The name Wednesday continues Middle English Wednesdei. Old English still had wōdnesdæg, which would be continued as *Wodnesday (but Old Frisian has an attested wednesdei). By the early 13th century, the i-mutated form was introduced unetymologically.

Firstly, here's today's Happy Wednesday Fun Fact, brought to you by the Wicking Pedia:

According to the Thai solar calendar, the color associated with Wednesday is green.

Interpret that as you will.

Secondly, yesterday I took the bus, and it wasn't even raining!  Here's what the cockpit looked like:

(Sun-drenched bus cockpit.)

I almost never take the bus, and when life conspires to force me out of my home I generally look to the bicycle--unless the distance I need to travel from my home is shorter than the length of an actual bicycle, in which case I walk because riding there would just be silly.  (For example, I don't ride to my next-door neighbors' apartment when I need to borrow some maple syrup for my bath.  When your rear wheel's at your departure point and your front wheel is at your destination you're only being stupid.)  Or, if the weather is especially foul, I might take the subway instead, since at this point in my life I simply have nothing to prove by riding in foul weather.  (If I did I'd actually put on pants once in awhile.)

Generally speaking, however, the bus simply does not enter into my consideration.

But it did yesterday, because yesterday I was picking up a Budnitz.  I did not have the Budnitz dropped off at my home for the simple reason that I don't want anyone seeing my home.  (My next-door neighbor Martin Amis resents the intrusions, and he's mad enough as it is since I keep "popping 'round" for maple syrup wearing only a bath towel.)  Instead, I had it delivered a short distance from my home, but not short enough to walk, and I wasn't going to ride there because I had to ride the Budnitz home, and the subway was out of my way, and then I realized our meeting point was right on the bus line, and next thing you know I was on a fucking bus.

I took the bus.

Also, there was a certain elegance in the juxtaposition of the bus trip and the ride home on this lavishly expensive designer douche chariot:

(Budnitz No. 1, as photographed by Martin Amis)

All of this is to say rather circuitously that I'm now in temporary position of a loaner Budnitz.

Now that you're up to speed, I hope you'll indulge me and allow me to get serious for just a moment:

Puppy Disease

Sorry, sometimes you have to be heavy-handed in order to set a serious tone.

Also, while we're being serious, I'd like to point out that I've been writing this blog for something like five years.  Sure, I'm a hack; yes, my blog looks like crap; absolutely, I wrote my best post sometime during week two and it's been on a downhill slide ever since.  Nevertheless, you'd think my sheer longevity would afford me just a tiny bit of respect.

But you'd be wrong.

More specifically, let's say you're giving a bike blogger a $5,600 titanium bicycle to review.  And let's say that bike blogger's entire raison d'être is making fun of expensive stuff and pointing out embarrassing errors and oversights on the part of marketing people.  And let's also say for the sake of argument that you hope your exquisitely-crafted $5,600 titanium dream bike will win him over and melt his icy heart, if not force him to eat his words.  Well, certainly you'd give the bicycle at least a cursory examination before handing it over to make sure, for example, that the wheels are properly installed in the frame.

Here you'd be wrong as well.

No, when the Budnitz marketing guy handed over the Budnitz the first thing I noticed was that the rear wheel bolt-on skewer was not tightened.  I don't mean it was a little loose, either; I mean it was open to the extent that you could fully rock it back and forth in the dropouts.  Surprised, I pointed this out to the marketing guy, figuring he must have transported the bicycle by car or by subway and simply didn't notice.  Instead, I was shocked to learn, he had ridden it all the way to Brooklyn from Manhattan that way and said he hadn't noticed.  I'm amazed that the wheel didn't pop out when he was going over the bridge, but I guess that's why the Almighty Lobster On High invented the vertical dropout.

Now I should say at this point that I don't want to get this guy in trouble with Old Man Budnitz or anything like that.  He's a very nice guy.  He was punctual.  He was accommodating.  He went way out of his way to lend me a bike.  At the same time, it seems to me that handing a nitpicky blogger a bike in this state is like a fashion designer lending Vogue a suit with pecker tracks in the crotch, and as such I feel it's my obligation to report it.

Anyway, we went to tighten the bolt-on quick release, but for some reason it wouldn't turn.  I figured it must be bottoming out somehow, or that maybe there was some theft-proofing mechanism that wasn't immediately apparent to me in my hurried squatting-on-the-sidewalk state.  So finally, figuring he had made it this far and that I would probably survive too, I just rode it home as it was and refrained from using the rear brake.  The bike creaked as I pedaled, almost certainly due to the loose skewer, which further led me to wonder how he hadn't noticed it.  (Though it did distract me from the clunking of the headset, which was also rather loose.)  Finally I got home and removed the skewer, at which point I learned that the reason it wouldn't turn was that the little spring was hopelessly mangled and caught in the nut:

So I replaced it with one of those cheesy plastic ones that would doubtless make Old Man Budnitz plotz:

(Eeew!  It's not titanium!)

I also tightened the headset and made various other adjustments, at which point it suddenly occurred to me that they probably weren't lending me the bike to review, since the typical Budnitz customer would never read this blog.  Instead, they probably pawned their tester off on me for the free maintenance!

It was a chilling and humbling revelation.

By the way, at this point you may have noticed I've spent more time futzing with the bike than I have riding it, which is exactly why all these bike reviews you read in all these magazines and websites are so ridiculous.  What most of them call a "long-term test" is, in the real world, barely enough time for a bicycle to be broken in.  You can't properly evaluate a bicycle until you've worn through at least one set of tires, brake pads, cogs, and grips.

Nevertheless, I do intend to use the bike in the manner in which its marketed, by which I mean as a "city bike," and that will involve locking it up outside if need be, here in my hometown of New York City, bike theft capital of the USA.  Shrewdly, Budnitz have equipped this city bike with fancyschmancy everything: Fizik Aliante saddle, White Industries hubs, Paul brake levers, and even a titanium Chris King headset (about three times more expensive than a "regular" aluminum one) to make it sting that much more when the bike eventually gets stolen.  Therefore, last night I set about "uglifying" the bike like they're always telling you to do in those stupid Internet theft-proofing instructionals.  Here's what I did.

First, I found the ugliest picture I could:

(Ugh, revolting.)

Then I made with the scissors:

(Ikea scissors, non-titanium version.)

And showed that, while I'm helpless when it comes to digital imaging, my old-school artz and craftz skillz are positively top-notch:

Next I fired up the frugal man's laminator (clear insulating tape):

And stuck the whole mess right on the downtube:

It was touch to apply since the bike is so damn swoopy.  Even so I doubt anyone will touch it in this condition, and I'm sure Old Man Budnitz is beside himself by now.

Moving on, while Budnitz spared no expense in "speccing" the No. 1, I may still upgrade to the "bong trigger rims," as forwarded by a reader:

vintage specialized carbon fiber road bike - $700 (mission district)
Date: 2012-09-25, 7:34PM PDT

vintage specialized road bikes super light 16 full carbon fiber frame and forks richie crank bong trigger rims and tires all the components on this bike Shimano 600 except for the derailer it's dur 1 sweet ride interested Rick (650)630 [deleted]

Though I'm not sure if they're "dick brake" compatible (via the Tweeter):

full suspension PacificYX8500 - $125 (Gresham.OR`)

Date: 2012-09-24, 8:29PM PDT

selling a 24 speed Full suspension mt PacificYX 8500

has a front dick brake

Easy of front tire

125 or best offer

Call or text

503 [deleted]

And I'd gladly trade the Budnitz for this baby:

The bicycle above forwarded to me by a reader who saw it on the Cincinnati Craigslist. ("Cincinnati Craigslist" sounds like a euphemism for a particularly filthy sex act.)  Sadly the ad has since been deleted, but happily the image survives.

Lastly, you can still submit an entry to the Second Biennial Cock-Off contest, but not for long.  Here's a refreshingly subtle entry:

I call this style "The Weightlifter:"

Then there's this one, for which the entrant was kind enough to supply a completed checklist:

• the eye-hook mounted through the toptube.
• the plastic bags
• the bungee corded lock
• the upsidedown bars
• the two mirrors
• the electrical tape bar-tape
• one bell
• one light mount (no light)
• one computer
• one electrical taped Canada flag, with spear tip
• two cell phone holders
• one bar mounted bag (ziptied)

Here's that eye-hook:

And the plastic bags:

Which leads me to believe it's a dedicated dog-walking bike--or even a dog-assisted bike, since the handlebar placement is ideal for controlling a bicycle towed by a canine:

The seat also keeps the rider (or, Carl) warm in the Canadian tundra:

Here's the entire bike, photographed at the North Pole:

Finally, there's this astounding canopy bike:

(Keep left!)

Though due to the non-conforming subject line of the entrant's email I may have to disqualify it.

Slip It In: Finding New Places For Crabon

Celebrated American author Charles Dickens began his most celebrated novel, "Hamlet," with the following sentence:

"As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect-like creature."

I don't want to spoil the ending, but Finny dies.

This morning, I woke up to a revelation a thousand times more horrible than any existentialist entomological crisis.  See, as I slept, I had uneasy dreams of Fredness.  Then, when I awoke, I realized that I had been losing precious wattage through inefficient power transfer.

Have you ever gone to a restaurant and ordered a meal, and then when the meal arrives you realize it sucks, but even though it sucks you eat every morsel and sop up all the remaining juices with a piece of bread and then finally lick the plate clean with the enthusiasm and relish of a cat cleaning its privates?  Probably not. Nevertheless, this behavior is the essence of Fredness.  Even though we suck, we labor under the delusion that we need to channel every bit of our pathetic power output and ungainly pedal stroke into the drivetrain of our overpriced bicycles in order to propel us to a rarefied realm of glory and achievement that exists only in our minds.  And when it comes to this behavior, the equivalent of that piece of bread you use to sop up that lousy sauce is the $395 crabon insole, forwarded to me by a reader:

Actually, this insole is not the equivalent of the bread so much as it's the equivalent of paying a surcharge for an ultra-stiff table to help you consume your crappy meal more quickly and efficiently.

Let's just pretend for a moment that there aren't like 26 bones in the human foot, and that it doesn't move at all.  Let's also pretend that you could get a shoe with an upper so stiff and with fasteners so tenacious that you could lock your totally rigid foot with its fused joints into position so firmly that it wouldn't flex so much as a fraction of a millimeter.  Finally, let's pretend that this rigid foot scenario was actually desirable.

On top of this, since we're talking about Freds, we can already assume that the frame is crabon, and the crank is crabon, and the pedal is crabon, and the sole of the shoe is crabon. 

Why, then, would you also need to slip in another layer of crabon in the form of this insole?

Well, because Freds live in a "bizzaro" version of "The Princess of the Pea," and any material even remotely yielding must be eliminated at all costs.  (Apart from their own doughy physiques, of course.) This is why I know my new line of crabon socks is going to be a huge success:

(Crabon sock prototype: laterally stiff and vertically hobbled.)

Or, if you're a "weight weenie," you can just skip the socks and the shoes and opt instead for my crabon insole modification:

The ultra-high modulus crabon toe thong coupled with the three-hole cleat mounting platform transforms your crabon insole into the lightest, stiffest racing flip-flop available.  

Of course, once you've eliminated all traces of flex from your Fred sled you're then ready to hit the park where you can ride around and around in circles while regaling other Freds with tales of your upgrades.  Fortunately, if your park of choice is Brooklyn's Prospect Park, you'll be pleased to know that the Department of Transportation has finally removed the "Barrels of Shame:"

I mentioned the Barrels of Shame last month, but while they may be gone we're only free temporarily because it's only a matter of time before the DOT implements some sort of "Phase II:"

"City transportation officials removed dozens orange traffic barrels intended to slow cyclists on a crash-prone hill in Prospect Park — and now they want your advice on what to do next."

It's odd that the DOT is so concerned with cyclists in the park, yet I've never heard anybody complaining about the high number of cars that speed through it during car-free hours.  For example, the park is closed to cars all weekend long, yet early Saturday morning I actually had to dodge a speeding car salmon.  Of course, he had his hazard lights on, so that makes it OK.  Actually, maybe that's the answer--hazard lights clearly legitimize every type of traffic infraction, so if we were to put them on our bicycles maybe we'd have total immunity too.  

In any case if the DOT really wants suggestions for what to do about cyclists in the park, here's my idea:

Buy us off.

Sure, I can't speak for everybody, but for the low, low price of $100,000 from the City of New York I'd happily agree to never, ever ride my bicycle in Prospect Park again.  Then, I'd take the money and invest in the Crabon Fred Miracle Dynamo Light, invented by acclaimed director Werner Herzog:

I don't know how it works since I'm not very knowledgeable about science, but my guess is that it's filled with tiny demons.  Anyway, I'd be sure to make millions, and then I could buy and sell your measly little park like that. [Snaps fingers to indicate ease with which he could buy and sell park.]

In your face, DOT.

Speaking of entrepreneurial ideas, here in New York City it's fairly commonplace to receive deliveries by bicycle, but a reader informs me there are other parts of the country in which the concept of bicycle delivery is as mysterious as a light filled with tiny demons:

Consider the writer's amazement when a single human is able to carry three (3) whole bottles of wine while riding a bicycle:

I live on a cul-de-sac in downtown Raleigh, south of Oakwood. We're grateful the pizza man even remembers where we are. So it was with awe that I watched as a trim young man on a bike rode up to my front porch and pulled from his Swiss Army backpack three bottles of wine that I had selected online just an hour before.

She should go to Portland, where the sight of a soup delivery bike would probably melt her face:

By the way, if you're like a lot of people you probably have trouble keeping your chowders straight, so when you're ordering soup by bicycle in Portland try to remember:

--New England clam chowder is the white one;

--Manhattan clam chowder is the red one;

and

--Portland clam chowder is the one filled with tiny chunks of smugness.

Also, if it's your first time eating Portland clam chowder you should be very careful--those smugness chunks are a choking hazard.

But while it's oddly satisfying that people are amazed by the concept of bicycle delivery, I miss the days when the bicycle still had the power to terrify a team of horses:

("On Your Left," by Frederic Remington)

A reader tells me the above painting hangs in the Amon Carter museum in Fort Worth, Texas.  Frankly, I'm not sure which is more amazing: that they actually have art museums in Fort Worth, Texas, or that people were once able to undertake "epic" bike rides without the aid of social networking or Kickstarter.  Certainly that's not the case now, and here is his modern-day equivalent:

(Forwarded by yet another reader.)

But while cyclists may not scare horses now, they can make people drop their knitting needles:

Man on bike, cat on sidewalk. - w4m - 21
Date: 2012-02-24, 8:00PM EST
Reply to: [deleted]


I was walking. We made startled, awkward eye contact as I yelled after a tabby that had just run between my feet, "YOU, CAT ! ARE YOU MISSING?" I was trying to communicate with the tabby because, a block prior, I had witnessed a distressed youth hyperventilating before a LOST CAT sign posted to the trunk of a sycamore. You understand. 


You: Were on a bike, waiting on a red light. You probably always wait at red lights. I like that. You looked like you have at least one toddler at home. You're one of those guys who has mastered the art of making "fuck me" eyes with strong undertones of "I'm taken and happy, so get lost" eyes. You were hot. Like, Billy Zane when he's wearing a wig, hot. 


If you are this guy, a lost tabby, or some hyperventilating youth, hit me up. I'm a decent looking brunette, and I'm ready and willing to drop my knitting needles for the time it takes for dinner, a movie, and a good-night kiss on both cheeks. 

Though they're not quite powerful enough to overcome sexual orientation, even when paired with exotic pants:

British gay dude on bike....commented on my pants - w4m - 28 (Manhattan)
Date: 2012-02-27, 12:13AM EST
Reply to: [deleted]


You commented on my bike gear, and considering the fact you were wearing shorts today, we need to have this conversation. My pants were Outlier (outlier.cc) and they're the best pants I've ever owned.


ANYWAYS


You're gay, so this is totally platonic, but I still want to chat with you! You got my number but I'm not sure if you got the right one, because you never texted me. 


Your name was Alex (I think), you did some reporting for the BBC, we were going to chat about Occupy related stuff.....so get back at me! 

I think someone may have given someone else a fake number.

Off The Back: How To Dismount Your Replacement Horse

Fixed-gear bicycles.  Remember those?  Well, despite what you may think, not only are people still riding them, but they also continue to invent creative new ways of getting off of them:



I like this dismount, particularly because it involves doing sort of a "Triple Lindy" off of the rear filth prophylactic:

Just add a stiffer fender, a kiddie pool, and some sound effects and you've got yourself one sweet dismounting "edit."

Meanwhile, as you may know, "fiets" is the Dutch word for bicycle, and if you're like me you've never, ever wondered about the origin of the word.  However, Dutch speakers have wondered about it, since apparently its etymology has been shrouded in mystery.  Finally though, the shroud has been lifted.  Yes, linguists have finally solved the mystery of the "fiets," and the reader who forwarded me the article was kind enough to translate it for me:

Two language professors from the University of Ghent have solved perhaps one of the biggest mysteries in the Dutch etymology: where did the -quite recent- word "fiets" come from?
The discovery was actually accidental. Gunnar de Boel, professor of comparative linguistics at Ghent University, offered cider  to German friends from the southern Rhineland.


It then became clear that they regarded cider as "vice wine". They call it "Viez", a substitute for wine, as it were, and in certain parts of Germany that is pronounced like"fiets".


de Boel made ​​the connection with our "fiets" and  proposed his hypothesis with Professor Luc de Grauwe.


In German, the new vehicle with pedals was called "vice Pferd" at the time, literally "replacement horse." This was later shortened to "Viez", like the abbreviation from "automobiel" to "auto". The word that is pronounced like  "fiets" must have later been blown over to Flanders and to the Netherlands.


The word "fiets" emerged in Dutch around 1870 for the first time. Since 1886, the origin of the word became stuff for intense debate among linguists. For 140 years no one could adequately demonstrate where the word came from, until today.


So it is likely that the Dutch word for bicycle originated from German and meant something like "substitute horse". This etymological explanation also clarifies the pejorative synonym "stalen ros", meaning "steel steed", a common expression in Dutch.

I'm not sure I really followed any of that, but in any case I share this with you for two (2) reasons:

1) While the subject of Dutch etymology may seem a bit dry, being able to hold forth on the origin of the Dutch word for bicycle is exactly the sort of skill that can get you "laid" in Portland.  In fact, if you arrive at a Portland bar, execute the "Triple Lindy" fixie dismount, and then segue into the whole "fiets" thing, you'll suddenly be the most eligible bachelor or bachelorette in Multnomah County.  (Having a sweet old-timey moustache helps if you're a man, and having sweet old-timey underarm hair helps if you're a woman.)

2) From now on, I will refer to my bicycle a "replacement horse."

Speaking of Dutch cycling, a reader just sent me this photo of the Rabobank replacement horse racing team engaging in some early spring training:

(Somewhere, someone with white bar tape now thinks McDonald's is "PRO.")

Clearly they intend to Super Size their results this season.

Moving on from etymology to techny-ology, on Tuesday I mentioned belt drives, and when it comes to replacement horses you can bet that pretty much anything being touted as revolutionary replacement horse technology has been around for years in various incarnations.  Consider, for example, Biopace and "Biopace II: The Sequel."  (Tagline: "It's back, only this time it's even more expensive and lobsided.)  So I found myself browsing a popular user-edited online encyclopedia, where I found myself reading about the Bridgestone Picnica, a belt-driven folding bike that was introduced in 1985:

Being unfamilar with the proportions of the Picnica, the above photo sent my sense of perspective into a tailspin.  At first I thought the woman in the bumblebee hat was a giant, and then I thought the guy in the yellow shirt was tiny, and then I finally gave up and decided to watch more Brompton folding porn instead:

(Forwarded by a reader.)

To paraphrase an eloquent music fan, "More interpretive folding bike dancing, or Ima fucking kill you!"  In fact, the only thing I enjoy more than Brompton folding bike porn is "Star Wars"-inspired custom helmentry:

As you've no doubt guessed, the above rider and was spotted in Portland, and if you're looking for the equivalent of a "Three Feet Please" jersey that will ensure any potential dating prospects keep a safe distance from you at all times then I don't think you could do much better than an R2D2 helment.  I'm not sure where he's going, but it wouldn't surprise me if he was on his way to a hardcore action figure role-playing session with Wikipedia Nonplussed Bib Short Guy:

(Bib shorts are the ideal undergarment when wearing a Stormtrooper costume.)

By the way, the caption for the Wikipedia Nonplussed Bib Short Guy photo is:

"A man wearing bib style biking shorts. Normally a jersey would be worn on top."

Normally, yes--but not always, as this photo from a reader in Australia proves:

(International Fred Hand Signal for "Slowing!!!")

It's always a good idea to wear your bib shorts over your jersey.  That way, anything you're storing in your jersey pockets remains safely inaccessible, and you can focus on the hunt for bike lane romance:

Looking good in the bike lane - m4w - 30 (East Village)

Date: 2012-02-20, 6:01PM EST

Reply to: [deleted]

So I think we got off on the wrong foot last night just before 8pm. You were standing at the corner of 10th and 2nd Ave (I think that was it, I was riding pretty fast though) in the middle of the bike lane, gazing intently at your cell phone. I was on a bike (obviously, it's the bike lane afterall). I rang my bell at you (real slick, I know) and said something to the effect of "YOU'RE STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING BIKE LANE", or "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE BIKE LANE" because I really didn't want to crash into you. Hitting girls is not what I'm about. That's when you fired back, "Whoa, chill the fuck out dude" and I knew that we had something special. In an instant whatever was captivating you so much on your cell phone while you were standing in the middle of the bike lane was no longer significant. You see, I didn't have many options at that point. To my right there was traffic and even cars making left hand turns down 2nd Ave so swerving in that direction simply wasn't happening. And I definitely didn't have an option on my left, with things like parked cars and curbs so that wasn't going to work either. You pretty much just needed to get the hell out of my way, so that's why I said those mean things to you. Maybe I did it because I already care deeply for you. Who says there's no such thing as love at first sight? So, how's about we put the past behind us and meet up for a drink or two? 

Isn't stopping an option?

Conspiracy: What's Good for the Goose is Good Propaganda

Admittedly I tend to engage in hyperbole, but what I'm about to tell you isn't hyperbole at all--it's just straight, regular, unembellished bole:

I have uncovered a massive conspiracy.

The "curator" of this conspiracy is the so-called "Sierra Club," described by a popular user-edited online encyclopedia as "one of the oldest, largest, and most influential grassroots environmental organization in the United States." Clearly however this is merely a cunning ruse, for their true purpose is obviously to ensure the continued dominance of the automobile as Canada South's primary mode of transportation, and to frighten commuters away from the act of bicycle cycling. Consider this seemingly innocuous though deeply insidious propaganda video entitled "Two Mornings," which compares car commuting with bicycle commuting in the Smugness Hive that is San Francisco:

Two Mornings from Sierra Club National on Vimeo.

On the surface of it, it's merely one of those typical videos where they juxtapose car commuting and bike commuting to show you how annoying driving is and how awesome "bi-keen" is. I mean, it's a foregone conclusion, right? But what they really do is prey upon our familiarity with the genre by ever-so-craftily making the driving look better than the "bi-keen." You hardly notice while you're watching, but if you look at each mode of transportation separately you'll see what I mean.

First, the driving. See how our fashionably dressed "duderette" enters her chic red Mini Cooper:

Notice she's able to do this while enjoying her morning coffee. She's also able to carry her belonging in a stylish leather bag, as opposed to one of those ridiculous Chrome bags with all the seatbelt buckles all over it that looks like a pair of 1980s bondage pants, or like a parachute might explode out of it at any second. Soon she's on her way, as easily as you please:

The streets are free and clear:

The most difficult thing she has to do during her commute is make a left-hand turn onto another empty street:


Though at one point she does have to wait at one (1) red light behind one (1) other driver:

And that's it! Where are the shots of the "epic" traffic jams? Where's the look of nonplussitude as she fills up at the gas station and discovers it costs like 50 bucks to fuel a car that could probably fit in a bakfiets? Where's the endless hunt for a parking space? If this is what driving in San Francisco is like then I'm buying a fleece vest and a trendy car, putting a Sierra Club bumper sticker on it, getting an Internet 2.0 gig with a job description even I don't understand, and becoming a total NorCal "duder."

By comparison, the cycling is abject misery. First of all, due to bike theft and the high cost of San Francisco real estate, she has to keep her giant bicycle in the middle of her bedroom:

How does she even get out of bed, much less visit the bathroom in the middle of the night without becoming a human spoke card?

Next, instead of carrying her coffee and bag to her car while wearing a sporty leather jacket, she has to wear a giant mustard-colored sweater and totally ruin her hair by strapping on a helmet so she doesn't die:

Evidently she didn't want to deal with the additional humiliation of the ridiculous Chrome bag, so she's not carrying anything at all.

Then, she shoves off in a bizarre manner that makes her look like a hood ornament, and the Sierra Club cleverly reminds us that, in San Francisco, you can apparently park your car right in front of your house where, unlike your bike, you won't trip over it in the night when you get up to make a pee-pee:

And things quickly go from bad to worse when some creepy guy starts hitting on her:

("I reeeally like your sweater. Is that mustard?")

The subtext is clear: stay in your car where it's safe, or ride your bike where you'll get drooled on by sexual deviants:

("I reeeally like mustard.")

Presumably she's finally able to shake this guy by giving him a fake phone number, but no sooner has she regained her solitude than some Cat 6 wheelsucker adheres herself to her:

In typical Cat 6 fashion, the wheelsucker sits on her despite the fact that the bike lane is totally clear, and given the fact that that our mustard-clad heroine hasn't even had her morning coffee yet it's a miracle she's managing even that strained smile:

Note they're also wearing the same helmet, since the wheelsucker is probably also a serial copycat.

Finally, after all that, the Sierra Club has the audacity to pull the old "reverse psychology" trick:

Yeah, right.

Evidently, the Sierra Club opted to leave out the fact that this was a "collabo" with ExxonMobil and News Corp.

Anyway, if I wasn't scared enough after watching this video, I sure was after I read this on the aforementioned user-edited online encyclopedia:

Observers of the Sierra club have charged that the club's views on population growth, and the efforts of some club members to restrain immigration, are a continuation of aspects of the Eugenics movement.

Sweet succulent Lob, what the hell kind of "club" is this anyway?!?

Ironically, while Smug Franciscans are being thoroughly brainwashed, here in New York things are finally going our way, for a judge has dismissed the lawsuit to remove the Prospect Park West bike lane in Brooklyn:

Though a reader informs me that there is a vitriolic anti-pennyfarthing movement brewing in Halifax:

Granted, this movement consists of only one man, but he's angry enough for at least a hundred, and he claims his "neighbours" are behind him:

This is for the asshat who lives on my cul de sac: take that fucking monstrosity back to what ever grave you dug it out of. Me and my neighbours (not your neighbours, we would never call you that!) have had enough of your shit. I sit down to watch TV in the evenings and what do I see wobbling down the road from my big fucking bay window? Your fucking penny farthing! Nothing irks me quite like the sight of unproportionate wheels do.

It's tempting to dismiss this as the ranting of a lunatic, but fear of vehicles with disproportionate wheels is a very serious condition. It's called "aliusrotasphobia," and the mere sight of a Big Wheel is enough to send sufferers into paroxysms of panic. Then again, I'd probably be leery of an ersatz Victorian who shows off his p-far to children too:

You smile and drive the length of the road, turn around, and come back again. Over and over and over. You stop and show it off to the kids on my street. Not my fucking kid, you can of shit. I wont let him out of the house when you are around.

"I remember when the pennyfarthing man used to come around," his child will write in his memoirs many years later. "Father would lock me in the basement, where I'd cower as I listened to him smashing things and shouting about the evils of asymmetry. He couldn't even use our hose caddy since the wheels were a different size than the spool. Harry John Lawson, inventor of the safety bicycle, was like a god in our house. Father said he saved us from the sin of 'unproportionateness.' There were pictures of Lawson everywhere, even in the bathroom. He still haunts my dreams"

Of course, a more euphemistic way to describe the p-far hater would be to call him "tempestuous," which is how one Craigslist seller describes NAHBS founder Don "Thou Shalt Have No Other Bike Shows Before Me" Walker:


One-of-a-kind Don Walker custom-built pursuit track frame. 56cm c-t-c effective top tube, 58.5cm seat tube c-t-c.
The founder of NAHBS (North American Handbuilt Bicycle Show), Don is a tempestuous and AMAZING builder - this frame is unbelievably well-made. Beautifully fillet-brazed Columbus EL-OS main triangle. Pursuit/sloping geometry, monostay rear bridge, MASSIVE oversized stays. Campagnolo headset and Suntour Superbe Pro track BB included. Both are in excellent shape. There are no drillings for brakes. 120mm rear spacing, 100mm front. Paint has minor scratches and scuffs, but absolutely no dents, dings, or scrapes anywhere. 27.2mm seat tube diameter.

$699

If you like your framebuilders like you like your Shakespeare plays--and your name just happens to be Eric Williams--then this could very well be the deal of the century:

Either way, I bet even Larry Olmsted's Seven Cycles questionnaire didn't allow him to select the personality of his frame's builder, which is of course a key component in determining ride quality. I only hope they begin offering this as an option soon:

97) I prefer my framebuilders to be:

--Endearing

--Lovably quirky

--Disconcertingly even-keeled

--Ornery

--Mercurial

--Tempestuous

--Steel-sniffing lunatics

A well-made bespoke bicycle is like a part of you, and this is even more true if you've actually been beaten about the head and face with portions of its tubing.

Lastly, on Friday I mentioned the Wikipedia "Cycling Shorts" entry model, and since then it seems they've been experimenting with a couple of new candidates, most recently this one:

Though I'm pleased to say our hero remains on the page--he's just been demoted to "bib shorts" representative, as opposed to the representative of all forms of cycling shorts:

("I'm just the bib shorts guy now.")

He doesn't look too pleased about this, but then again he didn't look too pleased to begin with either.