous process of engaging in that fun.

(CC) Where am I going? Well, I don't have all my trips figured out, but I'm definitely going to spend some time riding with Lance Armstrong in Aspen, and I'm working on expanding some of my ride-trips to include some camping with my kids and some out-of-town time with my whole family.

What?!? Riding with Lance Armstrong? Then the comeback rumors must be true! Maybe now VeloNews can publish an article that actually names a source.

(MS) Start with some base building... running... run two or three times in your first week... running... running fitness...

I don't like running.

(CC) ...a couple of the places I want to hit are: Monarch Crest Trail... Kenosha Pass-to-Breckenridge... Buena Vista-to-Crested Butte...

Well doesn't that sound nice. Are any of those places near my craphole? I didn't think so.

(MS) Your routine should at minimum address your back muscles, your lower abdomen, internal oblique's, hip flexors, and your upper body as well.

What's with all the chiropractor jargon? I don't even know what those things are. I thought this was about riding bikes.

(CC) ...Independence Pass... My biggest question is whether I should ride the pass into Aspen at the beginning of a nice weekend with my family, or end a nice weekend with my family by riding the pass out of town (and having them pick me up in Twin Lakes).

Oh, gee, Chris, however will you decide? I get to decide things like, "Should I ride through the gauntlet of Manhattan, over the George Washington Bridge, and into the sweaty crotch that is New Jersey, or should I ride through Brooklyn and Queens and onto the vast springboard to nowhere that is Long Island? Or maybe I'll drag my bike to some vacant lot in the suburbs and do some 'mountain biking'." Though I see you're right about the goal thing. I'm setting a cycling goal right now, and that is to move the hell out of New York.

(MS) Adding the weights portion will require more time to complete the workout session as well as proper weights phases, beginning with the Anatomical Adaptation phase and progressing from there.

Are you still talking?

(CC) I suppose I could do both...

Good for you.

(MS) ... sloppy mud, long run ups, double sets of barriers...

You know what? I think you just talked me out of this whole 'cross thing.

This Just In: Big News in Pro Cycling!

I'm sure by now most of you have seen this shocking piece of news:

Yes, that's right, apparently up until now Bobby Julich was still racing, which we can infer from the fact that he's just announced his retirement. While we'll all be sad to see Bobby go (even though many of us thought he already had), at least it will make room for some fresh, new faces in the peloton. Personally, I think he's making a wise choice. He's already 36, and to race professionally at 37 would be ridiculous.

And now back to the Fun Quiz.

BSNYC Monday Fun Quiz!

I'm extremely fortunate in that readers often share wonderful bits of bike-related absurdity with me. In turn, I would like to share some of them with you. However, my munificence is always tinged with a bit of sadism, and since it is a Monday in September I am going to do so in the form of a quiz. As usual, study the question and choose your answer. If you're right, you'll know it. If you're wrong, you'll pay a visit to the Blue Oyster bar from "Police Academy."

Thanks, and good luck.

--BSNYC





Where can you find the World's Most Expensive Bianchi Pista?


--Tampa, FL

--Columbus, OH

--Austin, TX

--Phoenix, AZ


What is the maximum load for this Bontrager carbon fiber seatpost rack? (Hint: at full MSRP you're paying $22.73 per pound of hauling capacity.)

--7 lbs

--11 lbs

--15 lbs

--Less than the weight of the rack itself





According to the New York Times style section, bike messengers:


--are the best-dressed people in the service industry.

--are ditching the hoodie for the blazer.

--wear black stretch bodysuits underneath their clothes.

--are hot, hot, hot!

Where was this bike spotted?

--Bartertown

--Austin, TX

--Baton Rouge, LA

--Boston, MA

Which will not be a 2009 special edition Specialized Langster?

--Langster Berlin

--Langster Tokyo

--Langster Las Vegas

--Langster Monaco

Which is not an actual quote from a recent Chicago Tribune article in which a reporter bravely tries to ride a fixed-gear?

--"There were clips to lock my feet to the pedals—apparently one of the best ways to exercise control. But I placed my feet on the reverse side, fearing I would not be able to pull out of the clips in time if I ran into trouble."

--"For one brief moment, I felt that 'Zen' sensation fixed-gear riders always talk about. Then I fell down."

--"As soon as I pushed down on the left pedal, I realized this was radically different than riding a multiple-gear bike with brakes. At no moment were my legs still. As long as the wheels moved, the pedals moved."

--"Experienced riders had told me how they lift the back tire off the ground with their legs and bring it down in a hopping or skidding stop. But no way was I going to try that."

Fixed-gear cycling is all about simplicity.

--True

--False

SPECIAL BONUS QUESTION: Who said, "The streets are the veins, and we're the blood. Without us, it would be 'The Day the Earth Stood Still.'"?

--Dogpaw

--Dogstar

--Snoop Dogg

--Cyclehawk Couriers

Frog in the Throat: Diagnosing Your Bicycle

As offensive as some fads, trends, or subcultures can be, there's usually at least some kernel of authenticity if you dig deep enough. In the case of fixed-gear bicycles, even the most staunchly traditional cyclist has to admit that, while thousands of not millions of perfectly good frames may have been butchered in the name of style, at least the butchering was done by individuals and had some sort of DIY ethic behind it. Even the many companies that subsequently sprang up to supply these butchers with things like top tube pads, knickers, and t-shirts with stolen logos on them were generally at least run by entrepreneurial independents. But then comes that moment where that last bit of fiber linking the fad to its authentic roots snaps, like the rubbery strand of mozzarella after you've taken a bite of extra-cheese pizza. In terms of fixed-gears, that moment may have come last year with the launch of the Felt Curbside, one of the first "pre-customized" fashion fixed-gears. But if it didn't, and if somehow that strand of mozzarella was somehow still connecting the pizza slice of fashion with the maw of authenticity, it has finally been completely severed with the introduction of the new 2009 Cannondale Capo:

Tuomo in Finland, who alerted me to this bike, likened it to the scene in Cronenberg's remake of "The Fly" when "Brundlefly fuses with Telepod, creating a hideous monstrosity that begs to be put out of its misery," and I have to admit that's a fairly astute comparison. Cannondale have indeed fused the essence of Fixedgeargallery style with the Capo, and in so doing they've effectively cut the owner out of the equation, since there's not much left to do here in the way of "customization" save for perhaps adding a top tube pad. They've also fused a fixed-gear freestyler with a road-going fixed gear, since the four-bolt crank and platform pedals allude to the former, while the drop bars and dual brakes suggest the latter. But while it may appear to be a bit of a mash-up, it's actually (according to Cannondale) "the bare essence of a bicycle--lean, mean, and ready for the unpredictability of the gritty urban streets." I'm not sure what's "lean" and "mean" about a bicycle with lilac accents, but then again I'm not from the "gritty urban streets" of Bedford, Pennsylvania.

But while bicycles are increasingly coming shipped from the factory already tarted up (or "pre-tarted"), plenty of people are still customizing their bikes themselves. And one of the most dangerous things about customizing anything is that it can quickly get out of your control. This is true of bicycles, cars, motorcycles, and even your own body. With the bicycle, you might start with a sticker or two, then a colored tire, and perhaps after that some grips or bar tape to match the tire. Before you know it you're riding some kind of "My Little Pony" nightmare that looks like a middle school girl's notebook. I strongly suspect that in most cases the people riding heavily customized bicycles did not intend to venture so far into the abyss of accessorizing as they did, and that if you were to travel back in time to the moment they first bought their bike or frame and show them a picture of what it would eventually become, they'd gasp and say, "Dear God, no! Just kill it. Kill it now, I beg you!"

That's why it's important to check your bike for warning signs. Think of it as the equivalent of a home breast exam. And one of the most important things to look for on your bicycle is "hipster cysts:"

The proper medical term for the "hipster cyst" is the Knog Frog, but if you're anything like me you find Latin pretentious and confusing, so I'm going to stick to the colloquial term. If you haven't noticed, "hipster cysts" have become the lighting of choice for urban fixed-gear riders, hence the sobriquet. Of course, I should start out by saying that just because your bike has "hipster cysts" does not necessarily mean you have a problem. It's important to be seen, and these lights are very useful, especially because they are very adaptable and cling well to today's oversized and computer-cluttered bars, aero seatposts, and strangely-shaped frame tubes. However, while these cysts are often benign (as is the one pictured above), all too often they can be indicative of a larger problem.



This bike, for example, has two "hipster cysts." Generally speaking, cysts on the seatpost are benign. However, once cysts on the front of the bicycle migrate from the handlebars to the headtube or fork blade (or even the front hub--yes, I've seen it) they can be a cause for concern. That's definitely the case here, as this bicycle has already developed a serious Hed tri-spoke situation.

Here, the condition is even more serious. Note there's a cyst on the head tube, as well as one on the rear Aerospoke. A cyst on an Aerospoke is almost always malignant, and generally speaking it's not even worth the risk of waiting for the results of a biopsy in order to act, for with every passing day this bicycle's frontal spoke card problem grows more and more severe. Naturally, the first course of action should be to remove both the cyst and the Aerospoke. I only pray it's not too late.

This bike is an excellent indication of just how difficult it can be to properly diagnose "hipster cysts." Ordinarily a cyst on the seatpost is not a cause for alarm. However, this bike is riddled with anodization and color coordination, as well as with a top tube pad and a saddle that is completely incongruous with the rest of the bicycle. (It's like wearing a tasseled loafer with a pair of neon pink hot pants.) In this case, then, simply dismissing the cyst would have been a mistake.

For this very reason, I would advise this owner to be very careful. For while his bike is certainly not suffering from excessive customization, the fact that he already has two cysts (with one on the fork) before he's even installed a chain is a definite warning sign.

Saddest of all, though, are cases like this. A cluster of four cysts on the fork is nothing short of tragic. It's already spread to the handlebars, which are capped in pink Ourys and clamped by a 3TTT Mutant road stem (colloquially known as the "schlong" stem for its phallic appearance). Unfortunately, the entire front end may need to be removed.

Sure, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm overreacting. But this is serious. If gone unchecked these things can lead to a full-blown frog situation:

Or, worse yet, you could begin dressing like this:

Truth be told, though, the model would have looked much better on this reader-forwarded specimen, since it matches his outfit and his attitude:

A $2,500 bike with a Truvativ Touro crank? Now that's a bargain.

So what of that kernel of fixed-gear authenticity? Where has it gone? Well, maybe we can find it in 1992:

Well, I don't see any fixed-gears, but I'm nearly choking on the authenticity.

Time Trials and Time Travel: The Advantages of Life in the Future

As I've mentioned before, the key to bike racing is always living mentally at least four months in the future. It's not about what you're doing now; rather, it's about what you're preparing for down the line. When you're in a perpetual state of preparation you always have an excuse for your present lack of results. Today doesn't count--tomorrow does. And the beauty of tomorrow is that it never comes. So while even the best racer will eventually run out of fitness, even the worst racer can draw from an infinite well of excuses. Just think like Wimpy: "I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today."

Naturally, living four months into the future as I do (what a crazy Presidential election by the way--I sure didn't see that result coming!), I'm currently winding down my cyclocross season. As such, with road racing but a tiny speck in my helmet mirror, I am surprised to find that the professionals are not only still racing on the road, but are even competing in Grand Tours. Even more surprising, these professionals are living two months in the past, rather than four months in the future, since (as I pointed out on Tuesday) this year "the Vuelta will be the Tour." Unless of course they mean this year's Vuelta is actually the '09 Tour. The organizers never really specified. That would put the pros a whopping ten months in the future. And while I'm a strong proponent of living in the future, that's a little too far, since it's almost a year, and once you hit a year the seasons synch up again and it defeats the whole purpose.

At any rate, wherever they are in time, it's paying dividends for Astana, since yesterday Levi Leipheimer took the stage as well as the itchy-sounding "golden fleece." (Or, technically, the Maillot Jaune.) Of course, he lost it again today, but I think it's safe to say that the likelihood of a Frenchman winning either an actual or a nominal Tour de France is remote at best--unless in the spirit of time travel we all collectively decide to hotfoot it back to 1985. And regardless of the final outcome, Leipheimer, Astana, and Trek have been vindicated, because with the Vuelta being the Tour the "Let Levi Ride" campaign has now officially succeeded. (Remember, it's "Let Levi Ride," not "Let Levi Win.") I for one am hoping for a big celebration featuring Malaysian pop sensation Letle Viride, as well as opening act Nobr Akes, with Evans and Hincapie on the soprano and alto excuses respectively.

But while the pros are slugging it out in the Tour, now that my cyclocross season is over I'm settling into the holiday season. And the top item on my nondenominational seasonal gift-exchange day wishlist is the new Serotta, which was forwarded to me by a reader:

There are a lot of things that make me want this bike, but perhaps the most appealing thing about it to me is that it includes "speed maintenance at the lowest possible physiological cost." I'm not sure exactly what that means, but I think it means the bike is fast. Still, there's no such thing as a free lunch, and while the physiological cost is low the actual cost of the bike is high. Really high. Like "$12,000 to $22,000" high. I'm not sure what the $12,000 build includes, but the $22,000 limited edition one comes not only with Campagnolo Super Record but also with "one year of CTS training and a weekend for two at Saratoga Springs..." Now you might think that $22,000 sounds like a lot of money, but you really can't put a price on a romantic weekend for two in Saratoga Springs with Chris Carmichael, who by all accounts is a tender and gentle lover. Unfortunately, though, there are only 20 of these limited edition bikes available, which means the competition among dentists is going to be fierce. Also $22,000 is a lot of money, even for a dentist, which means if yours suddenly starts performing lots of unnecessary surgery on your mouth at least you'll know why.

Most importantly, though, with Serottas now breaking the $20K barrier "gap bikes" are about to get a whole lot fancier. If you're a dentist queueing up for the new MeiVici AE and you need something to tide you over in the meantime (like the tempting little swab of lidocaine before the needle delivers the good stuff), you might consider the Sampson Diablo S, which I happened upon in a recent issue of Bicycling magazine:

Not only is it a bargain at $5,699 when compared to the Serotta, but you can also be the first dentist on your block to have the new Sampson Stratics shifters. They feature "Intuishift," which should not be confused with "Inuishift," a technology designed for the Inuit and other people in cold climes which makes it easier to shift while wearing mittens. No, what's special about "Intuishift" is the carbon brake lever and the hole in the shift lever, without which you'd of course be riding the new Secret Website group:

Brand new, and already on sale. Nobody knows how to live in the future like Nashbar.

Riding Balls Out: The Haters and the Hated

Further to yesterday's spirited discussions about both product placement and Tyler Hamilton, "Origamikid" has sent me the following photo, which he took in Greenville at the US Pro Championship race:


You'll note that Hamilton is not wearing the cycling-specific sunglasses pro riders usually sport. Instead, he's wearing a big pair of oversided celebutard shades. Closer inspection reveals that they are from Prada, a company which, to my knowledge, does not make cycling-specific clothing or accessories:

This raises some interesting questions. Surely, regardless of how you feel about product placement, endorsing products for money in sports is pretty straighforward. And while I'm sure there's some shady stuff going on here and there, for the most part it doesn't give off that beguiling, underhanded vibe product placement sometimes does, since everybody knows exactly what's going on. It's odd, then, that some enterprising optics manufacturer has not paid to put its glasses on the prime, freckled real estate which is Tyler Hamilton's face. Why is this? Are they afraid to associate themselves with his tarnished image? Or is Hamilton simply obeying the unwritten cultural rule that you have to wear giant designer sunglasses in public once you've been involved in a major scandal? Or, is Prada paying him to wear their glasses? I suspected that perhaps Tyler had forgotten his own sunglasses and had to borrow a pair from his wife, but he's also wearing what look like a different pair of Prada glasses here. In any case, if Prada are in fact taking baby steps towards sponsoring cyclists this is an interesting development. The've also found a good angle. "Prada: eyewear for the cyclist with something to hide."

Meanwhile, the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company keep hitting publicity paydirt. Everybody knows Craigslist is the throbbing artery through which the Zeitgeist pulses, and it now seems that the Trek SoHo is perceived as a rare bicycle:

This is a major coup for Trek, because nothing gives a bike more street cred than rarity. So move over, Bridgestone XO-1. The SoHo's coming to collectible country. And it's not even a collabo!

Of course, the real appeal of the rare bicycle is the notion that riding one confers individuality upon you. But the truth is you don't need a rare bicycle to be an individual. All you need is a message, which we saw some time ago in this photo forwarded to me by accomplished photographer Sucka Pants:

Well, it would appear that the bicycle to which this wheel was attached was insufficient to contain its owner's boundless individuality. So strong is was his aversion to haters, and so intense was his desire for them to suck his balls, that he went ahead and hand-fabricated a new frame around the wheel, complete with asymmetrical seat stays and an integrated bottle opener between the top tube and downtube, as you can see in this photo which was forwarded to me by a reader:

Different bike, same message. I like to think that as his cycling journey takes him from bicycle to bicycle over the years, he'll always somehow manage to incorporate the lime green "All you haters suck my balls" rear wheel. Even when he becomes old and inflexible and needs to ride a Rivendell with one of those three foot long Nitto quill stems.

And as far as testicles themselves go, when it comes to bicycles they're not just things for haters to suck. They can also be used to lay claim your bike, according to the proprietor of the website Teabags on Top Tubes:

Here's the basic premise, you have bikes you love, whether it be racing bikes, bitch ass fixie rides, or zoo bomb freak bikes. And, you want to show people how these bikes are yours and no one else should lay hands on them. So, I bring you teabagsontoptubes.wordpress.com.
Take your balls out and slap them on your top tube and mark your territory. Better yet, go ahead and bag your buddies bike. Yep, I know, how could this not have been thought of before.

Out of respect for decency I've censored the above image, but if for some reason you're compelled to see the original (which is obviously not safe for work, or indeed for much of anything) then go ahead and click here. Frankly, this site has opened my eyes, if only because I think I've finally discovered an acceptable use for a top tube pad. Until this guy is safely in police custody, I intend to place one on my own bike whenever it's left unattended. However, once I return to the bike I will immediately remove and incinerate the top tube pad, since it's strictly a sanitary measure. Think of it as kind of an "ass gasket" for your bike.

And speaking of haters, controversial words are being spoken in the world of fixed-gear cycling that have the potential to tear the entire "culture" asunder. I recently received an email from the publisher of an Estonian magazine called Sahtel, informing me that they've published an interview with MASH SF members Jonathan Burkett and Garret Chow, and these comments immediately leaped out at me:


Strong words indeed. It would appear that MASH is disowning the fixed-gear freestylers. I must say it's somehow satisfying to see the new guard revert to the ways of the old guard so quickly. While I think most of us would agree that BMX tricks are indeed better performed on a BMX bike, I also think it's worth noting that while "track bikes were not meant to be ridden in that manner" they were also not meant to be ridden on the road. That's why they're called track bikes. (And that's why one of the interviewees seems to be spending more time on his road bike.) But I suppose three years is enough time to appropriate a type of bicycle, ride it in a certain way, and then dismiss others who ride that same bicycle in a different way. It's sort of like wearing sneakers on your hands and then making fun of people who come along and wear them on their hands backwards. Indeed, if the cycle of "edgy to stodgy" in the fixed-gear "community" is only three years long, the Apocalypse must be close indeed.

From Hankies to Hanky-Panky: Porn and Product Placement

In response to last Friday's post, someone by the name of "Reverend Dick" had this to say:

Snob-
Why are you advertising an $85 scarf? Product placement takes away from your credibility.

First of all, I resent the implication that I have any credibility. You're just as likely to find credibility on this blog as you are a delicious recipe for cream of mushroom soup. You will, however, find whining, complaining, and criticism. You'll also occasionally find pornography involving bikes:

As usual, I've clothed the model in the interest of propriety, but if for some unimaginable reason you want to look at the original photo (as well as photos of her friends) you are more than welcome to do so. It can be found in this emphatically not-safe-for-work link, which, again, is not safe for work (unless of course you're a pornographer or a gynecologist), and which can be viewed by clicking on the subtly-placed hyperlink after the end of this sentence. (porn)

Or, if you're the artsy (that is to say pretentious) type and you prefer pontification to Fofonov, I'm pleased to present this sepia-toned interpretation of my censored version for your delectation:

Whichever version you prefer, though, I think I speak for all of us when I say it's good to finally see some mountain bike-related porn.

At any rate, with regard to Reverend Dick's mini-sermon, in addition to my lack of credibility I'd also like to say that, while I did post a photograph of myself wearing a scarf that was given to me free of charge, I do not consider that product placement. It's more faux product placement--a parody of a product placement. Had I deftly woven the scarf into last Thursday's story about getting a ticket in exchange for cash ("As I waited for the officer to emerge from the cruiser, I dabbed my perspiring forehead with my Ralpha silk cravat (only $85), and its soft touch removed both the sweat and my cares"), that would be product placement. Real product placement attempts to appear genuine and unintentional.

Of course, that's just my opinion, and sometimes it can be hard to tell product placement from reality. It can also be hard to tell when product placement is intentional or accidental. Here is a good example, forwarded by a reader:

Is this product placement? Is the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company attempting to market itself as the laterally stiff yet vertically compliant truncheon of the law? Is this a subtle ploy to entice customers who fantasize about beating hippies with their bicycles? (If we're to be completely honest here this is a fantasy many of us have had at one time or another.) Even though Trek cannot control the news, they must have known when they supplied bicycles to a police department that at some point one of them would brandish his bicycle at a hippie, right? More importantly, is bicycle-inflicted police brutality even more horrific when the bicycle has riser bars with barends on it? And would it be any less horrific if the hippie were wearing a Rapha silk cravat? These are indeed difficult questions to answer. (Hint: the answers are maybe, no, no, probably, yes, and no.)

Similarly, what are we to make of this?

I posted a picture of this bicycle awhile back (more than once, actually). However, a reader recently forwarded me an interview with the designer, who has this to say:

It's not a bike for everybody. It's polarizing, I realize that. It also addresses those who have strong opinions. As far as the position goes, it's a lot more comfortable than first impressions. You have to ride it to understand it. Haters'll hate but it's a slick ride.

I'm a hater in general and I hate this bike in particular, yet here I am posting about it for like the third time. So have I unwittingly provided the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company with free product placement? Does it even matter to Trek whether I love or hate the bicycle, as long as a few more people see it? Should I go ahead and send them an invoice? And perhaps most vexing, does simply having a soul patch and flip-flops qualify one to make stylistic decisions of this magnitude?

Well, I don't know, but I do know Trek must be doing something right, because on the very same blog I saw this:

On top of all that, we brought out a straight razor shave for some man-pampering and told anybody that wanted to get tattoo'ed, we'd foot the bill. One condition, your tat must be a Trek logo or the logo of a family brand (Gary Fisher, 1 World 2 Wheels, Bontrager).

Think nobody would want to sport a Trek logo on their body for the rest of their natural life? Think again, Doubty-McHater. We couldn't ink the peeps fast enough. There's nothing worse than telling somebody that they can't get a tat of your company's logo because there just isn't enough time. Left to me, we'd still be applying ink to epidermis in the parking lot but hey, you gotta draw the line somewhere. Give people a reason to come back.

Now that's just scary. Granted, I have my own Trek-related tattoos, but they're only of former Trek family brands. (I have Greg LeMond's face tattooed on one bicep, and the admonishing countenance of paired-spoke pioneer Rolf Dietrich on the other.) Moreover, I paid for them myself, because I'm accountable to nobody. (Except to Greg LeMond, who insisted that my tattoo be of his "good side" before he agreed to sit and pose.) But to have a company's logo tattooed on you just because they paid for it is something else entirely. It's hard to tell if the person in the above photo has any other tattoos, but if so I'm guessing that this may have been one of them:

(submitted by a reader)

Of course, since it's not Trek-related, he would have had to foot the bill himself.

In the end, though, it's all about perception, and one man's product placement is another man's slander. It's all a question of how you manipulate that perception. Even the Vuelta is getting in the act:

Two days before the start of the Vuelta a España, Race Director Víctor Cordero gave his expectations. "This year the Vuelta will be the Tour. It will have the best participation of all three Grand Tours," he said to El Mundo Deportivo.

That's right, the Vuelta is now the Tour. That must mean the Tour is the Giro, the Giro is the Vuelta, and the Bayern-Rundfahrt is just an office park crit in northern New Jersey. And while Tour Giro winner Carlos Sastre might argue this fact, I'm sure Trek and the Astana boys are more than happy to accept it.

But when it comes to marketing, Trek and the Vuelta are a bunch of amateurs compared to pants magnate Michael Ball. He knows a marketing ploy when he sees one. Not only that, but awhile back I noticed he left a comment on my blog, and apparently I'm not just guilty of product placement:

Anonymous said...
Your closely guarded identity, and the resulting mystique, is your biggest draw. If you're ever discovered RTMS it's all over. OVER!

-Michael Ball, CEO and Creative Director of Rock & Republic

Sure, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking it's not really him, and that anybody can leave a comment as Michael Ball. Well, despite the lack of spelling errors I maintain that it is in fact Michael Ball, if only because Michael Ball leaving a comment on my blog is a dream come true. Also, the comment has that creepy super-villain tone. So please, just let me have that.

Speaking of Michael Ball, Rock Racing now has the reigning US Pro Champion. That's right, former professional cyclist Tyler Hamilton has won the somewhat coveted Stars and Stripes jersey. This came as quite a blow to George Hincapie, who had this to say:

"No one would work with me," a disappointed Hincapie said after the race. He said he had the best legs he'd ever had at a Greenville championships. He said he would have preferred another trip over Paris Mountain. "Then we would have had five guys at the end, instead of 25," he said.

Cadel Evans may be the John Coltrane of Excuses, but Hincapie can more than hold his own. By combining two classic yet seemingly incompatible excuses (the "nobody would work with me" excuse and the "race wasn't hard enough" excuse) Hincapie is showing that he is a formidable excuse-maker in his own right. Sure, he's no Coltrane, but his irreverent improvisation at least puts him up there with Ornette Coleman.