Keeping Up Appearances: Filling the House, Clearing the Bike Lane

This past Saturday morning, I awoke with even more anxiety than usual, for that very afternoon I would be putting on my very first BRA (or Book-Related Appearance). As I went about my morning ablutions, I attempted to calm myself. "It's perfectly normal to be worried about your first BRA," I told the reflection in the mirror as I watched it floss its eyebrows and pluck its teeth. "But you'll get through it. Just think of it as a training BRA." Still, I was nervous, and even my customary three hour bubble bath did little to calm my jangled nerves.

Eventually, the time came for me to head to the venue, and I loaded up the Big Dummy Surly has loaned me with various BRA-related items (including a 3-foot tall BMX trophy I won sometime during the 1980s, and which I brought with me strictly as a confidence-boosting totem) and headed down to the Powerhouse Arena in DUMBO, Brooklyn. (At some point I will examine the subject of living with and operating a large utility bicycle in New York City in greater detail, but in the meantime I will say that it was extremely helpful this past weekend.) At first, Powerhouse seemed relatively empty, but after awhile more and more people seemed interested in getting into my BRA. Here's what the audience looked like when I accidentally video"taped" them because I still cannot operate a simple, pocket-sized digital camera:



If you look closely, you'll even see the era-defining Mongoose Cachet fixed-speed bicycle in the foreground, which my ironic intern Spencer Madsen brought at my behest. (I didn't really need it; I just wanted to make him "schlep" it all the way to Brooklyn since it seemed like an appropriately intern-y thing to do.)

Lacking as I am in BRA experience, I knew I would have trouble filling my BRA, and so I endeavored to "stuff it" by preparing a slideshow using a popular computer presentation software. This slideshow featured embarrassing photos of me from the past, including an especially humiliating one in which I have "epic" hair and am attempting to mount a personal watercraft. I may expand this presentation in the future. Also, I gave out some prizes from tour sponsor Knog as well as others. Speaking of Knog, in addition to sponsoring dorky bike blogger BRAs, they're also apparently scoring prominent product placement in Hungarian rap videos, like this one currently in rotation on MTV in Europe:



Inasmuch as I understand Hungarian (which is not at all) I'm pretty sure this video is about jacking unwitting "fixters" for their "hipster cysts" on the mean streets of Budapest. In any case, I'm proud to share sponsorship with Buppa, who is universally acknowledged to be the fifth-best ironic MC in all of Hungary.

By far my favorite part of the BRA though was meeting people like the great Erik K and the estimable Leroy and all the others who took the time to attend and allowed me to pretend to be an author by scribbling in their books. In all sincerity, it was an honor. And if that wasn't enough, somebody even arrived via p-far and allowed me to ride it:

(Photo via Robert Gorell)

That's me mounting the p-far, and as you can see I've donned a period-correct mustache for safety. (Before polystyrene helmets, cyclists wore waxed mustaches to protect their heads from injury.) In the background, the p-far's owner (shockingly bereft of tweed) looks on with amusement. Amazingly, I actually managed to ride the thing, though I did botch the second dismount and one of my toes is now a beet-like purple. This, of course, is the common late-19th century cycling injury known as "P-Far Toe," and I look forward to "taking the cure" later this afternoon, which involves a musket ball, a rusty saw blade, and a bottom-shelf whiskey "anesthetic."

Thank you very much to all who attended, and I hope you enjoy the book. I also assure the rest of you that I have learned much from my training BRA, and I hope to enhance myself so that my future BRAs are fuller and more robust.

Speaking of full BRAs and giving people what they want, VeloNews has apparently figured out that by far the most interesting aspect of the Tour of the Gila was the podium girls, and so they finally wrote the article everybody was waiting for:

(Levi who?)

The podium girl with the tattoo to the left of the guy in the black shorts who nobody cares about is Alexis “Lexy” Brown, and it turns out she's actually a Cat 4 road racer herself. While this is tremendously exciting news to most of bike dorkdom and the thousands of randy coaches who are now sending her unsolicited emails, it's bad news for Liz Hatch, since it means Brown is only a few upgrades away from challenging Hatch in the competition for the coveted Maillot Cleavage. (That's pronounced "MY-yo CLEE-vage.")

Amazingly, though, there are apparently some cycling fans who think a busty Cat 4 is less interesting than an aging professional sandbagging in a low-key domestic stage race. Said one irate VeloNews commenter:

I remember when Velonews reported about cycling...erasing my bookmark now...

Then again, I could be misinterpreting this comment. Perhaps "erasing your bookmark" is yet another euphemism for "foffing off," and the commenter is actually posting in flagrante suffoco pullus.

I must admit, though, that I was also a bit upset about the article--not because of the subject matter, but because it was woefully underreported. For example, why nothing about the other podium girl? Also, what is the tattoo on Brown's arm? It looks like it could either be Jerry Garcia, or a naked woman's torso:

I don't know whether to be intrigued or disgusted. And, perhaps most importantly, is there yet more ambiguous ink peeking out from the hem of her dress?

I guess we may never know, since as I type this VeloNews seems to have moved on to Franco Pellizotti's "abnormal passport" and bookmarks everywhere are returning to half-mast.

Meanwhile, in more serious news, you may have read about that foiled bombing attempt in Times Square this past weekend:

Well, it may not surprise you to learn that, prior to being discovered, the combustible SUV was just sitting there smoking in the bike lane:

It should come as no surprise to any New York City cyclist that a terrorist would choose to plant a bomb in the bike lane, since ours are littered with idling SUVs as it is, and it would be nice if the fact that any one of these vehicles could contain deadly explosives might inspire the NYPD to actually start clearing them. Living in a succulent terrorist target as we do, it seems absurd that giant, illegally-parked vehicles are still simply accepted by many as normal features of the urban landscape. My hope is that, going forward, clearing the area and pre-emptively exploding the offending vehicle becomes standard bike lane violation protocol. (I would give anything to watch someone emerge from a SoHo boutique with a bag full of designer clothing, only to find the smoldering remains of their Range Rover.) As it is, right now unfortunately bicycles seem to arouse more suspicion.

In the meantime, since we're clearly in danger, I may switch to a more "survivalist" bicycle, like this one which was forwarded to me by a reader:

I plan to launch those rear-mounted water bottles at my pursuers as I flee.