The Concept Of Fredness Is Universal

Killer autonomous vehicles, rancorous community board meetings, stupid biplane-inspired handlebars...sometimes covering the bike beat can be depleting, soul-sucking work.  So it is at these times that, in search of respite, I find myself turning to news of other subcultures and reveling in the fact that their problems don't affect my life in any way whatsoever.  This is why I was delighted to read a story about how Rockaway Beach is being invaded by Surf Freds:

Winter surfing in Rockaway Beach used to be for the locals and the hard-core. But lately, it’s been overrun by newcomers in expensive wetsuits. https://t.co/gHK81hrMbE

— NYT Metro (@NYTMetro) March 18, 2018

Ah yes, this was just the balm my aching spirit needed, especially since it sounds like surfing is analogous to cycling in so many ways.  For example, they have their fancy wetsuits:

Surfing Rockaway Beach in the bitter cold used to be a solitary affair, only for locals and the hard-core. But because of a boom in popularity of the sport, the gentrification of the neighborhood and advancements in wet-suit technology (a $600, five-millimeter- thick suit can keep you warm for two hours), the frigid city surf has gotten crowded, locals say.

And we have our Assos:

And our Rapha:

(Jesus suffering in style in his Rapha Gilet)

They have their strange rules that make absolutely no sense:

Surfers have many unwritten rules of etiquette. Changing at the beach is one of them. “If someone travels to the beach with their wet suit already on, they’re considered a bad surfer right there,” Mr. Mattison said.

And so do we*:

(The Piercing Gaze of Fredliness)

*[Actually the glasses-over-the-helmet-straps thing does make sense since if your helmet is properly adjusted the straps can squeeze your glasses, but frankly you can wear your glasses upside down and your helmet on your ass for all I care.]

By the way, why are you a bad surfer if you wear your wetsuit to the beach?  I mean sure, I guess I can see how it's dorky, like people who ride to the grocery store and shop with their helmets on, but does it also somehow affect your surfing performance?  Is there something about letting the ocean breeze caress your perineum as you change behind the door of your vintage Bronco that puts you in touch with surfing's ineffable zen-like quality in a way that stewing in your own crotchal juices on the A train does not?

Then of course you've got the wobbly noobs:

Later on that cold and cloudy February day, after his 90-minute subway journey through Manhattan and Brooklyn to Queens, Mr. Crowley stood with Mr. Mattison and looked out over the Atlantic. It was 8:30 a.m. and there were already 20 surfers in the water despite the dinky, one-foot-high swell. They watched two surfers nearly run into each other trying to catch the same wave.

“Only at Rockaway,” Mr. Mattison said.

I guess that's like when you ride over the George Washington Bridge on a weekend and have to wait behind 30 Freds and Tridorks who can't negotiate the switchback on the Manhattan side without clipping out of their pedals.

But of course the greatest part about all of this is the idea that a small group of surfers can claim ownership of something as vast as the sea because they happen to have been born nearby, or because know when and where to get dressed:

(The disembodied hand of Bob Ross.)

Also absurd is the notion that a stretch of beach that's easily accessible by subway and bicycle should somehow remain free of city-dwellers in search of beach fun and the businesses that cater to them:

Mr. Vasquez compared the Rockaway surfer scene to what’s happened to New York in general. “There’s a grittiness that you miss about the old New York. It’s the same with the beach. You felt like it was your special thing. Now everyone wants to be a surfer.”

Wow, wanting to surf at the beach, imagine that.  I mean it's only been a resort since the 19th century:

Though I hear they'd totally "spear" you if you arrived at the beach in your swimming costume instead of changing into it in one of those old-timey beach huts:

(Locals only, bro.)

Granted, certainly when I was growing up nearby it was hard to believe Rockaway was ever a resort (though Rockaways' Playland was still open), but the fact remains that in the context of New York City history a non-touristy Rockaway is basically an aberration.  And of course as a cyclist (as well as someone who used to go to Rockaways' Playland) I certainly relate to the grousing about people who don't "get it," but you have to give people the time to figure out that there's something to be got.

The bottom line is that if there are two things people enjoy doing it's riding bikes and going to the beach, so if you don't like other people doing it too you're going to have a really hard time.

I guess what I'm saying is that we should all be more accepting and focus our derision on those damn kiteboarders.