Monday, June 1, 2009

BSNYC Ride Report: Slippery When Hairy

As you may recall, awhile back the ironically-named author of the Fat Cyclist blog, Fat Cyclist, raffled off an opportunity to travel to New York City to meet me, and this past Saturday that meeting in fact took place. Of course, the real fruit on the bottom of the yogurt container that was the Fat Cyclist contest was the free plane ticket. Meeting me was just the sour and boring part that gets in the way of the deliciousness. And fortunately for the eventual winner of the contest, Brad Wedemeyer, he lived close enough to New York City to visit without squandering his plane ticket, which he can still use to take a trip that's actually interesting. Even more fortunately, Brad also received an additional bonus prize, when he got to watch me fall off my bike after urinating, which I will address in due course.

Brad opted for a road ride, which was fortunate for me since my recumbent is in the shop. (Visibility is paramount when you're palping a recumbent so I'm having a commercial grade Hurricane Illuminator Series outdoor flagpole installed.) As such, I figured we should "slay" the quintessential New York metropolitan area road ride, which is of course the ride to Nyack. If you're unfamiliar with the cycling patterns of the New York region, here's a very general map of the sort you might find rendered as a line drawing in the opening pages of a lengthy fantasy novel:

The pink thing shaped like a piece of lox is the island of Manhattan (where, as it happens, most of the bike salmon reside). On the northern tip of the piece of lox you can see a green line heading west. That is the George Washington Bridge, which leads to "The Land of Make Believe," so called because it is a mystical place filled with people on all manner of misshapen crabon contraptions and clad in a bewildering array of colors. Essentially, it's a kingdom full of court jesters without a king, and every weekend New York City's cyclists don their most absurd outfits, and head over the bridge to The Land of Make Believe. Some ride in tight pacelines, others hunch over their aerobars, and still others weave dangerously as they ponder the cue sheets clothespinned to their handlebars. The "Smurf Village" of the Land of Make Believe is Nyack, which is about 20 miles north of the George Washington Bridge on the west bank of the Hudson river and contains the cafe in which most of the jesters purchase and consume their comestibles.

Meanwhile, downtown Manhattan (and, to a larger extent, the portions of Brooklyn adjacent to it) contains "The Fixie Hatchery." As the name suggests, this is the place where fixters spawn and conduct their first experiments in customization and color coordination on their new IROs and Pistas. While the fixters rarely stray far from the hatchery, you will occasionally find them in The Land of Make Believe, where they look exceedingly disoriented and uncomfortable due to their sweaty jeans and overgeared bikes.

But the most mysterious and forbidding of these domains is The Hunting Ground of the Lone Wolf. This is the marshy, flat portion of Brooklyn and the Rockaways where forbidding individuals on exotic bikes roam. Here, the Discman is the music player of choice, and the mountain bike reigns supreme. In The Hunting Ground of the Lone Wolf, cyclists do not fly in formation like those in The Land of Make Believe, nor do they flock together like the fixters. Instead, they pick their way through the reeds in conspicuous solitude like the egret.

And so it was that on a warm, sunny Saturday morning I met Brad in Manhattan for a trip to The Land of Make Believe. I had with me a one-man security detail (in the form of a stealthy assassin who can hurl a multi-tool with deadly accuracy) as well as a brace of CamelBak Team Garmin Slipstream bottles, which were sent to me unsolicited by Slipstream for this very occasion and which I presented to Brad:



We then headed over the George Washington Bridge and into The Land of Make Believe, which was resplendent with court jesters due to the favorable weather conditions. As we approached the New Jersey/New York state line, we stopped to answer the call of nature, since I was almost certain I'd heard a maple tree calling my name. It turned out I was mistaken about the tree, but we figured while we were stopped we might as well urinate. However, I had come to a stop atop a layer of wet leaves, and when I clipped back into my pedal after relieving myself and attempted to ride away from the curb my wheel slipped out from under me and I fell over in a manner slightly less graceful than this. Fortunately, I fell away from the patch of ground I had just moistened and not onto it, though given the volume of cyclists in The Land of Make Believe that morning I choose not to think about what may have made those leaves wet in the first place.

Eventually, we made it to Nyack, where we stopped at the Runcible Spoon, which is the Performance of cyclist cafes. Characteristically, it was bustling, and here was the scene as we arrived:


As always, the full range of bicycle brands, lycra hues, and unfortunate bar tape "colorways" was on display in front of the Spoon, and as hard as it was to tear ourselves away we finally headed inside. I ordered a muffin, from which I picked and nibbled until I spotted something that stopped me cold:


While it's not visible in the photo, there was in fact a hair in my muffin, and it was way too long to belong to Brad, my security detail, or me. Also, the fact that it had not been visible initially led me to suspect that it had somehow been baked into the muffin. Now, I hesitate to blame the Spoon for this, since it's quite possible it simply fell from someone's head as they passed and alighted on the muffin while I was eating it. (Plus, I'm prone to paranoia, as evidenced by the fact that I hear trees talking to me.) In any event, I elected to discard the muffin at this point. While there's certainly nothing wrong with enjoying a hairy muffin, it's something that's better left to consenting adults in the privacy of their own homes.

I was still shaken by the muffin debacle as we left the spoon, so we detoured slightly on the way back towards the bridge in order to ride up some hills. At this point I should mention that Brad, who is a strong rider, is also a triathlete. In fact, he is an Ironman, having completed multiple whatever the plural of Ironman races is. (Maybe it's "Ironsman," like "Tours de France.") This puzzled me greatly, since triathletes are supposed to be bad bike handlers who can't climb, yet Brad climbed quite well and also managed to stay on his bike the whole time and generally ride it with aplomb while I had nearly fallen headlong into my own urine. It was very nearly enough to convince me that I should discard my misconceptions about triathletes, though in the end I just decided to consider Brad an anomaly since I find stereotypes and sweeping generalizations comforting.

In any case, I enjoyed myself greatly, and I hope Brad managed to enjoy himself too despite my tedious company. Thanks to him for making the trip, and I wish him the best in all his endeavors. I guess it couldn't have been too bad for him since he does seem happy in this post-ride shot, though that's probably just because he's already reminiscing about my unfortunate post-urinary accident:


Shortly after this, we parted ways and I headed homeward. My route took me along the Great Hipster Silk Route. Here is a rider in Queens heading back towards The Fixie Hatchery which lies just across the bridge in the distance:


Yep, nothing more comfortable than a well-worn generalization. It's just the thing to assuage my wounded dignity.

83 comments:

Anonymous said...

maybe?

Anonymous said...

finally!!!!

Danny Felts said...

wrod up!!!!

Anonymous said...

Whatevs.

Paul Bowen said...

ist?

rezado said...

Brown trout cruising down stream

Anonymous said...

Di Luca!

Giro revenge - call the doctor!

Luck E. Seven said...

Flesh!


A

Seanywonton said...

OK Finish

mikeweb said...

He slips on the wet cobbles!

No one brings him a new bike!

He loses!

db said...

"Why not seek Ossining?"

mikeweb said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
mikeweb said...

Wow! Snobbie fell on Saturday! I guess what Menchov did on Sunday was actually an homage then and not just an accident.

hillbilly said...

i wonder if 'the killer' looked as happy about snobbie's fall as he did about menchov's? the runcible gives me the hebes everytime, now i feel better about disliking it.

physics snob said...

that isn't a full suspension bike

Anonymous said...

hairy muffin

ant1 said...

MUFF HAIR?

Anonymous said...

hey lance

if you're reading this, i think you should get BSNYC on board the team bus for one of your celebrity interviews. maybe he can put a bag over his head a la thomas pynchon on the simpsons. or maybe have him do color commentary on the TDF, whatever. it'd be interesting and could raise awareness for both ALS and cancer

-jw

Anonymous said...

Do you rotate the muffin clockwise while nibbling at the top corner?

broomie said...

Told you we could climb!

Face!

BikeSnobNYC said...

Physics Snob,

Oops! Thanks. Slipped up again...

--BSNYC

Disgruntl Ed. said...

You should have ordered the mince and slices of quince. Next time, perhaps.

Seanywonton said...

It looks like the only thing that's floating the back end on that Full Suspension mountain bike is a giant baloon tire. Is that one of those pedaling water-boat thingy's that they rent on small ponds?

bikesgonewild said...

...bsnyc sez "while I had nearly fallen headlong into my own urine."...

...i rue the many times i've personally come to that sad realization...

LastBoyScout said...

Brad's saddle bag should be all the solace you require. Triathletes obviously can't use jersey pockets b/c they're not included with the Skinsuit/Speedo = stereotypes reaffirmed.

broomie said...

BTW hooray for Brad and congrats!

(I'm still waiting for my elephant painted T-shirt)

Udder said...

WTF is a "Runcible Spoon?" I guess a cafe in The Land Of Make Believe needs a make believe name...

Klaus said...

I'm surprised by the fact that you didn't mention the Gerolsteiner guy in the picture(who is only wearing one shoe) giving you the evil eye.

Todd said...

I saw the OG Lone Wolf riding out in Venice the other week and I nearly crashed when I saw him due to the shock of discovering he really is that much of a kook.

Anonymous said...

I think you mean assausage not assuage.

Luck E. Seven said...

Udder-

The Runcible Spoon is a pretentious literary reference to a spork.


A

Anonymous said...

That's a pie plate I see on the foreground bike (the Specialized with the blue helmet hangin')???

hillbilly said...

46 rd is just a weird ass street name. at least you didn't have to witness fixie lessons on the boardwalk at coney island, one dude showing the owner of the bike in question how to track stand and skid stop...painful...and i overheard the words.."yeah, we ride our fixies all the way in to manhattan from here...."

Anonymous said...

Is it just a coincidence that both you and HTATBL prominently feature urine in your latest posts?

Anonymous said...

Since the Morman was paying, why not order a hogwich instead of the adults-only $1.95 muffin?

The assausage hogwich sounds particularly good.

hillbilly said...

paninis!

bikesgonewild said...

...gerolsteiner guy, after eating his own shoe sez: "i'll bet it was tastier than the 'hairy muffin' the guy w/ the paper bag over his head ate & who knows what's in the hogwiches"...

flaco said...

I would like to agree with you, last boy scout, but I believe we have learned in the past that our very own RTMS has been know to rub/rock/palp/slay/goucher a saddle bag from time to time.

grog said...

Nothing's funnier than a freefalling fixie driver.
Except perhaps a hairy muffin.
Good one, BSNYC.

FIXI FALL
PISS MISS
MUFF HUFF

ant1 said...

Snobby - if you need to counteract Brad’s influence on your triathlete stereoptype, just come on down to Atlanta’s Silk Sheets. It’s a set of bike routes through south Atlanta’s Chattahoochee Hill Country. Beautiful scenery, rolling hills, very little traffic. You see more triathletes than cars down there though. They’re all slow as shit. The dollars spent per mph achieved ratio is off the charts. ITTET, that’s some pretty irresponsible cycling.

Daddo said...

"While there's certainly nothing wrong with enjoying a hairy muffin, it's something that's better left to consenting adults in the privacy of their own homes."

mwhahahahahahahaha!

Mongo Pusher said...

Szmyd !

CommieCanuck said...

Good to see someone bought and used one of my patented Muffin toupees.
My business plan is that hairless muffins will rapidly drop out of fashion, and the muffin toupee will fill that fashion gap.

This is much better than my old GLH muffin spray-on toupee.

g said...

ant1,
are they still patrolling columns drive to keep the tri-folks off? That used to be the tri-hatchery, if I remember correctly.

Anonymous said...

I think I just found my next place of employment.

Anonymous said...

...like "Tours de France."
Or Whoppers Jr.!

ant1 said...

g - I'm not familiar with columns drive.

RANTWICK said...

Hairy Muffin. Urine. Consenting Adults. Eewww.

liz said...

pie plate on the Specialized indeed.

that cafe is full of Do Not Want.

g said...

ant1 it's in cobb county, just across the line off roswell rd. it's along the river. So you get not only the heady smell of finless-brown trout, you had to deal with all the tri folks flocking to the flattest part of all Atlanta. They used to allow Mtn biking on the trails in the park, but I am sure that too has gone away. Been a few years since I have been in the area.

Anonymous said...

I always shave muffins prior to eating them.

Main Entry: run·ci·ble spoon
Pronunciation: \ˈrən(t)-sə-bəl-\
Function: noun
Etymology: coined with an obscure meaning by Edward Lear
Date: 1871
: a sharp-edged fork with three broad curved prongs

Why don't they just call the fucking place "Spork"?

Stupid yuppy dildos...

C.P. said...

Thumbs up and Thanks!

ant1 said...

g - i'd never heard of it. i try to stay away from the north side of town. everytime i drive through buckhead i want to puke. nothing against those people, their shiny fitted shirts, or their bmws, but i just feel way out of place. i like to keep by douchebaggery on the inside, not display it for the world to admire.

bikesgonewild said...

...anon 3:46pm...let sleeping dogs lie, ie: 'mirriam webster' when the info is at hand...

...bsnyc's post hadda link & "the spoon" offered it up..."A Runcible Spoon is a spoon-shaped fork with one sharp wavy tine that can be used as a knife. It is most famous from Edward Lear's poem "The Owl and the Pussy Cat"...

...They dined upon mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a Runcible Spoon.
...

...disgruntl ed got it...luck e.7 got it...

...true, their list of muffins which includes apple, banana, bran, corn & more, didn't mention hair...

Anonymous said...

BGW sounds like the type to frequent such a place...

rezado said...

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

Anonymous said...

I worked at both the Runcible Spoon and Piermont Bicycle connection back in high school. Roadie parades.

Fred Zeppelin said...

If you want to know more about sporks, I suggest "The Evolution of Useful Things" by Henry Petroski. Kinda a dry read, but very interesting nonetheless.

bikesgonewild said...

...anon 5:17pm...

...hah !!!...when you look at that 'runcible' foto, you'd have to know i wouldn't come within a mile of the place...even if "el snobbo" was payin' for the hairy muffins...

bikesgonewild said...

...post script:--this is an amazing coincidence but last night, andy rooney had this to say......

..."btw, what's up w/ the literary equated "runcible spoon" out in nyack, anyway ???...did ya notice their menu has bicycle wheels pictured on it but the sandwiches haven't got cycling names ???...not even one...

...they've got "hogwiches" & all 12 of them are named after harley davidson models ???...what's up w/ that ???...

...not a pantani pannini or a lance livestrong liverwurst in the bunch...no menchov muffin, cavendish croissant or even simoni sam'ich w/ garzelli garnish...

...i think i would have enjoyed the pellizotti poorboy...if they'd had one...

...well, i'm just sayin' that w/ a poetic reference in the name & a bicycle oriented clientele, how come they're catering to the local hell's angels anyway...

...this is andy rooney & i'm still hungry after all those miles i pedaled
...

jflo said...

I know I'm late, but did a triathlete actually say "Face!" here in the comments? Wow. Haven't heard that in a while.

b said...

I was wondering when this story would pop up.

kale said...

If you gave a turtle a golden shower instead of the maple leaves you would have been fine. The Red-Ear'd Slider makes a great post urination wheel chock due to the fringed marginal scutes on the carapace. Polish teams have been using them for decades (improperly, of course).

ken e. said...

i was just following along quietly, then there's this whooshing sound and the comments thread leafs me wondering "face?"

is that where tri-geeks put their road rash?

Marrock said...

Brad loses points for not wearing a Fat Cyclist jersey in the pics.

bikerjulio said...

nice to see someone rubbing Campy's latest.

Davey D said...

SNOB! I CAN SEE YOU IN THE REFLECTION OF RUNCIBLE'S DOOR! YOUR IDENTITY WILL NEVER BE SAFE!

...because of course you're the only cyclist in NYC to rock a Krypto chain lock...

Asshammer Jackson said...

If BikeSnob didn't exist, someone would have to invent his sorry ass.

broomie said...

jflo,

you are correct. Because of my demanding schedule, its difficult to keep up with what the kida are sayin'.

So there you are, moted.

broomie said...

Ken e.

We put it there on Mondays and Thursdays. On Saturdays we do shoulders and glutes.

ken e. said...

trying for a sarcastic retort, but fighting head-cold... thanks broomie.

Nexus said...

The last time I fell into my own urine there wasn't a bike to be seen ! That was after a night of riding, beers and hairy muffins.

Anonymous said...

First, there was pass/fa1l racing. Then, nonplussed journalistic access. Mix in some twitter quotes and blog references. And now we're presented with inopportune hairiness and crashing. I'm of the opinion that bikesnob is David Zabriskie. Behold! The Garmin bottles!

Anonymous said...

why not try ossining?

brad wedemeyer said...

snob - thanks for the great ride. i'm still impressed with how well you handled those descents with that bag over your head.

lastboyscout - guilty as charged (and that's my new smaller saddle bag). i know it's not 'cool', but i've been left out on the road so many times i carry an entire bike shop with me now.

speaking of left out on the road, no mention of the guy who broke his chain? when we stopped and offered to fix it, he exclaimed "you can fix a chain?!?!?" and explained that he threw it into the woods a while back.

Anonymous said...

Brad - I hear you about the bike shop in the saddlebag. I can't bring myself to leave home without my fold-out frame straightening table and my bottom bracket facing tool, because, well, you never know.

wishiwasmerckx said...

Snobbie, call Daniela Levy right away. This is a major violation of New York's adulterated food statutes. I smell a big payday over the hairy muffin.

kale said...

Mr. Wedemeyer,

Find solace in the fact that saddlebags are the roadie's hip pack, soon to "blow up all over the scene" with handmade and collabo versions soon enough. Save those jersey pockets for the chillum and the energy gel you so devoutly endorse. But I'm sure that you know this already, given your glazed, plussed visage.

sufferist said...

Hello-

Fixed gear riders sometimes venture out further than the casual jaunt as can be witnessed by the RAAM fixed-gear category.

link to story

Mr. Lippman said...

you know, a muffin can be very filling.

TortugaGuy said...

testtickle

Brecher said...

In fact, he is an Ironman, having completed multiple whatever the plural of Ironman races is. (Maybe it's "Ironsman," like "Tours de France.")

For whateve reason, but that made me laugh really hard...

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