Sweeping Generalizations: What Happens When You Assume

Further to last Friday's post, more than one person objected to my singling out the Leader bike with the doctored fork. (Okay, two people. One commented on the post, and one emailed me.) I maintain though that it is important to point out mistakes, because it's fun and informative, and it can also help people. Here's another mistake by a Leader owner, which a reader recently spotted in downtown Los Angeles:

While I strongly believe that no road-going bicycle should ever sport a quick-release seat clamp, that's mostly a stylistic quibble, and I'm sure some people have valid reasons for using them. However, there's definitely no reason to have a quick-release anything on a bike that's going to spend any time being locked up outside (unless the quick-release is there so you can remove the component and take it inside with you), and there's even less reason to lock your bike by that quick-release component and nothing else.

I have to admit that I am completely baffled as to why, of all the tubes visible in this photograph, the owner chose to pass his lock around that one. He might as well have locked it to a FedEx truck, or to a sprig of bougainvillea, or to a fragrance wafting out of a bakery. Perhaps he didn't spend enough time doing mazes with crayons on diner mats as a child and can't differentiate between closed- and open-ended.

Granted, passing a lock through a bike can sometimes be complicated, and even I have found myself staring at the ganglion of chain and cable before leaving a bike, lest I realize I got so preoccupied with securing both wheels that I forgot to pass the chain around the pole or something. But this one's just bad. It's not even like he locked only the wheel to the pole or something. In this case, the thief will get away with 100% of the bike.

The only thing that, for me, could have made it worse would have been if he'd also locked up his helmet. I don't understand why people so often lock their helmets along with their bikes. You should never, ever leave anything you intend to wear unattended on a sidewalk and attached to a pole. Unless you like wearing things that have been urinated on by dogs, bring the skid lid inside.

After looking at this bike, and Friday's bike, and Fatty's bike, I began to wonder if maybe there was something about Leader owners that might explain kind of behavior. But then I stopped myself. It's tempting to make generalizations about people based on only a few examples, but ultimately it's wrong. My generalization of Mini owners as text-messaging vinophiles was met with outrage in the Mini-driving community. I've also gotten in trouble for declaring that Canadians are lazy, people who drive Nissans are idiots, and that people who watch the sitcom "Two and a Half Men" become inappropriately aroused when their pets nestle between their legs. So having been wrong before, I'm not going to do it again. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there riding Leader bikes who know what they're doing.

There is one generalization that is true, though, and it's that Bianchi Pista owners ask too much for their bikes. The NYC PistaDex is at 550 this morning, thanks largely to this overpriced offering:

Beautiful Bianchi Pista (Silver) with Kryptonite Lock + Extras - $700 (Inwood / Wash Hts)

Reply to: [deleted]

Date: 2008-08-17, 12:30AM EDT

Beautiful Bianchi Pista for sale. Pics attached.

Comes with:

Fixed gear and Free wheel gear (just flip the back wheel)

Handle bar grips (not in picture)

pedal toe clips

Kryptonite lock

Also have a Timbuk2 Laptop Messenger Bag for sale ($55) if you want it.

It's a great ride, the fixed gear allows you to get a real feel for the road (every little movement of your legs, it feels like an extension of your body).

It's a simple but elegantly designed and well built bike. Great for the city!

I like how the "handle bar grips" are "not in picture." Of course they're not. It's a Pista! Why would they be on the bike? I also like the poetic bit about how the "fixed gear allows you to get a real feel for the road." You'll also get a real feel for the road when your hands slip off the bare bars and you rub the asphalt with your face.

Poetic as this may be, if you want to see art in the service of Pista salesmanship, you have to go to eBay. A reader recently forwarded me this offering:

Unfortunately the listing has since been removed, but I was able to manage a few screen shots before that happend. I'm sure you'll agree that this is perhaps the most evocative and controversial Pista ad ever devised. Unlike the Cervelo porn we saw awhile back, I saw no reason to censor this, because this is not porn. Not only are the naughty bits artfully obscured, but it's also kind of sepia, and anything sepia is art. That's the rule.

Then again, it is possible to abuse the "sepia rule," which is probably why eBay pulled the listing. And I must confess these photos do sort of call to mind those somewhat disturbing Lewis Carroll photographs:

Finally, in the spirit of incorrect generalizations, another one is that Rivendell enthusiasts are above shopping on Craigslist:


Dear Universe: Plz send me a Rivendell. I love you. Amen.
Reply to: [deleted}
Date: 2008-08-16, 5:16PM EDT

Dear Dear Dear Universe,

You know I love you. I want only to celebrate you through excessively awesome bicycle riding whereby all humans and their children will see the bike which I will ride, and frolic in orgasmic gasps of joy about me. So please, please, please, in your mercy, send me a Rivendell bike. 54-56 cm frame would be best. Color can be whatever, for I have faith in you.

In return, I swear to irritate those snotty carbon-frame riders, who will have no choice but to acknowledge the superiority of those things which you in your infinite wisdom have given us, like custom fitted lugs. And I will spread your truth and light to the aluminum riders, who have been led astray. Moreover, I understand aluminum gives you Alzheimers, and that is a terrible thing to have in your crotch. Indeed, they know not what they do.

But because I have asked you in your infinite bounty, I know you will provide. Thank you in advance, Universe.

Your friend and true believer,

C. (the hot one with the legs and the hair, you remember me, right, Universe? Email me, we'll talk.)

I don't know which is more misguided: looking for a Rivendell on Craigslist, or attempting to communicate with a higher power on Craigslist. It's pretty much the last place you'll find either. The person who wrote this probably also freaks out at the local bodega because they don't have truffle oil. I'm also a bit disturbed that this person seems willing to trade sex for a Rivendell (although I suspect the bit about "the legs and the hair" is a typo and should simply read "with the leg hair," since we are talking about a Rivendell fan), and even more disturbed by the revelation that aluminum can apparently give you Alzheimers of the crotch. All I can say about that is, thank the Universe the model in the eBay ad is straddling a steel bike!

Somebody forward this to Grant Petersen.

Put Up Or Be Quiet: Would You Still Ride?

On a recent commute, I was waiting at a red light (I do occasionally stop for them) and was joined by three other commuters. As the light changed we passed somebody who, upon seeing four bikes together (my word!), asked loudly in an irritated tone: “What is there, a marathon today?”

Such moments hurt my brain so badly that it’s almost enough to make me stop riding. (Well, not really.)

But I do think that each and every one of us has our own personal breaking point at which we’d give up cycling. I’m not talking about injuries or anything like that. I’m talking about having to put up with something so inconvenient, awkward, or embarrassing that it would be enough to drive you to something else. And I think this breaking point is different for each of us.

While we all like to think we're above caring about how we look or what we ride, we're also conveniently never required to put ourselves to the test. Following are some scenarios to contemplate. Read each one, suspend your disbelief, and ask yourself, “Would I still ride?” Be honest with yourself—nobody else has to know. Some of these scenarios aren’t so bad (in fact, many may already be riding this way), and some are, objectively speaking, awful. So read on and discover your limit.

Would you still ride if:

You can only ride on pavement.

You can only ride offroad.

You can only ride in USA Cycling-sanctioned races. That’s it: no commuting, no training (indoor or outdoor), no recreational rides of any kind.

You can only ride in charity rides. (Shortest route only where distance is optional.)

You cannot change any item on your bicycle (including inner tubes, though they may be patched) for two years.

You only have three choices of jersey (all XXL): a maillot jaune, a Mapei jersey, or this jersey from Primal Wear:

You can only ride tubulars. (Yes, even on your mountain bike. 650s and Dugasts allowed.)

You can only ride a full downhill rig with 25mm slicks (regardless of terrain).

You can only ride one of those trials bikes with no seat.

You can only ride a beach cruiser with speedplays and full CSC team kit.

You can never wear a helmet.

You must always wear a helmet, but it has to be a replica of the one Greg LeMond wore in the Champs-Elysees time trial in the ’89 Tour de France, and it has to be the wrong size.

You can only ride in flip-flops on flat pedals with no foot retention system of any kind.

You can only ride a fixed-gear bicycle with no brake and a 14x50 gear.

You can only ride the above with flat pedals, pennyloafers, and no foot retention system of any kind.

You can only ride a keirin bike that has been modified to run disc brakes and a singlespeed freewheel. Otherwise the bike must be entirely NJS.

You can only ride against traffic (including criteriums, road- or off-road races, or in velodromes)

You can only ride one of Sheldon Brown’s wacky bikes

You can only ride a tandem.

You can only pilot a tandem with Sheldon Brown as your stoker.

You can only pilot a tandem with Sheldon Brown as your stoker and reading aloud from seminal works of science fiction through a megaphone.

You must ride a different bike each day. That bicycle will be the first bike that randomly comes up when you log on to velospace each morning. (Right now it happens to be, unbelievably, a dual-suspension Schwinn Homegrown)

The same as above, but instead you must ride the first complete bike that comes up on eBay when you search for “road bike” and select “ending soonest.” (Right now it happens to be a 58cm carbon Felt road bike with Dura Ace. But tomorrow’s another day.)

You can only ride a Rivendell with a 3’x5’ billboard affixed to it that bears a photo of Grant Peterson and the words, “Your handlebars should be higher than your saddle!”

You can ride any bicycle you want, provided it is equipped with a dynamo hub powering a phonograph that plays old Edith Piaf records. (This should be particularly amusing in a cyclocross race.)

And the ultimate test for those of you still standing: you must ride a recumbent.