Coming to Terms: Reconciliation and Rationalization

We all ride bicycles for different reasons. For some of us, cycling is a means of transportation. For others, it is a way to engage in friendly competition. Some of us even use it as yet another excuse to get naked. But regardless of why we do it, cycling eventually makes us all come to terms with ourselves. Ultimately, no matter how exquisitely lugged your hand-fabricated road bike or how studiously utilitarian your $1,349.00 "Gazelle Toer Populair Gent" Dutch-style fop-conveyor, it is up to you to propel it forward. (Sure, there are bicycles with electrical assist, but I have chosen to pretend they do not exist.)

Still, it obviously helps a lot if your bicycle is working properly--though sometimes even an equipment malfunction is not enough to stop a powerful and determined rider. Such was the case at yesterday's Tour of Flanders, which Fabian Cancellara managed to win despite a bike change necessitated by a "bad-luck incident with a couple of brake binder assemblies:"

Cancellara's teammate, Matti Breschel, was not so fortunate. He also had to switch bikes due to a brake malfunction, though apparently Saxo Bank mechanics took the opportunity to pull the old "Stuart O'Grady Bike Flim-Flam" on him:

This certainly is a "big, big, big mistake." Firstly, according to a popular user-edited Internet encyclopedia, Breschel is an inch and a half taller than O'Grady, which means that the bike did not fit properly. Secondly, cyclists are notoriously superstitious, and many riders in the professional peloton believe a gypsy mechanic placed a curse on O'Grady's spare bike back in the Crédit Agricole days and that grave misfortune will befall anybody who rides it. As a result, O'Grady has had the same spare bike since the late '90s. What's more, it's gone completely untouched since then. Sometimes, if you're watching a race on Versus, you see it atop the team car, covered in cobwebs with a raven perched nonchalantly on the top tube. So as you can imagine, Breschel was horrified to receive it, and I'm sure even now his teammates are looking askance at him and waiting for him to either drop dead or fall victim to some horrible crotchal fungus.

As for the "bad-luck incident" with the brakes, I'm not sure what caused the brake binder assemblies to fail. Perhaps SRAM equipped Saxo Bank with crappy brakes, or perhaps a ham-fisted mechanic over-tightened something, or perhaps Cancellara's and Breschel's bikes were placed too close to O'Grady's spare bike on the roof of the team car. Regardless, it's more the sort of thing you'd expect from a Walmart bike--and in fact, it's exactly the sort of thing I encountered on my Walmart Mongoose Cachet "fixed-speed" bicycle, which I recently purchased for testing purposes after filling out the necessary paperwork:

I plan to report in more detail on the bicycle in due course, but in the meantime I will say that it was equipped with some sort of cursed front brake binder bolt that spins eternally in both directions without either loosening or tightening. (Insert eerie bird sound here.)

Of course, I already knew most of what happened in the Tour of Flanders hours before actually watching it, since the Versus coverage did not air until yesterday evening. Still, I did watch the race, partially to witness the action firsthand but mostly to check in on the commercials, one of which was a commercial for the "Road ID" in which Bob Roll advocates carrying a bazooka:



I watched this with interest since a "PR" person was kind enough to contact me recently and ask if I wanted to "test" a Road ID myself. However, I politely declined, since in order to properly test one I'd have to get in some sort of horrible accident that would render me unable to convey information about myself verbally. I was briefly tempted to engineer a "prank" test in which I would lie motionless on the Brooklyn Bridge bike path and wait for someone to call the number on my bracelet, at which point they would hear this, but I dismissed this as being in extremely poor taste and ultimately decided to forego the opportunity altogether.

In addition to the Road ID commercial, there was also one for Denorex shampoo, which was an updated version of the old half-and-half head test:

"On this side I can feel a tingling sensation," says the tester. While this was not a cycling-specific commercial, as I watched it I realized that this premise would also be perfect for selling chamois cream. Basically, you'd take a pair of cycling shorts and smear half the chamois with one brand of cream and the other half with a competing cream. Then, you'd get a pro cyclist like David Millar to wear the shorts during a big race like the Tour of Flanders and describe the taintal sensations:

David Millar: "Nothing's happening yet."

Tyler Farrar: "Just wait. I'm telling you, it's like having an anxious sea urchin in your shorts."

Speaking of cycling and coming to terms with yourself, as time goes on it can grow increasingly difficult to reconcile your constantly changing needs and desires with your self-image. Consider the world of fixed-gears, for example. Not only has the act of riding a fixed-gear lost any semblance of "street cred," but it's inevitable that fixed-gear riders are now becoming interested in other types of cycling. Still, they're not quite ready to cast off the fixed-gear identity. Consider this entry from the Fixedgeargallery, which was forwarded to me by a reader:

The polarizing ("polarizing" is a polite was of saying "disgusting") aesthetic considerations of the Cannondale Raven aside, this is not even a fixed-gear bicycle; it's a single-speed. Why, then, did the owner submit it to the Fixedgeargallery, and more importantly, why did the "curator" of the site post it? I am simultaneously dismayed by the incongruity yet pleased that the Fixedgeargallery appears to be expanding its purview. In any case, it's sort of like visiting a familiar porn site and suddenly finding an unexpected combination of genitalia.

Similarly incongruent is the persona of "cultural snake handler" Mike Giant, shown here writing his name on a wall for the umpteenth time:

MIKE GIANT on Jessie Street from Sean Desmond on Vimeo.

Then, after writing his name on a wall, he signs it:

Signing a picture of your name seems unnecessary to me--it's kind of like pouring sugar on your Cocoa Puffs.

Anyway, event though Giant has built a brand and career based entirely on "flambulliently" writing his own name and then selling it to others (actually, that's not fair--sometimes he just copies stuff), he also likes to espouse Buddhism:

This is even more vexing than singlespeed bikes on Fixedgeargallery. Regardless of your opinion of Buddhism, I'm pretty sure it's the opposite of what Mike Giant does, and I'm also reasonably certain Siddhartha didn't gain a worldwide following by writing the name "Buddha" really cool all over India. Then again, while vanity and Buddhism aren't really compatible, I suppose both are pretty easy to engage in when you're stoned. Actually, being stoned is all about combining things that don't go well together--that's why it makes people put peanut butter on their pizza. I guess that's really the depth of Mr. Giant's worldview.

But while it's pretty easy to reconcile opposing concepts with liberal application of "Wednesday weed," it's a little harder to reconcile your need for a brake when you don't want people to see that you have one. Fortunately, at least one designer is coming to the rescue, for fixed-gear freestyle impresario and streetwear enthusiast Prolly recently alerted me to this contraption:

Yes, you can finger this diminutive nubbin without anybody knowing; surreptitious braking is the "hipster" equivalent of playing "pocket pool" while leering at someone on a subway platform. However, to truly appreciate this setup you need to see it in context, and fortunately someone posted a complete picture of the bike in Prolly's comment section:

While I don't believe in judging people by their bicycles, sometimes it's difficult not to draw conclusions. I may be way off here, but everything about this bike suggests middle-aged designer with an erectile dysfunction. By the way, the stem is called the "Blockhead," and it features "sharp edges and corners." Furthermore, it's "not for everyone," and you should "Ride it at your own risk:"


Not for everyone indeed. I suppose after taking a Blockhead stem in the "pants yabbies" two or three times you might need one of those weird saddles too. Really, I can't help thinking that the owner of that bike can't come to terms with the fact that he should really be riding this:


It's called the "Shoppy," and unlike the Blockhead stem, it is intended for everyone--both men:

And women:

"Flambullient" coif not required but recommended.