License And Registration, Please

Firstly, I'm pleased to report I've got a new Outside column live on the Internet, and it's about how our Cracker Jack box system of licensing is killing people:

In it I make reference to nonagenarians driving muscle cars, and interestingly I'd already completed and filed the column when Captain High Pants and his chihuahua copilot launched his Camaro into someone's house:

According to police, a 91-year-old man-whose name has not been released-was driving a cherry red Chevrolet Camaro with his pet chihuahua when the incident occurred. 

The driver thought that he had put the car into drive, but it was instead in reverse.

Too bad we'll never succeed in putting an expiration date on driving privileges.  Suggest maybe people don't need heavy artillery to shoot at deer and the NRA will come down on you with everything they've got; suggest maybe people born before the 1929 market crash shouldn't be driving and the AARP will be on your ass like it's an early bird special.

Of course deciding when people should retire from driving isn't necessarily cut and dry, but when your pant waist starts irritating your nipples it's probably time to start thinking about garaging the Toyota Avalon for good.  This is especially true now that you can summon a car at the push of a button, and some kind of one-key Uber for Seniors device seems like just the thing.  Well, granted, there is such a thing, but it only takes you to the hospital:

But hey, as long as the Uber device is clearly marked and easily distinguished it shouldn't be a problem:

Oh, and are people on Facebook still the dumbest?  You're goddamn right they are:

Here's someone upset that the person in the photo is walking his bicycle without wearing a helmet:

If he's never seen a story about proper bike setup he should really consider a subscription to Bicycling, since that describes like every third article.

Then there's this guy, who is exactly half right:

Yes, Hunter Grantham Hall, you are a fucking idiot.

By the way, it's funny how people never look the way you expect them to:

He looks like he should be blissed out, not pissed off.

Oh well, stupid comes in all shapes and sizes.  Sometimes it even wears scented beard oil.

Moving on, yesterday I shared with you the thrilling news that I'd gotten a new bag:

(Fredly's got a brand new bag.)

Well promptly after posting I stuffed it full of sundries, strapped it to my bars, and took off for deepest suburbia:

I've been absolutely loving the Jones bars, which are not only supremely comfortable but also offer multiple hand positions while remaining utterly capable on technical terrain.  (Alas, I'm not utterly capable, but that's a separate issue.)  Furthermore, as I became better acquainted with them, I realized that I was not using them to their full potential, since Jones bars without a bag are kind of like a bikepacking bro without a beard.  See, here I was relishing this ramblin' all terrain hop-on-and-go lifestyle yet still portaging my comestibles and accessories in a backpack of all things.  So on it went:

My one reservation was that in adding the bag I'd sacrifice some of those hand positions.  However, in practice, the only one that's really off the table with the bag is this one here:

Though to be honest I almost never use that hand position anyway (which is why I still haven't gotten around to taping that portion of the bar), and if I really wanted to I could probably set the straps a little looser or something to create a little more space.

As for the hand positions I do use most often, in addition to the obvious hands on the grips placement, I also use this one a lot, wherein I kind of grab the bar junction and the brake lever bodies:

That's sort of the Jones bar equivalent of putting your hands on the hoods, and the bag does not impede it one bit.

Then of course there's getting aero and putting the hammer down:

With the bag I sort of rest my palms on the bar instead of fully grabbing it, but it's a non-issue.

Plus, it's that much easier to put the hammer down when you have a bag in which you can easily stow a hammer.

As it happens, I did not bring a hammer with me yesterday, and the contents of the bag were as follows:

• Banana
• Food bar
• Baggie full of trail mix
• 20+ year-old Blackburn mini pump (still going strong!)
• Hiploc zip tie thingies in case I want to stop someplace

Even with this generous payload there was room to spare, and the bag was nice and secure even on rough terrain.  In conclusion my adorable little bro purse seems like it will be just as handy as I hoped, and if you want more technical details about its construction and so forth you can find them here.

Oh, I should also add I did the whole 30-ish mile all-terrain adventure in those Mission Workshop jeans I'm testing:

(Not my lower half, I wouldn't be caught dead in those shoes.)

I was perfectly comfortable every pedal stroke of the way, and as a recovering Fred I'm very proud of the degree to which I've been able to embrace riding in underpants.

Finally, if you're wondering how I've been doing on my one-bike resolution, the answer is, uh, not that great.  Fortunately I've got the New York Times to help me:

Let’s talk about Feb. 14.

Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day, but more important than that: It’s the day by which 80 percent of people who made a New Year’s resolution will have given up.

But this year, let’s stick it out together and keep each other accountable.

Yes, let's.  Unfortunately it's probably a waste of time, since I made my resolution for all the wrong reasons:

“If you do it out of the sense of self-hate or remorse or a strong passion in that moment, it doesn’t usually last long,” psychiatrist Dr. Michael Bennett told Jen. “But if you build up a process where you’re thinking harder about what’s good for you, you’re changing the structure of your life, you’re bringing people into your life who will reinforce that resolution, then I think you have a fighting chance.”

I can't think of a worse group of enablers than other cyclists.