Further to yesterday's post, in which I mentioned this guy:
A commenter would like you reassure you that he's merely an "outlier:"
Tame Dog Hawk Machine said...
Dear everyone, the Tattoo n Tzitzit guy does not represent Zoobomb as a whole at all. Actually he's kind of an outlier.
If you're in Portland, come see what we're all about!
JULY 22, 2014 AT 8:10 PM
In other words, he wants to reassure you that, should you choose to try Zoobomb, you're unlikely to encounter any Jews. Whew! Also, you can be sure that if any Asians show up they'll immediately be outed as undercover police officers:
(Boy, that was awkward, wasn't it?)
And remember, Keep Portland Weird!
*[But not like, you know, ethnic weird.]
Moving on, in its ongoing attempt to become Portland East, Brooklyn continues to neuter itself, and the latest symptom of this is genteel motorcyclists leaving passive-aggressive Post-it notes for other motorcyclists:
Seriously, that's not enough room?
I see nothing to complain about. Get back to us when you pick your bike up off the street for the fourth time after some incompetent parallel parker knocks it over with their SUV. When I owned a motorcycle people used to sit on it to eat lunch--until I joined the Satan's Helpers, that is. After that, nobody messed with me.
Another symptom of Brooklyn's transmogrification are these ugly and misshapen bicycle sculptures, which I passed recently as I trawled the Manhattan Bridge on a Citi Bike looking for hot Cat 6 action:
I'm not sure what they're going for here, but my best guess is it's supposed to represent what you'll look like after a run-in with one of Brooklyn's many homicidal drivers:
Though if they were looking to create a really shitty version of Storm King then I'll say they nailed it:
In any case, my shivers of disgust gave way to trembling anticipation as I mounted the approach to the Manhattan Bridge, and I knew the Cat 6-ing was going to be good because people in Evel Knievel helments were detangling their headphones:
I had chosen a goodly steed at yon Citi Bike stable too, because the transmission held onto gears 1, 2, and 3 without popping out again:
When it comes to Citi Bike gearing, one outta three ain't bad, two of three is pretty darn good, and unfettered access to all three is almost unheard of.
(By the way, if you're wondering what's on my wrist, it's hair. And if you're wondering what's buried in the hair on my wrist, it's some kind of "smart watch." See, I once missed a text while riding my bike, and now I'm legally required to wear that electronic monitoring bracelet until I die.)
Some people mistakenly think Cat 6 racing is all about sheer power, but the fact is that bike-handling is crucial, especially when you have to circumvent "foot salmon:"
If you're unfamiliar with the Manhattan Bridge, the north side is entirely for bikes, and the south side is entirely for pedestrians, but the pedestrians don't want to have to walk all the way across Canal Street (for which I can't entirely blame them), so they're just like, "fuck it."
This means the Cat 6 racer's bike-handling skills have to be sharp. Really sharp. Like Peter-Sagan-on-Adderall sharp. Fortunately, I happen to possess just such a skill set. That's why when there's a cyclist in front of me, another coming towards me, and a pedestrian in the far left, I'm able to slip right through the crack:
Get it? Crack.
The only thing sharper than my bike-handling is my wit.
A full 45 seconds later I was still laughing at my own joke--until I was attacked by a Fred or Fred-Like Object with a jersey that said "beard" on it:
It was on! I attempted to screw on my "race face," but unfortunately I had left it in my other pants. And no sooner had this registered with me than I heard the words every Cat 6 racer dreads--"On your left!"--at which point I was overtaken by a neon specter from the past:
He then proceeded to open a gap on me faster than an ice-cold can of Coors Light on a hot day:
Despondently, I looked out over the Big Skanky, which I understand a certain commenter went swimming in this past weekend:
I then thought about how we had a huge amount of rain last week, and how when that happens the local waterways fill up with untreated sewage, and then I threw up in my mouth.
Soon I crested the span and hit the downhill, where I spotted the clear winner of the day's best-dressed award:
I mean, come on, let's have some credit where credit is due. His kerchief matches his socks for chrissake!
(They're green because he's leading the points competition.)
Furthermore, it was pretty hot out , and even though he was riding in a blazer and on a climb he was as dry as a one-liner. Meanwhile, I was wearing a t-shirt and going downhill, yet I was sweating like a Zoobomber in a minyan.
Yes, Team Citi Bike acquitted itself well yesterday:
Look at that speed!!!
It must have been a double-points day or something, because the pace was relentless:
Then, I caught my twin adversaries, Beard Fred and Beer Fred, at the bottom of the bridge, but like the pro Cat 6 racer that I am I kept my distance so they wouldn't know I was racing them:
By the way, did you know they're making helments in the Citi Bike colorway now?
Really, the only low point for Team Citi Bike yesterday was this guy, who totally botched the remount and got dropped by CETMA Rack Guy and Shirtless Guy:
Shirtless Guy will not be winning any sartorial awards for yesterday's stage, this I can assure you.
Meanwhile, this guy was not only wearing a shirt, but he was also wearing every single fixed-gear fashion accessory ever invented, right down to the fanny pack and the star tattoo:
There are two things you can always count on in this town--a fixie rider having a star tattoo, and an SUV parked in the bike lane in front of the bike shop:
Here's an inadvertent "selfie" of Your Humble Blogger:
Yes, I ride around New York City taking pictures with my smartphone like an idiot, and if you're wondering how a Citi Bike brakes coming off the Manhattan Bridge when you're only using one hand, the answer is, "Not very well at all."
Still, I do it anyway, and the only thing I enjoy more than taking pictures of cracks while Cat 6ing is taking pictures of other people taking pictures:
I like to think somewhere somebody also took a picture of me taking a picture of that person, so please let me know if one pops up on Instagram.