Bros Before Freds: Dudes Will Be Dudes

As per last Tuesday's post, "bikepacking" is The Big Thing now.  So what is bikepacking?  Well, I'm not exactly the outdoorsy type (I like to sleep indoors, and "roughing it" to me means using a bathroom without a bidet), but my understanding of it is that it's basically just bro-ified bike touring on faster bicycles.

Indeed, as I've pointed out before, cycling trends today seem to be increasingly bro-driven, to the extent that these bros are literally shitting all over their own events--to wit, the death of something called the "Oregon Outback" (via a reader named Mike):

Not sure what I’m talking about? Here’s a rundown of some of the things that happened on the Oregon Outback this year, from kind of bad to horrendous:

1. Leaving garbage all along the route
2. Leaving bushcamp sites full of actual shit and used TP, not only not burying it, but leaving actual shit and used TP in the campsites
3. Leaving garbage all over the barn that a local opened up to folks in Silver Lake during the first, rainy night
4. Leaving the park in Silver Lake in enough disrepair that the city passed a new ordinance banning camping
5. Someone taking an actual shit in the yard of the nice folks who opened up their barn for riders to camp (see #3 above, same barn…)

Nicely done.

It would appear that the same people who were riding fixies and "laying down fat skids" all over the city 10 years ago have now moved onto laying down fat craps all over the countryside.

Meanwhile, the bike companies are more than happy to pander to this sense of frat-boyish adventure, and to that end Cannondale have released the full-length promotional video for that ungodly front-suspension road bike I mentioned yesterday:



The film opens with two duders--pro cyclocrossing dude Tim Johnson and pro Cannondaling dude David Devine--fueling up for a big ride and addressing each-other as "dude" in laconic dude-like drawls:

The dialogue centers around how they like totally don't know what to expect from this ride, since it's going to involve all sorts of terrain, and they're going to be riding a whole new style of bike, the likes of which the world has never seen--all of which seems particularly disingenuous since presumably they've been planning both the ride and the bicycle for quite some time now, not to mention hired a film crew, so obviously they know goddamn well exactly what to expect.

Anyway, we're suppose to have the sense that these two duders are riding off the edge of the known universe and into the void, but a brief clip of the bike going down a set of stairs allays our fears and reassures us that yes, we're watching a promotional video, and yes, the bike is going to be like totally awesome:

But most importantly, cycling will never be the same again:

"There's a lot of people that don't care about racing.  I think that's something that's easily forgotten."

At which point they cut to the REALLY FAST RIDING!

Tim Johnson promoting a bike for people who don't care about racing is like Anthony Bourdain promoting a line of garden burgers.

By the way, it's enough with the fucking gravel already:

At this point, you may be wondering why you need a road bike with front suspension and 650b wheels to ride up a loose gravel climb.  Well, here are a bunch of random numbers:

Am I crazy, or does that say they're on a 72% gradient?  Because wouldn't that look like this?

Or do they just mean they're riding past something with a 72% gradient?

Either way, here they are, TOTALLY NOT RACING:

And here they are again, thinking about the bike and what it means in the grand scheme of human existence:

"You work all day, it's a grind.  You travel all the time, it's a grind.  Whatever that is and you wanna get away from it, then you do wanna go get lost and you wanna find a new place to ride or I've seen that turn and I've never taken it, I wanna take it, you know, see what happens..."

Wow, you mean the Lefty lets you turn the bike whenever you feel like it in a direction of your choosing?

Incredible.

Well, they set out to blow minds, and they certainly succeeded, because I feel like I'm riding into a whole new era of gimmickry and pretention:

Indeed, this could be you, bunnyhopping the chains of society:

Duuude.

But while this marketing video may be a bit silly, it's practically a Werner Herzog documentary compared to the marketing efforts of your typical aspiring Kickstarter entrepreneur.  For example, here's an email I received yesterday from the "Broken Bones Bicycle Company" (not to be confused with the punk band of the same name):

Hello Bike Snob! I’m writing to let you know about my Kickstarter for the Broken Bones Bicycle Company.  You are doing some cool and original stuff in the cycling world so I thought you might be interested.  

You might be wondering about the name.  Broken Bones is an acknowledgment of the danger we face every time we get on the bike.  It’s a tribute to every rider who’s ever fallen and gotten back up.  We crash and we crash and we get back up.

I also wanted to tell you about is the short film I made called “My Daddy Rides a Bicycle”.  It’s very short but it’s a real tearjerker.  You can find it on the Kickstarter page.

If you like what you see, please pass it along.

"We crash and we crash and we get back up"?  

Really?

You're probably thinking he must be a triathlete, but alas, it's clear from the video that he's merely a terminal Fred:

As the film begins we find our Fredly hero crawling towards his broken bike after a crash:

Presumably because he tried to get all Tim Johnson and break the chains of society without using a 650b front suspension road bike.

We soon learn that amateur bike racers are American heroes, right up there with veterans and firefighters:

"My daddy rides a bicycle.  My daddy's a bike racer.  He trains hard every day.  Sometimes he crashes, but he says sometimes we all fall down.  The important thing is that you get back up.  I love my daddy and all his broken bones."

Oy.

Then he replaces his broken Fred Sled with another and takes off again:

Well, he's right, this video sure is a tearjerker.  It's like listening to a kid whose father's a junkie.  He rides, he falls, he waits for his bones to knit, and then he does it all over again.  Meanwhile the kid's alone at home, broken shards of crabon his only playthings.

This is followed by a lengthy and boastful discourse on the extent of his Fredding-related injuries:

"I'm lying there in the hospital bed, looking through a cycling magazine ... the sport as it's presented in the magazine is very plain, very elegant, kind of boring and simple..."

From which we can infer he was reading Bicycling:

(Bicycling's target readership is injured Freds on painkillers.)

So he resolves to start a bike company that reflects his unnecessarily crashy version of the sport.

"Broken Bones is meant to be a tribute to every rider who's ever fallen off and gotten back up.  It's a tribute to the danger we face every time we step over the bike."

I think what he means by that is it's a tribute to every rider he's ever crossed wheels with and taken out, and to the danger they face every time they ride in the same pack with him.  If nothing else, this video is a valuable public service, because it's a warning to the entire cycling world to NEVER, EVER GET INTO A PACELINE WITH THIS GUY.

By the way, if his company is all about crashing, why does he make his bikes out of crabon?

Based on everything he's said so far they're not going to last a week.

Seems like some kind of rubber would have been a better choice.

And sweet fancy lob, what the hell is it with Los Angeles?  They've got to have the cheesiest Fred scene on the planet Earth:

(Never forget.)

I think Broken Bones guy aspires to be the second coming of Michael Ball:

But wait, it gets cheesier:

"I spent a lot of time on social media and we decided we wanted to enter the fixie market."

Nothing good has ever followed the words "I spent a lot of time on social media...," and this is no exception.  Usually spending lots of time on social media results in sending people unsolicited pictures of your genitals, but hawking fixies is only marginally better:

I'd say "kill it with fire" but it looks like someone already tried.

Oh, by the way, the new crabon road frame is called..."The Fracture:"

Pro marketing tip: don't name your crabon bike after the way in which it's most likely to fail.

That's like calling your line of bib shorts the tinea cruris.

At the very least, find a pro bike racer to sit in a field and wax poetic about it instead.

And, if at all possible, fit it with a suspension fork.

Purple Prose Is The New Purple Anodization

What a glorious weekend it was!

(Weather-wise I mean.  I had a massive pimple on the inside of my nose that made my weekend a living hell.)

Indeed, for the first time in 2015, I rode with exposed calves.  It was profoundly liberating to expose my pale, sickly flesh to the world (but profoundly nauseating if you weren't me).  Indeed, there were moments during my ride when I came close to experiencing pure bliss--but then I'd put a finger on my nostril to blow a snot rocket and OH I FORGOT ABOUT THE PIMPLE THE PAIN THE PAIN THERE IS NO GOD WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!?!

The other thing I did for the very first time was wear the official Fred "Woo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo!" speed jersey from Walz:

So have I been hawking a jersey all winter long that I've never actually tried beyond walking around the living room in it while wearing nothing else but my underpants?  Sure.  But now that I've ridden in it, you can believe me when I tell you that this is one comfortable jersey.  Slipping it on is like swaddling yourself in the finest silk.  Climbing is effortless in this jersey--even on the steepest gradient you'll feel like a baby being lovingly lifted from a cradle by a highly-skilled nanny.  And descending?  Forget about it.  Time will stand still.  Even at Fred "Woo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo!" speed you'll feel like a tuft of down falling off a molting owl's ass.  Don't believe me?  Here's a nipple "selfie" I took at 80mph:

OK, I admit some of that was hyperbole.  Yes, the Fred "Woo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo!" is very possibly the most comfortable jersey I own, but I've been reading a lot of bike reviews lately, and the narrative style is starting to rub off on me.  In fact, my very favorite stylistic element of bike review prose is the "Spurious Anecdote," which is basically a highly dubious story that's designed to prove the author's ridiculous premise.  (The author's premise is almost always "You need to spend a shitload of money on this plastic bike.")  Consider this review for the Trek Domane Disc 6.9 which I was reading on the terlet this morning:

Here's the "Spurious Anecdote:"

And going down, oh my. Here's an anecdote that summarizes my experience: Coming off a high mountain pass in Colorado, I saw that I was closing in on a slower-moving car in my lane, and sat up to have a drink. I casually glanced at my bike computer and noticed that I was moving at nearly 60 mph—with just one hand on the bar, the bike still brilliantly composed.

Going down indeed.  I can hear John Burke moaning from here.  60mph?  One-handed?  Drinking?!?  Come on.  Yeah, I'm sure if you spend $8,000 on a Trek it will miraculously transform the act of high-speed descending into something like sipping a G&T on the bow of a yacht while off-handedly glancing at your Rolex.  (Note to "Bicycling:" you can keep that simile, by the way.)

But while creating a good "Spurious Anecdote" may seem like nothing more than unchecked exaggeration, it's not that simple.  No, there are strict rules to the form, and you need to include either 1) A superhuman feat the bike allowed you to do (see above); or else 2) A situation in which you totally get over on suckers with lesser equipment--to wit:

As I headed up Second on my lap of 2-5-10, the Colnago ascended smoothly, allowing me to maintain a conversation without gasping. When the road pitched down, our group of 20 spread out as we gained speed. Heading toward the first left-hander, I closed in on two riders pedaling side by side. I thought about braking, then didn't. A crease had opened between them and I slipped through, instinctively, nearly impetuously.

"Whoosh!"  Suckers.  Also, note that "the Colnago ascended smoothly, allowing me to maintain a conversation without gasping."  See, he didn't ascend, the Colnago did it for him--so much so that he didn't even breathe heavily.  So basically it's not a bike.  It's a combination horse/asthma inhaler.

Yes, personification is a highly useful literary device when reviewing bicycles, and this reviewer uses it to great effect:

Given the low weight and stiff frame, I expected the bike to leap forward and was surprised when it didn't. Instead, speed increased steadily rather than in chaotic bursts. The bike maneuvered with a similar calmness. Initiate line changes with your hips and the bike snaps across the apex.

Furthermore, he combines personification with yet another effective tool, which is making up an undesirable thing no bike ever does, and then saying this bike is good because it doesn't do that thing that never happens, as in: "I expected the bike to leap forward and was surprised when it didn't."  Why is he surprised?  What bike that isn't a motorcycle has ever done that???  He might as well have said, "I expected the bike to throw me to the ground, remove its own saddle, and begin pegging me.  I was surprised when it didn't."

Surprised, and perhaps disappointed.

And I don't mean to single out Bicycling here, because it was Lennard Zinn who penned what may be my favorite "Spurious Anectode" of all time:

A couple of weekends ago, we had a race here at the nearby Flatirons Mall on a grassy hillside above the Denver-Boulder Turnpike. One corner was an uphill buttonhook around a tree after dropping off of a downhill sidewalk and descending along the sidehill. I noticed most riders in my category repeatedly pumping their lever to shift from their smallest cog to their largest in anticipation of the buttonhook that required coming to a near stop and then turning sharply left uphill. They couldn’t pedal hard down toward the corner due to the decreasing gear as well as all of the hard effort from their right arm. I, on the other hand, could pedal most of the way to the corner in a high gear, and just as I started applying my brakes, I could just hold down the right downshift lever and keep turning my feet. It doesn’t require nearly the force, concentration, or time to make the shift all of the way from one end of the cogset to the other, and I closed some gaps on that downhill that way.

The best "Spurious Anecdotes" unwittingly undermine themselves by underscoring how absurd the pursuit of amateur glory on an expensive bicycle is--in this case, a middle-aged man using an expensive, state-of-the-art electronic shifting system to defeat other middle-aged men with lesser equipment in a bike race being held behind a shopping mall.

Then again, professional cyclists are no less ridiculous.  Consider yesterday's Paris-Roubaix, in which a number of riders slipped through a railroad crossing as a high-speed train approached:

"Several riders deliberately, and against all safety rules, crossed a closed safety barrier," said a SNCF statement. “Millions of television viewers saw live this extremely grave and irresponsible action which could have been tragic.”

As the peloton approached the crossing, the barriers began falling. Riders rode on through, around and under the barriers. AFP reports that one rider was hit by a closing barrier, and that eventual winner John Degenkolb was amongst those who went through.

That is textbook Freds-on-the-Sunday-group-ride behavior--like the guy on the Serotta who runs a solid red light at a busy intersection so he doesn't get dropped from the Gimbels Ride.

Lastly, the New York Times recently ran a story written by a bicycle messenger:

It was mostly an enjoyable read, though this passage was a bit jarring:

I scanned my body for pain. It seemed I was O.K. Only then did I realize that I was sitting in a sea of aluminum cans. They were spilling out of the giant trash bags that the other cyclist, who was now on the ground next to me, had been carrying on his bike, apparently on his way to delivering them to a recycling center.

Amid the cans, I thought for a second about how just a few weeks ago I had been living with my parents in the suburbs of Kansas City. How strange that I was now sitting on a wet Manhattan street next to a complete stranger. But during our brief encounter, when he came over to help me up and see if I was O.K., I thought about what we did have in common: We were both working with our bikes.

Sure, the transplant from the suburbs of Kansas City is exactly like the person collecting cans for a living.

In any case, that crash would never have happened had she been riding the Colnago V1-r.

You Can't Spell "Innovation" Without "In," "Vat," or "On." Think About It.

Innovation.

Innovation is the driving force behind the bicycle.  So vital is innovation to the cycling industry that there's a company whose motto is "Innovate Or Die."  I can't remember who it is though.  I think maybe it's Cannondale.  Or is it Trek?

Doesn't matter really, it's all the same crap.

Anyway, innovation is what brought us from the pennyfarthing:

To the "safety bicycle:"

(Hipster)

And then for a brief period back to the pennyfarthing, only with three wheels:

After that innovation stood still, trackstanding in time like a fakenger at  a red light that never changes.

Until now.

Thanks to the Internet, and in particular the popularity of crowd-sourced funding or whatever you call it, we have entered a new golden age of bicycling innovation fueled by the creative energy of people who have been riding bikes for months, and in some cases even a handful of years, though more often than not, I suspect, not at all.  Consider the work of Null Winds Technology:



No, "Null Winds" is not an insult, like "dim bulb" or "numbskull."  Null Winds is the cutting-edge think tank behind "Upper Wheel Fairings," which are basically skirt guards for Freds:

"For decades, the bicycling industry has been focussed on improving aerodynamics for the benefit of racing, where the use of fairings is strictly forbidden.  The rest of us, however, need not adhere to this senseless drag-inducing restriction."

As a potential investor (yeah, right), three (3) questions leap immediately to mind, and they are as follows:

1) If Freds won't put fenders on their bikes, what makes this null wind think they'll spoil the "elegant lines" of their plastic dork chariots with these?

2) What about crosswinds?

3) If you don't care about racing, why solicit endorsements from "Cat 2s?"

(What, you couldn't have found a Cat 1?  Give 'em a pair of free tires and they'll say just about anything.)

Love the Cat 2's use of "it is my conclusion," by the way.  That always makes you sound smart.

Anyway, even Freds who don't race should at least loosely adhere to the "senseless drag-inducing restriction" of racing, in the same way people who play pick-up basketball in the park need to adhere to the "senseless shortness-inducing restriction" of not being allowed to wear stilts.  Otherwise, what's to stop your local Sunday group ride from turning into an all-out recumbent freak-fest?

Fairings are only the beginning, so if you see them on your ride stomp them out immediately, lest you find yourself horizontal by next season.

Another part of the bicycle benefitting from both mental flatulence and rider inexperience is the so-called "clipless pedal:"



Like all Kickstarter inventions, this one has a backstory of mild incompetence behind it, and like all Kickstarter inventors, this one rides a Specialized:

(Seriously, they all ride Specializeds!)

Here's that story:

"I started mountain biking five years ago and I found myself struggling to clip into my pedals."

First of all, if you are still having trouble clipping into a pair of halfway decent mountain bike pedals after five years of riding then perhaps clipless pedals aren't for you.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, by the way!  Sure, clipless pedals have their benefits in certain situations, but if you find them to be a pain in the ass just ditch them and be done with it.

But common sense is not the hallmark of the Kickstarter inventor.  Instead, he also uses clipless pedals for his commute, where they really don't do shit for you:

"The more time I spent looking down at my pedals, the less time I spent paying attention to hazards on the road."

A couple of points:

1) Clipping into your pedals is like carrying a beverage from the bar back to your table.  The best way to do it successfully is to not look down;

2) If you're futzing with your clipless pedals to the extent that you risk getting hit by a car, you should not only consider a move to flat pedals, but you also might want to consider leasing a Hyundai in the interim.

But hey, if the mountain won't come to Fred, invent a little foot clitoris instead:

Apparently it's called the "Infinity Pedal," though I think the "Hot Spot" would be a better name:

(Platform schmatform.)

Also, the spring is conveniently exposed to the elements, which is exactly what you want in an all-terrain pedal:

Really, how do you market a mountain bike pedal without at least one image of the thing actually functioning in mud?

Then again, it did win an award--in Utah no less--so perhaps my concerns are unwarranted:

Also, apparently a huge number of people have similar trouble clipping into the many, many, many excellent clipless pedal options already on the market, because he's raised a shitload of money:

It's a real testament to the power of bicycle marketing that so many people who would clearly be much more happy and comfortable on simple platform pedals nevertheless insist on attaching themselves to their bicycles.

Penultimately, what do you think when you read this?

Triathlonbox - A British solution to Triathlon box juggling

Do you think engineering elegance?  Of course you don't!  "Triathlon?"  "British solution?"  Oh boy, this is gonna be ugly:


Leave it to the British to figure out how to convert a time trial bike into a bakfiets:

"No longer do you have to struggle with your box," says the video, and nor do you have to struggle to find a sordid double meaning in that sentence:

And check out those enthusiastic endorsements:

Good idea – Joe Friel - writer of Triathletes Training Bible (via Twitter)

Good idea indeed:

Lastly, Stephane in Munich informs me that you can now buy an appropriate balance bike for your "status child:"

Actually, they should offer that in adult sizes too.  It's a perfect solution for all those people having pedal trouble.

What A Load: Bike Blogging About Bikes Because This Is A Blog About Bikes

After hocking the loogie that was yesterday's post onto the subway tracks that are the Internet, I saddled up and pedaled off, and the ride home from the café wasn't too shabby either:

Moving out of Brooklyn was the smartest thing I've done in a long time--though admittedly that doesn't mean much, since almost everything I do is dumb, so in my life the bar for smart sits pretty low.

Maybe one day I will organize the Wildcat Rock Machine New York City Anti-Fondo--though I probably won't.

Also, if yesterday's ride wasn't baronial enough for you, keep in mind that I also rode my kid to Apple Inc. child labor camp on either end of it, meaning I changed bikes twice, which pushes yesterday's cycling exploits up into the realm of the über-baronial:

Hey, I live in the New York City hill country, so that little commute is no joke, and I'm easily pushing something like 400 Imperial Fuck-Tonnes of leather, metal, and plastic each way.  I have to bring the little kiddie bike all the time too, because despite my best efforts to discourage my child from riding he loves to do it anyway.  Hopefully I can at least steer him away from the path to Fred-dom on which I wasted so many years and dollars, though I suppose our progeny live to spite us, and I dread one day catching him shaving his legs and applying "embro" while pedaling away on rollers and watching "Breaking Away" in his Google Monocle or whatever people are using to watch movies on by then.

Speaking of Big Dummies (both myself and the bike), I've had one for something like four years now.  In that time, it's become an indispensable part of my life.  So, while it may still be a little early for an actual "long-term review" (check back with me in ten more years), I think that at least an update is warranted.  (By the way, Surly did not ask me to do this.  I don't think I've been in touch with anyone from Surly in like three years.  I just figured someone might find this useful, and I like to think I'm the only bike blogger on the Internet who uses a piece of cycling equipment for more than six months.)

Here's what the bike looked like when I took delivery of it in, I believe, 2010:

That's pretty much exactly how it came out of the box, apart from the pedals, which weren't included.

In that time, I have made the following changes or additions (not counting bell and lights and little bric-a-brac like that):

--Ergon Dork-O-Matic Labia Grips;
--Xtracycle Peapod and plastic snapdeck thingy (the kid has nearly outgrown the Peapod, soon I can just sit him on the bench and be done with it);
--Xtracycle WideLoaders (you take them on and off as needed, they are handy but tend to clip parked cars and slam you in the Achilles tendon if you're not careful);
--Fenders;
--A Brooks saddle, which has held up just fine despite spending a good portion of its life outside, and which has conformed lovingly to the contours of my scranus:

(You just barfed.)

I have not made the following changes out of cheapness and laziness, which I really, really should:

--A center stand

Seriously, using a cargo bike with only a kickstand is a major pain in the ass.  I'm an idiot for putting up with it for this long, having dumped the bike while loading it more than once, fortunately never with a human child on board.

I have also not made and will probably never make the following very expensive fantasy changes, which are not even remotely necessary but which would be really nice to have:

--A Rohloff hub, or at least some kind of robust internally geared thingy (this bike sits outside a lot and such a thing would probably better handle that level of neglect);
--Some kind of electrical assist (I admit it, now that I live in the New York City hill country it would be pretty nice to have).

As far as maintenance, I've done as little as possible, and everything has held up very well despite that.  I have not touched the hubs, and last I checked the bearings were still smooth.  I have not changed the chain, chainrings, or cassette, and they're fine.  The Surly bottom bracket it came with developed some play I could not get rid of, but I replaced it with a used bottom bracket from my parts bin and it's been fine ever since.  Obviously, I've changed the brake pads.  As far as cables, I have replaced only the rear derailleur cable once, though all the cables and housings are overdue for replacement.  (The rear shifting is the first thing to go when the bike sits outside in the rain, thanks in part to the half-mile cable run.)  Incredibly, I have not yet needed to change the tires, even the rear.  I don't know if this is because they're incredibly durable, or if it's because having the rear wheel 500 feet from your posterior instead of right under it makes it wear more slowly.  The wheels in gestalt have been problem-free, and I've ridden the bike as pictured above, fully loaded with both kiddie bike and actual kid, over multiple railroad ties without any problems apart from ejecting random stuff from the cargo bags.  (Parenting tip: kids love riding over railroad ties.)

In short, the Big Dummy is as robust as it is long and green, though I really should do a complete overhaul this spring, because it needs new cables and it's ticking from somewhere, and there are probably also squirrels living in it.

Anyway, if you're considering a bike like this maybe you'll find some of the above useful.  I'll also add that, if you like to ride bikes and you have kids, a bike like this that is somewhat "sporting" and that your child can also fall asleep on will do wonders for your quality of life.

If you don't have kids, stick to your 7-hour Fred rides.

Lastly, here's an invention that's completely gratuitous, even by Kickstarter standards:


Good lord!  It took a year to invent a freaking pedal-cozy?!?  Can't you just put an old sock on it?