Feeling Freaky: Who Needs Insight?

Like the brakeless rider who does not consider how he will stop his bicycle until he's at the bottom of the hill, the light is red, and an SUV is approaching the intersection, I do not always think things through. For example, when I announced "The Great Meh BSNYC Free Scat Contest!" yesterday, it did not occur to me that perusing people's tales of lament would take a great psychic toll on me. Indeed, to "curate" this contest is to enter a world of injury, theft, pain, and heartache, and the subsequent angst can be assuaged only with spirits. It was not yet sundown yesterday when I began drinking, and it was not yet time for the evening news when I found myself passed out face-down in a bowl of cold macaroni and cheese. Alas, there are too many deserving souls and too few mail-order singlespeeds, and it saddens me that I have but one to give.

Today, however, brings perspective, and after consuming my customary hangover concoction (consisting of apple juice, black pepper, skim milk, and a shot of that disgusting yellow water that's always first to emerge from a squeeze bottle of mustard) I now realize that I must focus on the positive. So instead of dwelling on the many people I will disappoint, I will instead imagine the joy that will fill the life of the winner as well as the beauty that is a brand-new Scattante Americano Courier whatever-the-hell-they're-called. Which bike will the winner choose? Perhaps it will be this one:

It's clear from the new Scats that Performance did their homework this year. (I'm not saying they got an "A" or anything, but they did hand in a piece of paper with something written on it, and as a former mediocre student myself I say that counts.) Most noticeable is that Performance are keyed into the whole "different color fork" thing, which is very fashionable in fixed-gear freestyle right now, and which I assume they stole from the BMX crowd along with all their tricks. (I wonder if fixed-gear freestylers also install their forks much more slowly and awkwardly than BMX riders do, since that seems to be their approach to the tricks.) Performance is a bit behind the times on fashionable foot retention though, and I'm surprised they didn't spec any of the new bikes with some bootleg Hold Fasts. I've actually been using the real thing on my Scattante, and I've been pretty pleased with them. If you're unfamiliar with Hold Fasts, they work exactly like a pair of velcro bedroom slippers--the footwear of choice for the Thorazine-addled. This is why Hold Fast is an especially good choice for the intoxicated or those of limited faculties. (The latter is certainly why I chose them.) I may even "drop" my own version soon:

Made of tough drool-resistant materials, they'll grip your feet with the strength of a thousand patient restraints.

Of course, if you win the Scattante you're also going to need to win a proper bag. Fortunately, over at All Hail The Black Market, Stevil has announced a contest wherein you can do just that. Then, with a free bike and a free bag, you'll have plenty of money left over to drape yourself in Rapha. After all, spring will be here before you know it, and you can't cruise around town on a Hold-Tite®-equipped Scattante sporting a fancy new bag without a proper pair of "shants." Even if Rapha is out of your price range you have no excuse, because there's always eBay. In fact, a reader just forwarded me this auction for a pair of Rapha shants that would excite even the most heavily-sedated shopper:





Today, I'm selling some Rapha cycling shorts. Fixed Shorts, they are called. Rapha, for the uninformed visitor, is the pinnacle of aesthetic cycling wear. It is expensive, and only for the true connoisseur of design and performance. Or something like that. The point is, ladies and gentlemen, that possessing and wearing clothes made by Rapha makes you cool. It makes you rich. It means you go cycling in the French Pyrenees on the weekends until you get tired, then pop into your Audi A-whatever and go home, satisfied that your sleek, rich body is glistening with sleek, rich sweat.

Actually, I don't know if that's true. All I know is, my girlfriend bought them for me, found out I was a fixed-gear poseur (I rode a geared bike on the weekend) and cheated on me with a clove-smoking, knuckle-tattooed douche. And he wore cutoffs and white plimsolls. Double douche. Or she dumped me for him because he has a bigger penis than I do. Either way, I want nothing to do with these pants. And you do.

If, by some cosmic chance, you aren't sure if these pants are for you, you are wrong. They are. To prove it, I want you to read this. It is a secret story patch found WITHIN THE VERY WALLS of the shorts. Pants. Whatever:

Fixed.
Blue has been around for well over ten years now. When he started, his nickname made sense to everyone. Nowadays it doesn't need to make sense. After all, names rarely do. It could only be assumed that blue was the colour of his bike. That's how the guys identify each other. If you ask anyone where 'Bill' or 'Nick' is, you will always be faced with the question "What bike does he ride?" But now Blue's bike is an old green and white Puch track bike. No brakes, of course. His name hasn't changed though. "Hey Green and White!" wouldn't have the same ring. And besides, there's already someone else called Puch.

All true. I've even included and appropriately blurry picture so you can half doubt me with the aching curiosity that tells you it's true. Buy the Rapha Fixed Shorts.

Rapha really needs to hire that guy. He'd move more shants than a naked woman at bike polo tournament. (You know, because of the erections.)

So once you've got your urban singlespeed, and your bag, and your boutique foot retention system, and your shants, you will be ready to take to the streets--yes, the streets, and not the sidewalk. Most of us realize this, but sadly there are some motorists out there who do not. One of these motorists is someone named Gloria Fallon, who issued this "tweet" about 10 days ago which was forwarded to me by a reader:

There's certainly nothing new about people sharing moronic observations via social networking sites. For example, there's that Facebook group everybody was talking about, which I couldn't even be bothered to look at for the same reason I simply flush the toilet after using it instead of rummaging around in there for awhile and then smelling my own hand. However, this one held my attention for a number of reasons. Firstly, it's that particularly irritating form of idiocy that masquerades as wit. Secondly, there's nothing more noxious than the gas that forms when ignorance mingles with entitlement. Yes, why are bicycles allowed to ride on the street with cars? Well, I don't know, Gloria, but you can rest assured that your fellow idiots out there are at least trying to relegate bicycles to the skies. (Other questions along these same lines include: Why are women allowed to vote? Why can't I just kill people? Why are poor and ugly people allowed to shop in the same supermarket I am?) Thirdly, I'm reasonably sure that Gloria Fallon is Jimmy Fallon's sister (Why are bad comedians allowed to host talk shows?), which is the only reason I can think of that her quip was "retweeted" like 29 times:

Now, I'm fairly new to Twitter (yes, I'm on Twitter), but my understanding of a "retweet" is that it implies an endorsement, or an expectation that the sentiment expressed in the original "tweet" will be shared by one's followers. So, since Gloria Fallon appears to be the sister of a "celebrity," I wondered if any other "celebrities" shared her beffudlement. As it happens, there was one person of note who did seem to agree with her: columnist Joel Stein, who has over a million followers.

I suddenly imagined some awful cocktail party at which a tipsy Gloria Fallon approaches Joel Stein and, her lips and teeth stained with red wine, remarks to him: "Oh my God, Joel, I had the most annoying drive over here. There was like totally this biker guy in my way the whole time. Why are bicycles allowed to ride on the street with cars? Am I allowed to paddle a kayak in front of the QE2?" Instead of correcting her, Joel Stein simply clinks glasses with her and says, "I know, right? You're so clever, Gloria. Nice boating reference." Two hours later, they're groping each other in the bathroom.

Again, it's entirely possible that as a novice Twitter "curator" I've missed something, and that Joel Stein does not share Gloria Fallon's view on bicycles--especially since he's written about cycling for mainstream publications on a number of occasions. Maybe he simply retweeted her comment because he just assumed his legions of Twitter followers would realize immediately it was moronic. Then again, while Stein writes about cycling, he's not necessarily the most insightful commentator. For example, here's something he wrote about the Tour de France for the Los Angeles Times in 2008:

If you're like me, I'm sure you can't get enough of mainstream journalists associating doping and cycling--because, you know, there's no cheating in baseball. (Manny Ramirez was tested 15 times in 5 years. Lance Armstrong was tested 15 times since breakfast.) Then, he goes on to tip Cadel Evans as the winner:

Sure, Evans was looking really good there for awhile, but any real cycling fan knows he's about as likely to get through a Tour without choking as Jimmy Fallon is likely to get through a skit without laughing. Still, it's much easier to hire dilettantes with recognizable names, which is why the media industry is doing as well as it is. Here's another Tour bit from Stein in 2009, this one for ESPN:

I guess Stein has found a nice little sideline making fun of a relatively obscure sport for "mainstream sports" fans who know even less about it than he does. Incidentally, he does mention that he rides a bike, if only for brief periods of time--though presumably not in the street, since he'd be liable to delay Gloria Fallon. In any case, if you feel like a total freak--either as a cyclist or a cycling fan--this might help explain why.