So was it still there when I returned?
So that's a good sign, but it's possible what thwarted the thieves was the mountain of snow upon which the bike was perched, rendering it inaccessible without crampons.
I'll have to do another test on a level, solid surface.
Oh, and yes, I did stop at the Gyro Hut on the way home, thanks for asking:
I thought about surreptitiously chaining the Gyro Hut to a pole as yet another test for the Hiplok, but I decided against it.
By the way, some readers remarked that my bike is ugly. Yeah, no shit. It's a bike I ride in foul weather and leave unattended for long periods of time in the bike theft capital of America. What, I should try to make it pretty? You're goddamn right it's ugly, and the crusty bottom bracket and filthy chain in particular are sources of great pride for me:
And yes, this is the erstwhile "Ironic Orange Julius Bike," as at least one reader pointed out:
In addition to carrying me back and forth between my job when I had one, it's also been to Portland:
Where it transported me around town when I scribbled this story for Outside:
And where I used it in the 2009 Single Speed Cyclocross World Championships:
After that I got tired of the flared bars, put "regular" ones on it, and continued to use it for the odd cyclocross race and also as my Winter Aqueduct Crusher:
But then I got rid of my Scattante:
And repurposed it yet again into the zippy yet comfy flat-pedal upright lock-up bike you see today:
Hey's it's no World's Greatest Madone, but it was inspired by it:
I've had lots of good times on that ugly-ass thing, and I'd argue everyone should have at least one metal bike that they can reconfigure from time to time for nefarious purposes and generally party down on in a worry-free fashion, but I do realize this is a bike blog and it's more fun to point out that the stem is not "slammed" and it's slightly longer than yours.
So there you go.
Speaking of obsessing over bikes, all New Yorkers obsess over housing in pretty much exactly the same way. I'm no exception, which is why I read the New York Times Real Estate section, where every week they tell the story of a (usually) hapless person or persons and how they found their (usually) overpriced apartment--which I only mention because something leaped out at me in the most recent installment:
Idly checking listings last summer, they spotted a rental in a prime Park Slope location. Mr. Katz, who like Ms. Rogawski is now in his early 30s, stopped in.
The apartment, a one-bedroom for $3,400 a month, was small and dark. The owner saw Mr. Katz’s bicycle helmet and curtly told him, “There is no room for storage of bikes in this building.” It was easy to cross that place off the list.
Why, that's anti-veloism! It's a clear violation of the Fair Housing Act! That's like if you walked into an apartment with a yarmulke on and the landlord said, "There is no Shabbat elevator in this building. You don't wanna live here. Midwood's that way, and don't let the door hit you in the tuchus."
Discrimination notwithstanding, you should never go apartment-hunting in a helmet. Remember that study about how wearing a helmet leads to increased risk-taking, even in non-cycling situations? Well the last thing you need is a plastic hat clouding your judgment while looking for new living quarters, especially in this town:
("Only $3,500 a month? I'll take it!")
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Meanwhile, in London, Mayor Boris the Johnson says that cycling has doubled there in the past eight years and is on track to one day being "brilliant:"
And if you're seeking evidence of this nascent brilliance, look no further than this fixie video which was forwarded to me by a reader:cycling has doubled in last 8 years and we have to make it safer...apols for delays but will be brilliant when done #askboris @dan_frewer— Boris Johnson (@MayorofLondon) January 28, 2016
Remember fixie crews?
Well it seems people are still forming them in London, and this one includes Kamal:
Which leads me to wonder: So they're only just now introducing Young Blood, but we're all supposed to already know who Kamal, Robbo, Johns, and Patterson are?
Boy, I'm even more out of it than I thought.
Anyway, crank up the Hendrix, because this video is full of Purple Haze:
And still more purple haze and jumpsuites:
As well as pinkish haze and jumpsuits:
Then it gets really weird:
And it was around here that I though I was watching the first season of "True Detective:"
By the way, if you could see Gyro Hut farts, this is what they'd look like:
Also there's trackstanding. In water. With haze:
I expect a Kickstarter for a seatpost-mounted smoke machine with remote handlebar-mounted trigger any day now.
Lastly, New York City is also exhibiting signs of impending brilliance with regard to bike infrastructure:
"There's tremendous demand to get from the Lexington Avenue line to, for example, the medical institutions, Rockefeller University, Cornell Hospital on the East Side, and that's a long, long walk," Russo said.
With the new crosstown lanes and one being installed on Second Avenue, the Upper East Side will have seven miles of new bike lanes this year.
Sounds great, doesn't it?
Well, it may be welcome news for New York City's many headphone salmon:
But not for one (1) local community board member who will be slightly inconvenienced:
"If you get out of your car, you're not allowed to park in the bike lane, so you have to park on the other side of the street," Birnbaum said. "You have to carry your things, across the street and across traffic into your building."
Do you hear that!?! YOU will have to carry YOUR things! Not the doorman, not the porter, but YOU! And ACROSS THE STREET no less! The very indignity of it all! It's almost like being able to park a private vehicle directly in front of your door at all times in the most densely populated area of the United States is an unreasonable expectation!
By the way, I love when people say "you" when they really mean "me." Don't bring the rest of us into this Michele Birnbaum, you're on your own. Welcome to life on the bike lane-blighted side of the street. It's going to be a living hell. Meanwhile, your across-the street-neighbors on the "good" side are pointing and laughing and spilling out of their Mercedes in a care-free fashion, Bergdorf shopping bags hanging insouciantly from their bejeweled wrists.