Creature Comforts: Let's Get Serious

If you're reading this blog and someone else hasn't printed it out for you, chances are you use the "Internet." And if you use the Internet, you're no doubt aware by now of two major news stories. Firstly, actor Corey Haim has died. Secondly, a popular search engine company has added bicycle directions to its widely-used mapping function.

With regard to the second story, upon hearing it I immediately tested out the bicycle direction-giving thingy by plugging in an oft-traveled route of mine, and I was presented by three meh-inspiring options, one of which seemed to include my mounting an inconsiderate and possibly illegal assault on the pedestrian paths in Brooklyn's Prospect Park. As far as the first news story goes, actor Cory Haim was of course the star of the 1988 film "Licence to Drive," along with a young Heather Graham, who spent the bulk of the film passed out in the trunk of a Cadillac. In fact, the name of Graham's character in the movie was "Mercedes Lane," and it just so happens that streetwear enthusiast and fixed-gear freestyle impresario Prolly recently alerted me to a Mercedes advertisement starring a local bike messenger by the name of Austin Horse. The plot is the tried-and-true "bike races car in an urban environment" storyline, and here is Part I:



Generally speaking, I'm not a fan of Mercedes automobiles, for the entirely subjective reason that I find them "douchey." Even so, I enjoyed the video since it seemed not to take itself too seriously and was also corny in a sort of endearing way. More importantly, even though it was an advertisement for an expensive luxury car, it was at least straightforward about being an advertisement for an expensive luxury car (this is what used to be called a "commercial" back in Corey Haim's heyday) and wasn't some kind of creepy "viral" ad designed to fool you like that one with the guy who gets the glasses tattooed on his face.

Really, the only problem I had with the advertisement was the Mercedes driver's route choice. Basically, they're racing from Harlem to Fulton Ferry Landing in Brooklyn. Naturally, the messenger drops straight down through the middle of Manhattan, but the driver for some reason decides to take the Brooklyn Queens Expressway:

This seemed like a very bad idea to me. Not only is he traveling out of the way, but he's also bound to get caught up in the eternal congestion at the Kosciuszko Bridge. Then, once he gets through that, he'll soon find himself at a standstill again, since he probably plans to exit the BQE at Cadman Plaza and on a weekday the traffic backs up all the way to Wythe Avenue. Instead, he could simply take the FDR:

Even though traffic is generally sluggish around the RFK Bridge (formerly the Triboro), he'd probably be fine as long as he gets on below where the "Black Cherokee" mounts his installations:

Or, traffic lights notwithstanding, he could spare himself the crosstown trip altogether and take the Henry Hudson Parkway to the West Side Highway and then straight through the Battery Tunnel:

Anyway, it's precisely the sort of logistics driving in New York City requires that often makes the bicycle a much better option, and it should come as no surprise that the driver loses to the messenger. (An outcome that would no doubt have been the same regardless of the driver's route choice.) Here's Part II, in which the driver gratuitously uses the vehicle's creature comforts while driving from Manhattan to Brooklyn via a circuitous route to the accompaniment of a languid saxophone leitmotif:

In the end, the advertisement makes its point effectively: If you're in a big hurry, ride a bike; If you're very wealthy, slightly "douchey," and you value comfort and ass warmth over efficiency, drive a Mercedes. It's basically "The Tortoise and the Hare," but with the twist that the tortoise actually loses yet is totally fine with it, and it's an outcome with which neither cyclists or Mercedes-coveting douche-aspirants are likely to have much of a problem. In its own way, the advertisement is actually pretty honest.

Specialized is similarly honest in this video, in which they present their Stumpjumper 29er to the Dutch, though unlike Mercedes I'm not sure the point they actually make is the one they intended to make:



In the video, we hear from designer Robert Egger:

Who has this to say:

"It's very important to have a bicycle that looks very sexy, it's very important to have a bicycle that looks very fast. So, our job as designers is to make bikes that look fantastic and make bikes look like people want to jump on and ride them."

Is it really that important for a bicycle to look sexy and fast? Anyway, why does this even take work? "Sexy" is certainly relative, but pretty much any race bicycle is going to look fast, since the properties inherent in a race bike are the ones that imply speed (aggressive position, lightweight components, and so forth) and if you're one of those people who thinks speed is "sexy" then the "design" aspect is basically going to take care of itself. Anyway, here's the sexy, fast-looking 29er:

Did it work? Well, it's hard to say. According to the video this 29er mountain bike with a multi-geared drivetrain and suspension fork weighs about 20lbs, and I'm pretty sure such a bicycle would be a lot of fun to ride. However, this bike also costs over $6,000:

As a cyclist interested in performance bicycles, I don't doubt the bike performs, but this price becomes very difficult to accept when a designer from the company has just explained to me how much time and effort (and presumably money, since I doubt he works for free) they put into making sure the bicycle "looks very sexy" and "looks very fast." Really, it just makes me want to say to Specialized, "How much am I paying for the 'sexy and fast' look? $1,000? $5,000? What if I don't want to pay for design? How much will you knock off the price tag if I decline the 'sexy and fast-looking' option and just take the performance?" I mean, you wouldn't pay $2,500 for a Langster with a $2,000 headset top cap--you'd say "Give me the bike for $500 and keep the top cap." So why shouldn't you do that with the design?

Of course, making their top-of-the-line 29er cost $6,100 makes the $3,300 version seem like a bargain--which it really isn't:

Basically, you have an option of a cheaper bike with "lesser" equipment but all the design, when you should really have the option of a cheaper bike with the same equipment and lesser design.

I guess what this whole "sexy" thing comes down to is that some companies believe that, in order to make us want to ride bikes, they first need to trick us into wanting to hump them. Essentially, it's a big bait-and-switch operation. First, we see this "sexy" thing we want to hump, so we leap on it. Once we're on it, though, we realize it's only a bicycle, and by then it's too late so we figure we might as well ride it. (Plus, most bike shops have a strict "You hump it, you own it" policy.) Then, as so often happens with things we want to hump at first sight, the lust gradually cools, and by next year they've released an all-new model with a bunch of sexy lumps in all the right places, and the cycle continues. In this sense, the definition of "design" is that it's the art of making people want to hump things that aren't actually fuckable, thereby fooling us into purchasing things we don't really need.

Speaking of things we don't need, the New York Times has just published an article (complete with kuckle tattoo graphic) about how the city is "finally taking its coffee seriously:"

I could not disagree more strongly with this article. The truth is we used to take our coffee seriously; now we're starting to "bullshitify" it like Portland, Seattle, and San Francisco. Consider this:

Some of the obsessiveness may get a bit off-putting. Want an espresso to go at Ninth Street Espresso? Forget it. The baristas there believe it should be drunk immediately from a warm ceramic cup. Want a cappuccino made from single-origin beans at Kaffe 1668? Sorry, you’ll be told, but milk would overpower the subtle flavors of the coffee. Wonder why the barista pulled and tossed out two shots of espresso before she served you yours? She was making sure it was perfect, the coffee evenly tamped, the water temperature ideal for the particular beans, the timing just right. (The best baristas will “dial in” throughout the day, tasting the espresso and adjusting the grind and dose.)

Hey, there's nothing wrong with fancy coffee (just like there's nothing wrong with fancy cars or fancy 29ers) but if we really took our coffee seriously in New York we'd still be purchasing it for pocket change and drinking it from paper cups on the way to work. Turning the drinking of a beverage that wakes you up in the morning into a lifestyle is the complete opposite of being "serious." It seems to me that if you want to sit around all day doing nothing except obsessing over the plant you're consuming then marijuana would be a more appropriate choice. Coffee is for working; "Wednesday Weed" is for not working. In that respect we should be copying Amsterdam and not Portland.

Nevertheless, I suppose coffee is no different than bicycles in that people need to make it "sexy" in order to sell it. Consider the description of Blue Bottle Coffee in Williamsburg:

I have no idea what "five Japanese slow-drippers" means, or why you need them to make coffee. If anything, that sounds like something you'd need to make a bukkake film. Then again, I have never experienced the pleasure of driving a Mercedes GLK while leather seats warm my ass, single-origin Japanese slow-dripped espresso warms my cockles, and my feathery Specialized 29er hangs like so much toilet paper from the trunk rack.

I really should learn to take life more seriously.