Turn, Turn, Turn: To Every Thing There is a Barspin

We've all heard the old saying, "The more things change, the more they stay the same." Obviously, this is completely untrue. Take Miles Davis, for example: he went from this to this. Mario Cipollini also changed a lot over the years, most notably with regard to his hair, which started out curly but increasingly sought close contact with his scalp as the years passed. And let's not forget Renée Richards and Rene Russo, both of whom were born male but now live happily as women.

However, this saying is true with regard to fixed-gear freestyling. You may have seen that old Thomas Edison video of the guy doing tricks on a fixed-gear bicycle back in 1899, since it's been making the rounds again recently. (In fact, you may even have seen it on this very blog.) Indeed, it's plainly obvious that most of the fixed-gear freestyle repertoire was already solidly established before 1900, including the so-called "elephant trunk skid:"




Well, it turns out that, when it comes to the fixed-gear scene, lame tricks aren't the only things that have precedent in the 19th century. I'm pleased to report that I recently uncovered an early edit of this historical piece of film complete with the original title card and spirited soundtrack, which proves that the fixed-gear freestyle filming style was also pioneered by Thomas Edison well before the great odometer in the sky rolled over to 1900. Observe:

Yes, everything old is new again and so forth--including "Angel of Death" by Slayer, which few people realize was actually a 19th century folk song.

Still, it's all too easy to dismiss cycling as a bunch of recycled styles and gimmics. For example, even Thomas Edison himself probably never imagined that one day we would ride ingenious bicycles of titanium, which can be disassembled with simple tools and carried on great flying tubes in the sky. Just imagine how amazed the great inventor would have been if he had watched this video, in which Sloane Peterson from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" assembles a Ritchey Breakaway road bike in a matter of minutes:

Maybe it's the hotel room setting combined with all the insertion and gentle twiddling, but I must say I couldn't help sensing some romantic undertones. The truth is, bicycle assembly just doesn't look like that in real life. I was ready to dismiss this as a coincidence, until I discovered this alternate "quiet storm" version:

"Get it together" indeed. Clearly this is just the bike for your next hotel rendez-vous. Just walk in and out with a suitcase and nobody will ever know.

Speaking of romantic imagery, BKJimmy recently forwarded me this picture of the Mavic Diminutive Frenchman tenderly teaching serial retrogrouch and uber-curmudgeon Jobst Brandt how to drive a tractor for some reason:

It's sort of like "American Gothic," except they're in the Swiss Alps, there's a garden gnome, and they both look exceedingly pleased and very much in love.

It may be though that their joy stems in part from the fact that they're driving the tractor with Mavic's EZ Ride pedal system:


Yes, it's about time that someone introduced a magnetic shoe/pedal interface. According to one review, "You can’t pull up on the pedals, and you don’t need to twist out of them, but the interface is sure to be more secure feeling than a platform pedal for most riders." So basically then it's like riding a platform pedal with chewing gum stuck to the sole of your sneaker. I just hope Mavic put the magnet on the pedal and not on the shoe, or else you're liable to get stuck to a manhole cover at a red light. In the best case scenario, you'll be late for work; in the worst case you'll just get run over, leaving only a shoe behind. Then maybe some bike activists will come along and paint it white as a memorial for you.

But while the idea of a city of "ghost shoes" is certainly a depressing one, there's still a lot to look forward to in cycling--particularly the Tour de France, otherwise known as the Grande Boucle. (That's French for the "Big Boucle.") This year's Tour certainly promises to be an exciting one, partially because the organizers have announced they will be banning radios from two stages:

A lot of cycling fans feel that riders' reliance on their directors' instructions has made for boring racing, so this should be an interesting experiment, though at the same time one might argue it's also a little gimmicky. In a certain sense, they're almost "novelty stages"--especially when you take into account some of the other less-publicized experiments in this year's Tour:


Yes, in addition to the two radio-free stages, stage 16 will be held entirely without bikes, forcing the riders to run or speed-walk. This is a mountain stage too, and it comes right after a rest day, so you can expect a major shake-up in both the polka-dot jersey competition as well as the GC (especially for those riders suffering from bunions). Shoe selection will be critical. Not only that, but the penultimate stage to Mont Ventoux will be held without performance-enhancing drugs (in honor of Marco Pantani's drug-free Ventoux win in 2000), and that in turn will be followed by a completely pants-free final run into Paris. Here's a route map to give you a better idea:

Incidentally, stage 21 is not the first pants-free stage in the Tour's history. It was actually first tried back in 2003, but with limited success:



Lastly, I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news to report. Stevil Kinevil reports on the epicly-titled "Guys Who Cut Their Own Hair" blog that someone has hurled a brick through the window of Mission Bicycles's new store:

I hope you will join me in denouncing this craven act of vandalism. I interviewed the Mission guys back in 2007, and they were as forthright and gentlemanly as anybody I've ever met. (Sure, I didn't actually meet them, but whatever.) Furthermore, while I may not be in the market for the sort of bikes they build, if I were I wouldn't hesitate for a moment to trust them in making my ideal "colorway" a reality. But by far the most disturbing thing about this crime is that it was probably committed by someone who feels fiercely protective of the fixed-gear "scene," which is completely ridiculous. Firstly, Mission started way back in 2007, and fixed-gear culture didn't even close its doors to new members until March of 2009. Sure, that's only a couple of years, but two years in fixed-gear years is like ten regular years. Secondly, as the Thomas Edison video proves, the only people who have any right to feel proprietary about the "scene" are people who were there from the beginning--which was 1899, or over 550 years ago in fixed-gear years. So unless the guy who threw the brick was wearing pantaloons and was really, really old, he might as well have just thrown the brick through his own window instead.

Let he with an antebellum birth date hurl the first brick.