The Aristocrats: Stay Classy

In these crazy, wild, topsy-turvy times of wars, conflicts, battles, and excessive synonym usage, it can be important to have something that gives you a sense of security. This can be something as complex as a belief system, as simple as a talisman. This is why I worship a Lobster deity whose glowing Pincers of Justice light my way like Glo Stix in the horrific rave that is life in the modern world. I also cling to talismans, which is why I recently commissioned a large diamond-encrusted medallion of the time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork:

Just as it is reassuring to look to the heavens and find a familiar constellation, or to open the refrigerator and find that same jar of relish that was there when you moved in, it is incredibly grounding to know that this flavor saver-sporting über-dork will always be among us. It's also tremendously soothing to know that he has a brother who rides mountain bikes, as you can see in this "vintage" ad from "Spy" magazine that was forwarded to me by a reader:

Now that I think about it though, it's equally possible that his brother is also a time traveler but that he's since been lost in time, trapped in some pan-dimensional netherworld, in which case this is all very troubling. Either way, maybe I will have him incorporated into the medallion--it should be no trouble for the artisanal jewelry curator I frequent down at Fulton Mall, since he did an impeccable job with my "Heroes of the Spring Classics" gold fronts.

Speaking of cycling legends, the Lennard Zinn Bicycle Technical Advice-Dispensing Robot has published an interesting article about Lance Armstrong's various contributions to the equipment aspect of the sport (of cycling, naturally--his tennis racket designs sucked):

However, even Watson the "Jeopardy"-playing computer made the occasional mistake, and likewise the Zinn-bot did make one glaring error:

The fact that Armstrong’s equipment was displayed on a huge world stage for a month in July, seven years in a row, gave it a more lasting effect. Also, the Olympic equipment programs tended to be aimed primarily at track racing (especially once the team time trial was eliminated from the Games) and the masses do not buy track bikes.

If the masses don't buy track bikes then I don't know how to account for all those Bianchi Pista sales, or all the Nü-Freds who are constantly shoaling me and salmoning at me at every turn. Then again, maybe I'm living in "The Truman Show," and it's just the same Nü-Fred over and over, and all he's doing is changing his designer bag. This notion is incredibly frightening to me, and I only wish my retro-Fred medallion were finished so I could rub it desperately and sob as I pray to the Lobster for mercy.

In fact, sometimes I find myself wishing that I actually had the power to time travel, perhaps by means of some kind of flux capacitor-assisted "bake feets." And if I could travel through time, I know exactly where I'd go: mid-1960s England, more commonly known as the Golden Age of the Aristocrat Bike:

ARISTOCRAT BIKE

This video was forwarded to me by Paul in London, and not only is it top-shelf vintage folding bike porn, but the pastoral vision of cycling it affords us makes a tweed ride in Portland look about as genteel as a cockfight in Tijuana. I mean, what could be more romantic than taking a folding bicycle on a boat date?

We know they're real aristocrats too, because the young gentleman averts his eyes as his date leaves the boat instead of taking advantage of the nascent short skirt trend and stealing a glimpse of her "lady place:"

Then again, she does ride away from him, so maybe he did do something impertinent, like ask her opinion of his dickie.

Similarly well-behaved are these young newlyweds:

If each manages not to break a hip while mounting the Aristocrat Bike, then they should be in for quite a rollicking honeymoon. Maybe they'll even let the tea steep for just a few more minutes so that the thrillingly illicit caffeine jolt will add some excitement to their evening of abstinence.

As Paul also points out, the video even features a Le Mans start:

See, back in those days, while the good aristocrats played polo, the bad ones engaged in outlaw bicycle-themed lawn games known as "crumpetcats."

Next, the narrator makes a very bold prediction:

"In 10 years' time, the cycling experts say, today's cross-bar models will be museum pieces like those old pennyfarthings before them."

Of course, as we all know now, he turned out to be right about the demise of the "cross-bar"--though not quite in the way that he imagined. While the folding bike is certainly widely used today, it's far from the norm, and indeed most cyclists these days prefer something like this, as forwarded to me by a reader:

Top tubes are for retrogrouches--everybody knows that crabon diving boards are far more practical.

Nevertheless, as the narrator also points out, back then the Aristocrat Bike was also poised to become "the big businessman's time-saving friend," and here's one removing an Aristocrat Bike from the trunk (or, as I believe they say in Britain, the "butt") of his car:

You'd think an aristocrat would have some sort of apron-clad Jeeves to extricate his Aristocrat Bike from the butt of his car (ideally he's wear latex gloves while doing so) and unfurl it for him. Then again, I suppose as a businessman he is engaged in business, and thus "works," which is not the sort of distasteful behavior in which an aristocrat would engage. I guess he must be one of those tacky nouveau riche types. Still, I guess handling your own bike is more aristocratic than, say, this:

Anyway, if the Aristocrat Bike isn't truly aristocratic yet, it soon will be, for as the narrator explains, it's quite the social climber:

"The makers believe they are unfolding the story of the push bike that is going up in the social world."

I'm not so sure about that. Really, it's almost impossible to teach these nouveau riche types anything about taste. Just look at his garish yacht!

He's even got some scantily-clad 1960s "ho" waiting for him on deck:

They are so totally going to have a mid-1960s nouveau riche yacht party. In fact, what they're doing in the Aristocrat Bike video is exactly the equivalent of this:


Though something tells me those guys didn't bother hire a bicycle valet:

Speaking of how it was "back in the day," a few posts back a commenter mentioned the following article about some guy with an old-timey car:

In it, the car's owner proves that he's obviously been spending a lot of time reading people rationalize brakelessness on fixed-gear websites and forums:

Because the Model A’s brakes need a longer distance to stop the car, the trick, he said, is to avoid tailgating. “The car is actually safer because it forces you to be more aware of conditions, of what’s going on around you,” Mr. Klinger said.

Not only is it a Zen thing, but it's also a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang thing. I'd like to see him pull an Aristocrat Bike out of that Model A's butt--now that would be a trick. I'd also like to travel forward in time and see if in 40 years the YikeBike video seems as quaint and charming as the Aristocrat Bike newsreel did:

My best guess is that it won't. Like styrofoam, true idiocy does not degrade over time.

Lastly, yet another reader informs me that disembodied hands are not just for presenting bikes, and that they're also used to great effect in dog shows:


In particular, the hand on the left is doing a wonderful job of moving the tail out of the way and providing a clean line of sight--in fact, as I understand it, this dog's testicles actually won Best in Show.