So what heroic exploits did you undertake on your bicycle this weekend? Did you sit on the saddle? Did you pedal the bicycle? Did you make the bicycle move forward? Did you do all of this alongside other people wearing similar clothing and riding similar bicycles, or did you do it all by yourself?
More importantly, how did you share your ride afterwards with the rest of the world? After all, that's the whole point of riding a bike. Whether you ride alone or with others, it's crucial that everyone have access to details about your inspirational life-changing recreational pursuits, because of course while plenty of people have bicycles, nobody rides them as interestingly as you do.
It's like singing "The Wheels On The Bus," only for grown-ups.
One good way to share your ride and have a great big sing-along is by using social Fredworking sites like Strava. Another way is to get sponsorship from some energy drink (or "douche juice") company and make a video of yourself using the wrong bike for something, like the rider known as Seabiscuit, as forwarded to me by a reader:
We've seen Seabiscuit's work before, and this time he's going over the Galibier or the Telegraphe or both of them or neither or who fucking cares on his track bike with the following ratio of who cares x who cares:
I'm sure someone out there who badly needs to get a life can tell you exactly how many skid patches that yields without even consulting their iPhone.
Anyway, thusly decked out in his charity ride chic outfit and astride his Nü-Fred fixie mountain meh-chine, he narrates the ride for us:
"I'll go through hell, I'll crawl through several layers of hell," he explains.
Oh, save it. You're not going on a tour of duty in Afghanistan, you're going for a bike ride. You won't crawl through any layers of hell. You'll go through a recreational bike ride, and you'll crawl through several layers of recreation--slowly, because you picked the wrong bike.
"The point is to achieve something by my very own means, and against myself," he continues. "Just by the power of will and physical strength. That's my nature."
Right, just himself. And his sponsor. And his support vehicle. And his film crew. And his Garmin:
If you need to tap into your "will and physical strength" in order to engage in your hobby, you should either find a new hobby, or else you should recalibrate your sense of "will and physical strength." If going for a bike ride draws from his reserves of "will and physical strength" then having a bowel movement must be off the charts. (I can't wait for that video.) And smile once in awhile, for chrissakes:
You're riding a freaking bike, not brokering a cease fire between warring countries--though you'd never know that by listening to him. Consider this rhetorical question, for example:
"This mountain. Is it my friend or is it my enemy?"
Maybe the mountain is neither. Maybe it's your "frenemy." Or, even more likely, maybe it's a millenia-old geological formation that doesn't give a flying fuck about you or your gear ratio.
Of course, it's perfectly normal to engage in some self-indulgent introspection while you're riding, though you should be worried if you start asking yourself dumb questions like this:
"Why is this road here? What is it doing here?"
The combination of thin mountain air and a thick-headed rider is a dangerous one indeed--though it makes me even more excited for that epic bowel movement video:
("Why is this toilet here? What is it doing here?")
Eventually, he grinds his way to the top of the mountain, at which point he commences with the descent and the idiotic skidding:
By the way, if you look closely you can see there are some skidmarks already on the road, which leads me to wonder just how staged this video actually is. Here's another shot in which you can also see earlier skidmarks immediately to his left:
I hear the skidmarks in the bowel movement "edit" are going to be sick.
Most amazingly, we're well into 2013 now, yet people are still attempting to impart spiritual significance to fixed-gear cycling:
"Cycling on a track bike certainly has deep spiritual aspects. It's repetitive to an extend that I achieve a trance-like state of mind."
That's actually called "boredom," and he's managed to convey the sensation very convincingly in the film.
And this is called "déjà vu:"
Yes, no fixie downhilling video would be complete without the obligatory ruined rear tire shot. Could Red Bull buy this guy a road bike already? I wonder if the bowel movement video will feature close-ups of blown-out toilet paper squares.
In any case, with this landmark video, Seabuscuit has cemented his reputation as the David Blaine of fixies, in that he is a shadowy, wispily-mustached figure who resurfaces periodically to perform some outsized stunt nobody really cares about anyway.
Speaking of stunts nobody cares about, absolutely nobody cares about amateur bike racers, though that's not stopping the Wall Street Journal from blowing the helment off of Fred doping:
In my years of racing in New York City I've seen numerous doping scandals, but the most amusing was the Case of the Gran Fondo Doping Fred, who is quoted in the article:
After his positive test last year, Anthony offered some insight into the amateur's motivation to cheat, saying his obsession with winning drove him to use banned drugs. In a recent email, he said he supports all antidoping efforts, but wonders whether amateurs will simply learn to game the system, as many pros have done, particularly by easing off performance-enhancing drugs ahead of competition.
"Surprise out-of-competition tests seem more effective as a deterrent," Anthony said. "That would have likely made me think twice."
Well said. Yes, it's everybody else's job to save you from being a complete douchebag and cheating at your pathetic hobby.
The article also makes a good point, which is that amateur cyclists want to be tested so they can be just like the pros:
That cyclists are leading the push to test amateurs is likely no coincidence, considering the large number of pros in that sport who have cheated, most notably Lance Armstrong, who late last year was stripped of his seven Tour de France titles and who has since acknowledged doping during his cycling career.
Once you've paid for the crabon bike and the crabon wheels and custom team kits and the power meter and the coach, what's left but to pay for someone else to take your pee in a cup after a race? Of course, at the same time, amateur bike racers are always looking for a discount, which is why they've only managed to raise a paltry $5,000:
Following suit, the New York bicycle association has raised $5,000 for testing, the same amount raised so far by the Bicycle Racing Association of Colorado. By all accounts, that is far from enough to adequately police amateur riders.
Indeed, $5,000 is not going to pay for an anti-doping program. In fact, $5,000 is the retail price of a typical New York City Cat 4 racer's wheelset. What they really should do is work with the manufacturers to introduce a surcharge on all this stupid equipment. This surcharge would then be used to fund drug tests on the purchaser. In fact, I think there should be mandatory drug testing on all purchasers of ridiculous crabon equipment. Here's how it would work:
1) Fred presents his USA Cycling license when he buys a Zippp Spud Wankery Firecrap Crabon wheelset with drug testing surcharge built into the already ridiculous price:
2) This surcharge is applied directly towards testing Fred's pee-pee throughout the season:
3) Fred's weenie-ism is thus completely self-sustaining and self-regulating, and anybody who doesn't want to pay for the stupid wheels or the stupid testing can just buy reasonable and durable equipment that they use year after year. (And as a bonus, the Freds who suddenly and inexplicably "downgrade" will be easily identified as dopers.)
Meanwhile, drug testing is poised to be the new must-have accessory for Freds, and the real winner in all of this is Usada, who get paid to do the tests--even on ballroom dancers:
Since cycling is an Olympic sport, Usada has the power to test at all sanctioned races, even amateur events. But Travis Tygart, chief executive of Usada, said elite events have traditionally taken priority. Tygart said amateur track and field competitions, archery events and even the Pikes Peak marathon have paid to have Usada testers on race day.
"We've even done ballroom dancing," Tygart said. "Athletes are stepping up and saying even if we're weekend warriors, we don't' want to be cheated."
Sure, cyclists may be bad, but there's no athlete more crooked than a dance floor Fred:
(Fred. Get it? Of course you do.)
Lastly, even though some people apparently find it flirtatious, there are few things more irritating then strangers chiding you for not wearing a helment:
Bike Safety - m4w - 27 (Bed Stuy)
Tompkins at Myrtle
You said, "Nice helmet." I made up some excuse about not wearing one...but maybe I should have ridden with you to safety instead of pedaling off. Thanks for looking out for me regardless.
"Nice tits" is generally the appropriate response in cases like these.