Rebel Without A Pawls

Alas, clearly I left Californy too early, because I missed the Sea Otter, which is where all the cool bikey media people go.  Consequently I've been forced to catch up on the latest bike tech via the Internet like the rest of you plebians, though I've already given up because reading this made my brain hurt:

Most hubs that use magnets to actuate the pawls use repelling magnets that push the pawls against the ratchet ring. Project 321, however, flips the magnets around so they’re instead pulled outward. It may seem like the exact same thing, but unlike the linear rate of conventional steel springs, magnets have a sharply digressive spring curve, meaning the effects are very strong when the parts are close together, but fall off quickly with increasing distance. As a result, the pawls supposedly hold tight when they’re up against the ratchet ring, but there’s little force pushing them outward when coasting, so they run very quietly and with minimal drag. As a bonus, the pawls don’t go flying when you remove the freehub body during regular maintenance, either.

After reading the above I am left speechless, floating adrift in a sea of "duh" with only with this stale meme as my life preserver:

I can't believe that all these years I hadn't considered the digressive spring curve of my hub pawls, and now that I know just how remiss I've been I'm losing sleep over all the performance I've squandered.

Speaking of squandered performance, once again I took part in a bicycle cycling race this past weekend, and I'm pleased to report I passed:

The race couldn't have played out more perfectly for a pass/fail racer.  See, when you're racing only to finish what you want is for a group to get away early and then stay clear, which means the rest of the pack eventually falls victim to a sense of resignation and rides at a steady pace until the race is over.  Conversely, your worst nightmare is that the entire race is a series of attacks and counterattacks, a breakaway or split never establishes itself, and you're subjected to constant painful surges resulting in pesky gaps that require closing.  Fortunately it was the former scenario that applied to this particular velocipedal contest, and so I remained present in it (if not relevant to it) for the duration.

And if you're wondering why I bother to race bikes when I spend the whole time hoping that nobody actually races, all I can say to you is that you just don't get it, do you?

Yes, that's right, it's Stale Meme Monday here on BSNYC!

Stale Meme Monday is brought to you by Project 321, makers of the awesome magnetic hub pawl system that boasts the most sharply digressive spring curve in the industry.  Remember: there is nothing more important than freehub engagement, and races have been won and lost due to the milliseconds of engagement lag you'll find in inferior hubs.  Anyway, my prediction is that Project 321 will remain the industry leader in freehub engagement until another company comes up with some sort of Predictive Engagement System by which the hub actually engages before you even start pedaling again. 

So in other words, a fixed gear.

In any case, moving back to the race, the most dramatic moment for me was during the very last lap when a rider ordered me to the back of the pack.  After I got over my initial shock that I wasn't already at the very back I asked, "Why?," to which he replied that I was in the wrong field.  Of course I realize that at this point in my life everything about my cycling wardrobe and physical shape screams "Race Clinic Participant," but the fact remains that I was indeed in the right field.  I assured him as much, but still he puzzled over my presence, and he only relented somewhere around Engineers' Gate. 

Of course even if I had snuck into the wrong field the fact was that all the places were well up the road by that point, and if on the last lap of a race you're riding easy enough to engage in conversations about which field people belong in then the race is effectively over anyway so the presence of any rogue hangers-on is largely irrelevant.  Nevertheless, perhaps next time instead of gentle reassurance I'll scream DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM and then unfurl this picture of me addressing an adoring crowd:

(From here.)

That's exactly what I was wearing during the race, by the way, which could have led in part to the misunderstanding.

Actually it's probably a good thing I didn't go to Sea Otter, because I can only imagine how often I'd have to justify my presence among all those "real" cycling journalists. 

What was that old meme about not getting any respect again...?