The Fred Stays In The Picture: There's A Reason There Aren't More Movies About Bikes

The Superbowl represents pretty much everything I hate (football, mostly), so I ignore it.  This is pretty easy to do, and apart from the odd sub-verbal moronic bellow which might reach my ears from some far-flung Superbowl soirée, America's favorite sporting event is merely an abstraction that happens somewhere "out there," like religious services or supernovae in distant galaxies.  So instead of watching the game, I spent the evening decalcifying my coffee maker, though unfortunately I experienced a mishap and managed to scald my sinuses slightly in the process:

(A blast of hot vinegar to the schnoz.  Breathing freely now, though I may never taste again.)

Whatever.  The sense of taste is totally overrated.  Now I can eat anything!

I also made sure to get out for a ride before yet another winter storm arrived last night:

It's easy to be jealous of those who live in sunny, warm climes--and believe me I am, you can all go fuck yourselves--but I also enjoy riding in the dead of winter.  There's no more peaceful time to be out on a bike than on a frigid Sunday morning when the woositudes are cowering inside and minimizing their exposure to the elements, and the Freds are foffing off on their trainers.  Also, there are plenty of short, sharp climbs just north of my estate, so it's easy to warm yourself by climbing without also having to expose yourself to long descents that will turn you into this:

Or this:

They say this Neanderthal was out training 300,000 years ago when he attained Caveman "Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" speed on his racing mammoth and froze solid.

Not only do I manage to enjoy cycling in winter, but I also do so on bicycles equipped with Neanderthal-era aluminum rims, and I even manage to modulate my speed with primitive Rube Goldberg-esque rim brakes.  I really should get with the times and "upgrade" though, and to that end I perused this crabon dick-break wheel shootout in "Bicycling" magazine:

At $2,900 for the ENVE and $2,825 for the Zipp, both are clearly total bargains, but the most important metric for ludicrously expensive wheels is how well they "track."  So what does tracking mean?  Absolutely nothing.  It's review filler, a completely empty term.  It's like when they say a bike "goes where you point it."  Which bike doesn't go where you point it?  Well, okay, this one doesn't, but other than that the rider's the only real variable in that department--which is why (apart from triathletes) most cyclists manage to get from A to B.

So let's check out the "tracking" on the crabon dick-spinners:

These wheels felt laterally robust and tracked accurately without squirming, though they were slightly less precise than the ENVEs around corners.

And also:

The SES 3.4s are muscular—they hardly flex during the hardest efforts, and they track well through turns.

Surprise!  A wheel that costs nearly $3,000 goes in the direction you want it to!  Or, in review parlance, it "tracked accurately," which should come as a relief if you've ever tried to make a right onto 23rd Street and suddenly and inexplicably wound up on 24th Street.  (Damn wheels and their inaccurate tracking!)  Also, please note that you've got to spend well over $2,000 in order to get wheels that don't "squirm."  Sure, I've never ridden a wheel at any price that "squirmed," but I suppose there's peace of mind in spending $2,800 for a wheel so that when you get a flat you're 100% certain the squirming is coming from the tire and not the wheel.  Come on, how many times have you disassembled and rebuilt that squirmy wheel, only to find out it was a puncture?

Most importantly, note that the Zipps are "slightly less precise than the ENVE's around corners."  How much less precise?  Exactly $75.

You get what you pay for.

Anyway, the suspense was killing me, so I was kind of disappointed that at the end of the review it turned out to be a tie:

Foregone conclusions are always a lot more convincing with charts.

Moving on to entertainment news, you can now indulge your inner Robert Evans by investing in an independent feature film about alleycats:

Here's how Monsieur Spectacles explains the inspiration behind the project:

"Ten years ago I was introduced to an underground illegal bike racing scene."

Hmmm, he discovered a race completely ignored by the mainstream in which the riders break all sorts of laws?

Was this the Tour de France by any chance?

Well, he doesn't say, but he does promise there's going to be action:

"...we are making an action film, and we want to create beautifully choreographed action sequences that does justice to this subculture."

Ooh, yeah!  I love it!  Here's an idea: what if after he gets hit by the car he flies through the air in slow motion, like this?

Oh, wait, shit.  It looks like someone already made this movie, and it was called "Premium Rush."

No biggie, here's another idea: they could turn this into a "Jazz Singer" ripoff called "Alleykatz."  They could even get that hipster Orthodox Zoobomber in Portland to star in it!

("Caught between two worlds.  His parents wanted him to be a cantor.  He yearned for the glory and messenger bag company swag of the professional alleycat circuit...")

A film like that would assuredly win an Oscar, but unfortunately the filmmakers remain married to this whole action film thing:

"These action scenes are crucial for the plot of this story."

Which, as far as I can tell, involves a bunch of kids who need to get across town to the Halloween party before the candy runs out.

So they need money.  Lots of money:

"For this action what we need to do is film big fight sequences, large stunt set pieces, and big car crashes in central London."

Look, kid.  Lemme give you a piece of advice.  If you want action-packed fight scenes and edge-of-your-seat stunts set against the bustle of central London, you don't need to spend a bunch of money.  All you need is YouTube:

By the way, what's with the old-timey bike?

No wonder Cat 6 hit him, he probably fell out of a wormhole in time from 1908.

Still, you've got to admire the filmmakers' dedication, which is clear from Monsieur Spectacles's steely gaze:

The intensity with which one (1) Swiss auteur stares at his production parter during a pitch is equivalent to 40,000 Diminutive Frenchman Units (or DFUs):

And hey, this might not be the most original project in the world, but if you invest they'll give you some sweet rewards, such as watching them work:

"You'll get to see us editing, grading, and sound mixing the film.  It's a great opportunity to see what happens after you've shot the film, when the magic of post-production happens."

Magic of post-production?  Yeah, post-production is so glamorous, which is why film editors are always on the cover of People and being hounded by paparazzi.  Please.  If you can tell me who won the Academy Award for Best Film Editing last year without doing an Internet search I'll give you $100.

I doubt you'd have been able to stay awake during the editing of the car chase scene from "The French Connection," let alone some alleycat movie shot with iPhones and GoPros.

I'll give them $5 if they let me do the voiceover for the DVD extras, though.

Lastly, here's why making sure your bottle cages are snug should be part of your pre-ride check:

Freds obsess over tire pressure and chain lube and Strava and the "tracking" on their overpriced wheelsets before they leave the house, yet they seldom give any thought to their bottle cages.

Please stay out of the group ride if you're using the hotdog-in-a-hallway setup.