Velo Noir: The Bike Dick

Not too long ago, I encountered a sight more inspirational than a thousand Obama campaign posters. That sight, of course, was an Access-a-Ride van getting stopped by the police. Frankly, I couldn't imagine street justice being meted out more deservingly--that is, until a reader forwarded me this:


Yes, that is indeed an Access-a-Ride van getting rear-ended by an Access-a-Ride car, and I deeply regret that I was not there to see it. The only more satisfying collision I can imagine would be between a brakeless fixed-gear rider and that idiot who was walking in the bike lane with his breakfast last week. Of course, it does stand to reason that any two Access-a-Ride vehicles that come within a block of each-other would inevitably collide. After all, there's a 50% chance that a solo Access-a-Ride vehicle is going to crash into something at any given time anyway, so logically chances double to 100% when there are two of them.

And in these difficult times, the truth is that we need all the inspiration we can get. In case you haven't noticed, it's getting ugly out there. Way back in February, I reported that bike messengers in Seattle were becoming extinct. (Which of course led to the short-lived "Save the Messengers" campaign.) In particular, I recommended starting an "adopt-a-courier" program for unemployed messengers. Well, it seems the hard times have spread to New York, because at least one would-be messenger has put himself up for adoption:



BIKE MESSENGER/DELIVERY - $9 (Lower East Side)
Reply to: see below
Date: 2008-12-05, 11:58AM EST

I am a biker who is looking for a job where I can use my bike. I have amazing bike riding skills and can navagate through NY city easily.I know this city like the back of my hand and can deliver messages, packages or food. I know how to ride safely and quickly.I come with 2 of my own bikes and cell phone. I ask for an hourly pay of 9.00 and up. If you are looking for an experienced biker email me at
a.cooper24@yahoo.com

In the spirit of the holiday season, I hope someone out there can find it in his or her heart to employ someone with amazing bike riding skills. After all, amazing bike riding skills don't exactly grow on trees (even though amazingly ugly bikes do), and $9 is very little to pay for the convenience of having someone return that overdue library book for you, or go fetch that hat you left at your friend's house, or (if you have OCD) to have someone who can go back and forth to your house all day to make sure you didn't leave the oven on. Even if you don't need his services, a gift certificate for an hour of messenger service makes for a great stocking stuffer. He even comes with "2 of my own bikes and a cell phone," just like some kind of messenger action figure.

Yes, it's good to see cyclists joining the ranks of people who seek compensation simply for doing something fun and unnecessary, just like mediocre guitar players or men who try to sell their bodies to women. (And we all know how that turns out.) With any luck, our freelance messenger will never have to do anything he doesn't want to do, or worse yet, actually go to work for a messenger service. But at least if his courier-for-hire thing doesn't work out he can always become a bike detective:

Reward$$$$$ stolen Nagasawa!!!
Reply to: sale-944824384@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-12-04, 1:07PM EST

My bike was stolen on the 11th of last month in Brooklyn. Please help me find it. I'm offering a nice cash reward for it's return. It will be worth your time to return it. Help me out.

The number of people using exotic bicycles with expensive components to ride around the streets of New York City only continues to increase. Consequently, so does theft. Yet the only phrase less likely to spur a cop into action than "My bike was just stolen!" is "I sent my laundry out and when I picked it up one of my sweatsocks was missing!" (Hint: telling the cops your frame was NJS won't impart any more urgency to the proceedings, either.) As such, I think the time is ripe for a full-time private bike detective. Part Philip Marlowe and part Ace Ventura, he will comb the back alleys, Chinese take-out restaurants, and Craigslist chop shops of New York City in order to reunite fixters with their "whips." He will also chase down villains with his "amazing bike riding skills," and like Ace Ventura he will even talk out of his ass. (Talking out of your ass is essential when dealing with fixters and missing NJS frames.)

Stolen Track Bike -- Orange Samson -- Grand Street - $1 (Lower East Side)
Reply to: see below
Date: 2008-12-03, 10:25PM EST

Taken on Grand at Essex. REWARD.
Black Brooks saddle, Black Mavics/Dura Ace hubs.

Here's another stolen bicycle in need of detection. Sadly, this one also sounds like it was a pretty expensive keirin frame, which means that some sort of "NJS Bandit" is almost assuredly on the loose. Please note that if you have any information you need to be a formidable sleuth in order to reply, since the poster has left no contact information whatsoever.

STOLEN BIKE FOUND - $1 (NYC )
Reply to: sale-947817741@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-12-06, 5:30PM EST

so these shady chinese guys offered me to see "their" bike in the basement and.. uh
really not theirs they dont know shit about bikes..

so here its what it looks like..

if you think its yours it has a sticker and you must describe it

its a red pinnarello with campy record everything brakes derralieur , seatpost, brakes, shifters, hubs balblablabla

it has nitto blue anodized handlebar with brown brooks cork wrap,

does it sound familiar? Holla at me

But there is hope, and this post goes to show that sometimes bikes are found. The person who found this bike would clearly make an excellent bike detective too, not only because he's the kind of person who somehow finds himself in situations where shady people are inviting him into basements, but also because he then actually goes into those basements despite the obvious risks. (I on the other hand would make a terrible bike detective, since I won't even go into the basements of people I know and trust.) He shouldn't have too much trouble finding the owner either. Very few of those Balblablabla hubs were ever made. They're very ornate and highly recognizable too, thanks to their trademark fish-mouth grease ports, scaly hub shells, and fin-shaped skewers.

Vintage Italian Track Frame
Reply to: [deleted]
Date: 2008-12-08, 8:09AM EST

I bought the frame from Continuum Cylces in Manhattan. It was beat up but you could tell it was, at one point, a beautiful frame. The owner (who told me that the frame was his) suggested that it was a Giordana, and the markings seen on the second picture seem to suggest that it's at least an Italian vintage. I bought the frame and brought it to Chelsea Bikes where the top tube (which was cracked) was replaced and the entire frame was given a clear coat. I returned the frame to Continuum where it was built out with all new parts, including fork.

I love this bike. Truly an unique gem. A fast, elegant ride. All steel. It's just too big for me. I knew it when I bought it, I just hoped I'd get used it.

Please contact me for more pictures or questions. The bike is going for $2000, or best offer, though I've had offers near that amount.

It's stamped a size 56". The top tube measures 58".

As much as I hate to see people's bikes get stolen, I also can't help getting irritated when those bikes are disproportionately expensive. Sure, not everybody has a beater bike, but if you do only have one bike and you lock it up in a city like New York you might want to think about buying a second bike for $250 before you upgrade to that $300 hubset. That's one of the many reasons why, if you're in the market for an urban runabout, I'd avoid the $2,000 rehabilitated mystery bike above.

I must admit, though, that I found the ad compelling. First of all, I was intrigued by the bike's mysterious provenance: notice that the previous owner "suggested it was a Giordana." I'm not sure Giordanas are highly-coveted bicycles anyway, but nonetheless suggesting something without saying it outright is a highly effective sales tactic. I've even used it myself: "I'm not saying this bike isn't a Colnago. All I'm saying is that if you peel off those Pacific decals you never know what you'll find under there." Hey, it may be misleading, but it's not a lie. Secondly, I'm not sure why the owner thought he'd get used to a frame that's too big for him. Maybe the person who sold it to him also said, "I'm not saying this bike will fit you like a glove, but I will say if you buy it you very well might get used to it." And that's like falling for the old, "Don't worry, they'll stretch" line when you're buying shoes. Finally, it seems that the current owner is picking up some of the sneaky tactics of the person who sold him the bike, since he's selling it "for $2000, or best offer, though I've had offers near that amount." If he's had already had offers close to $2,000 and he's willing to sell it for $2,000 or best offer, then why does he still have the thing?

Perhaps the seller can engage the private bike detective to find out who made his bike. And here's yet another bike-related crime on the verge of being solved, which was posted in the "Missed Connections:"

To the kid who hit a car w/bike, got beaten up, iPhone smashed, etc - 27 (Bushwick)
Reply to: [deleted]
Date: 2008-12-06, 2:13PM EST

There was a post written a few weeks ago by the guy you got smashed up by- he's a real dick and he ended his post by suggesting you meet him at an Agnostic Front show? Yeah, anyhow I have been corresponding with him in an effort to help and now have an email and myspace address for you, it should be easy to pull an IP address from that should you want to press charges. You could at least maybe get your ipod back since he apparently stole that after he stomped on you and stomped your iphone.
Just contact me on here.

Yes, some time ago, none other than fixed-gear freestyle impresario Prolly came upon this highly dramatic and incendiary Craigslist Missed Connection, which is either very comical or somewhat disturbing, depending on your disposition. At the time, I dismissed it as fantasy, thinking it read too much like the hipser-hater's equivalent of a Penthouse Forum letter. However, it would appear that at least one concerned citizen with hipster sympathies not only believes the story is true but has taken it upon himself to bring the driver to justice. I'm not sure what recourse the victim would actually have if they did find the guy, but if there's a rematch I really, really hope I'm invited to watch. I also hope there's a Zune involved this time.

And once the private bike detective is done with that, he can move on to trailing adulterous husbands. After reading about the iPhone crusher, I noticed this:

Linda At Bike Junkie Bike Shop - m4w - 54 (Bethpage)
Reply to: [deleted]
Date: 2008-12-01, 11:45AM EST

I am a fairly regular customer and I was in the store most recently twice a couple of weeks ago. You look as good and hot as ever. I would love to get together. Because I am married I am uncomfortable approaching you directly.

I'm sure Linda at Bike Junkie is pleased to know that his reticence isn't due to insecurity or lack of attraction--it's simply because he's trying to cheat on his wife. Next time this guy tells his wife he's "going out to buy tubes" at 12:45am she can have the bike dick follow him and build herself a solid divorce case.

Lastly, speaking of following people, I always like to follow up on people I've mentioned here on the site. You may remember Shane Stock, owner of Oso Bike. Well, not only did he reinvent his corporate image by re-editing his video, but he also scored a review on Bikecommuters.com:


I'm not one to fuss over chainline, but I was dismayed to learn that the chainline of the Oso bike is something like a centimeter out-of-plane. Still, I suppose it makes a better sacrificial lamb than a Nagasawa or a Samson. (I understand NJS certification for the Oso is pending.)

I also feel compelled to apprise you of the latest from Opinionated Cyclist (if only to save you the trouble of watching his videos) since it may interest some of you to know he seems to have reinvented himself as a karaoke air musician. Here he is "playing" along to Ratt's "Round and Round:"

And here he is singing with his sweater on inside out and backwards:

Hard-hitting stuff.

But not quite as hard-hitting as this:

Soundtrack and wardrobe aside, I can't imagine anything more detached from the streets. Even the bike's in a living room on rollers instead of outside. He does have "amazing bike riding skills" though. I'd give him $9 to pick up my moisture-wicking chicken suit from the dry cleaners or something.

Extra-Ordinary: From Publicity to P-Fars

A number of people have pointed out that I received a favorable mention on Lance Armstrong's Twitter. (Or, as he's referred to by non-cycling Americans, "The guy from all the bike riding.")

While I appreciated the nod, I'm also the sort of person who can extract negativity from anything. (Hand me a suitcase full of money and I'll complain about how heavy it is. "You expect me to schlep this all the way to the bank?!?") If you're unfamiliar with Twitter, it only allows for entries of 140 letters or less, so it strikes me as odd that, with words at such a premium, Armstrong should still feel the need to squander them with use of the word "Maybe." Also, after he mentioned me, I checked back and was dismayed to find this:

If Armstrong can't even tell a serious site from a comedic one, does it really mean anything that he thinks mine is funny? Talk about damning with faint praise! Sure, Rapha did kill with that "tweed softshell" bit, but still.

Even so, this didn't prevent me from enjoying his Twitter feed. It's rare that you get so much insight into the life of a public figure, and he should be applauded for his candor. I mean, he even tells you when the drug testers come--which is pretty often. Actually, at this point Armstrong just urinates involuntarily whenever the doorbell rings. (It's a great way to embarrass him at parties.) I was also surprised at how similar his life is to mine, as you can see from this entry:


"Getting a massage from Ryszard (my longtime Polish soigneur) listening to Sufjan Stevens."

That is so wild! I also have a longtime Polish soigneur, and I totally crank up the Sufjan when he massages me. (My soigneur's name is Thadeusz, though. He has the hands of an angel--or at least the hands of an angel who has Hormel hams for hands.) Get out of my head, Armstrong. Get out of my head!

Moving on, yesterday's post included a photo of Madonna on a road bike like 20 years ago, and since then speculation as to the identity of her training partner has run rampant. (And by "run rampant" I of course mean that one or two people wondered who it is.) Well, one reader in Canada (or "Canadia" if you prefer) postulates that it may be none other than "Canadian Track Great Curt Harnett," based on this revealing photo:

Well, the hair is certainly a match, and the reader points out that both riders are sporting Canadian national team colors on their shorts, but the cyclist with Madonna has the spindly legs of a pure climber and not the bulky legs of a trackie. I guess we may never know. Then again, that photo is pretty old, so if by some chance they spawned it may be worth watching the velodromes of the Great White North for any up-and-coming track racers with a penchant for both mullets and g-strings.

But as much as I'd like to avoid reality by obsessing over the sexual dalliances of celebrities, the fact is there are much more serious matters in the world of cycling that need to be addressed, and I for one cannot in good conscience sit idly by. I received a shocking email recently in which a reader told a tragic tale of arriving at a bike rack designed to accommodate multiple bikes, only to find that a greedy rider had taken up the whole thing with one single wretched Huffy:

I've taking the liberty of annotating the reader's photo, in which irony abounds. We've often seen expensive bikes locked up poorly, yet here is a bicycle that arguably nobody in his or her right mind would covet that has been secured with two U-locks. The rider has even made sure to lock up both wheels, much to the chagrin of anybody looking for a steel-rimmed Schraeder valve wheelset with a gigantic pie plate. I'm guessing the only reason the highly-desireable comfort saddle isn't locked up too is that the seatpost became permanently stuck in the frame way back when Madonna used to ride (with) Curt Harnett.

So I'd just like to take this opportunity to say that we, as a community of cyclists, should not tolerate the craven act of bike rack-hogging. (Or bike rock-hagging, which is what Curt Harnett was doing with Madonna.) Nor should we tolerate the stupid act of failing to lock your bike altogether:

And, perhaps most importantly, we need to take a strong stand against leaving frame size stickers on seat tubes. This is the bicycle equivalent of letting the tag stick up out of the collar of your t-shirt. Nobody cares what size your BILF t-shirt is, and nobody cares what size bike you ride. This particular example is especially disconcerting, because the rider has actually gone throught the trouble of adding additional stickers, yet still couldn't even be bothered to remove the size sticker. And that's like standing there with your fly open and straightening your tie.

But there is some justice in the world, as evidenced by the apprehension of Dustin Dunlavy, the idiot who's all touchy about lights. One intrepid reader even went so far as to unearth Dunlavy's results from a few dorkathlons:


Rumor has it that Dunlavy has already been approached by Michael Ball, who has apparently offered him a spot on Rock Racing's 2009 roster. Ball wouldn't confirm or deny this, though he did acknowledge that "Dunlavy has the agressive attitude and the extensive palmolives we look for in a rider." I would have pressed him further, but the egg timer he uses to limit the duration of his interviews popped and that was that.

Finally, the p-far trend has officially moved into its "being sold at exorbitant prices on Craigslist" phase, as you can see from this listing:

1888 Columbia High Wheel Penny Farthing Bicycle - Original Condition - $8000 (carlsbad)

Reply to: [deleted]

Date: 2008-12-04, 1:50PM PST

1888 Columbia Light Roadster Highwheel high wheel penny farthing bicycle. Original paint and nickel plating. 52" front wheel diameter. Museum quality but is also ready to ride. 760-473-[deleted] carlsbad, california

I'll be the first to admit that this p-far is mad old-timey, yo, but I still think the $8,000 price tag is excessive--especially since it probably retailed for nineteen cents back in 1888. Still, it's a fine ride, and it even appears to have an integrated headset. (At least I don't see any headset cups.) Personally, the first thing I'd do is remove the brake, which is that thing on the front that looks like a shoehorn. I wouldn't want some gentleman to question my mettle, lest I be forced to challenge him to a duel. (In which case I'd slap him with my Knog love/hate glove.)

If your tastes run more toward the modern, you doubtless covet this new-school ride, spotted by a reader in Des Moines:



I'm especially "feeling" the lantern on the front. If Dustin Dunlavy had had a light like that, the whole unfortunate incident would have been averted. Also, if Knog Frogs are hipster cysts, then this bike has a serious case of "dandy rheumatism."

But as trendy as the old-fashioned rides are, it's important to keep looking towards the future. And no company is more forward-looking than BMC. One reader even forwarded me this photo of a BMC p-far prototype:

Now that's a chick magnet.

Ride safe this weekend,

--BSNYC/RTMS

Lookin' Good: Holiday Cycling Fashions

(CBGB: from storied rock club to sportswear line)

Further to yesterday's post in which I mentioned the attack in Wisconsin, I did not realize when I went to press that the victim was actually the owner of a high-end bike shop:

This puts a whole new spin on the incident, and while I don't believe in telling strangers what to do, in this case O'Brien's advice to "Get a light" was probably warranted. First of all, as a respected figure in cycling who was even quoted in the New York Times just two weeks ago, I'd argue that O'Brien is entitled to give other riders pointers on the fly. After all, people pay him hundreds of dollars for bike fits, so the Fred on the Trek should have been grateful for the free advice. That's like bumping into a dentist on the subway who takes a quick look at your molar and saves you the time and money of making an appointment. Secondly, in these trying economic times, you really can't blame a shop owner for trying to drum up business. O'Brien's utterance of "Get a light" may not have been an admonition at all. Rather, he might be having a big sale at his shop, and he simply identified the one item the riders didn't have and as such might be most interested in buying. Had Fred and Wilma simply listened instead of flying into a rage, they might have heard the rest of the sentence: "Get a light--50% off this week only at Chronometro!"

(UPDATE: Assailant has been apprehended!)

Speaking of big, big savings, it's that time of year, and as such various periodicals are publishing their holiday gift guides. A reader informs me that USA Today, the Ryan Seacrest of newspapers, has even produced one for bike commuters. In addition to such items as a $70 Ralpha t-shirt and a $500 Castelli jacket, they also suggest a Rock Racing t-shirt:

A Rock Racing T-Shirt ($15 and up, shop.rockracing.com) shows the world that you back the iconoclastic bike racing team owned by Rock & Republic fashion mogul Michael Ball. 

Now that's a gift. In fact, I was so excited by it that you'll notice I tagged it with the BSNYC/RTMS Pleasantly Surprised Holiday Gift Lady, a distinction reserved for only the best presents:

And who wouldn't want to back fashion mogul Michael Ball and his iconoclastic bike racing team? After all, the King of Pants is as generous as he is iconoclastic--so much so that he's recently been granting "10-minute Q&A sessions with select publications," such as Bicycling and Pez. Actually, Pez managed to get 15 minutes, and the drama and excitement that surround a brush with Ball is palpable in the intro to the interview:

The BlackBerry alarm rings at 05.30 and the red light is flashing; I've got mail - it's from Rock Racing's Sean Weide. "I can get you 15 minutes with Michael Ball - as one of only five media representatives who will be interviewing him tomorrow. He can talk about Rudy, the 2009 roster, Tyler, etc." Wow! Let's see what Mr. Ball had to say.

I must admit that Ball's considerable savvy is clearly in evidence here. It's very hard to get noticed in the world of fashion, where Ball is overshadowed by vastly more successful and douchey characters like Marc Jacobs. So wisely, Ball bought his way into the much smaller and quieter world of domestic pro cycling, where people actually think he's a "mogul," where having a few Cadillacs seems impossibly lavish, and where he can be stingy with his time when dealing with the very media on whom his team's livelihood depends. (I'd like to see Ball try his "I can get you 15 minutes" tactic with Vogue or even Women's Wear Daily. "15 minutes with who?")

Which is not to say Ball doesn't deserve respect for sponsoring a cycling team, or for winning the Stars and Stripes jersey, or for employing some young riders. It would just be nice if it didn't all come with so much ego, hair product, and general smarm. But hey, if Ball needs to grease the wheels of cycling with his own unctuousness to make things happen, then so be it. (Plus, I already had my face time with Ball, when I got his autograph.)

At any rate, let's say you're looking to buy someone a t-shirt for the holidays but the person you're shopping for doesn't back the iconoclastic bike racing team owned by Rock & Republic fashion mogul Michael Ball. Well, in that case, you can always get them a BILF t-shirt on eBay, which I was alerted to by a reader:


"Bicycle I'd Like to F**K American Apparel T-Shirt. Colors: Black, Red, Blue, Olive Sizes: MENS: small, medium, and large WOMENS: small, medium let us know what size(s) you want via email. thanks. "

There's certainly no question this t-shirt warrants a carefully-placed BSNYC/RTMS Pleasantly Surprised Holiday Gift Lady:

Personally, I think it's strange to want to have sex with a bicycle. If it's simply a question of wanting to have sex with things that are thin and cold, you can always go trolling for models in the nightclubs of LA with Michael Ball instead. But I suppose I'm in the minority when it comes to my aversion to velophilia, because the demand for BILF t-shirts is so high that another company is making them as well:

You'd have to be a real pervert to wear this one, though, since it means you're sexually attracted to left-hand chainring bikes on which the chain inexplicably passes through the rear triangle and drives a right-hand cog. Also, the bike either has front and rear pie plates or extremely high-flange hubs. The only "sensible" thing here is the bar height, which is level with the saddle and which Grant Petersen would doubtless find highly titillating.

By the way, the same company will also sell you plenty of other extremely witty and irreverent shirts, such as: the "10 Reasons Why My Bike Is Better Than My Girl" shirt; the "Team MILF/Director Sportif" shirt (which I may order for Michael Ball); and of course the hysterically funny "I'm With Wheelsucker" shirt:

See that? It has a picture of two cyclists on it, with an arrow pointing to the wheelsucker. The people at Velotees don't miss a beat.

But there's more to cycling gifts than t-shirts and Rapha stuff--even if it's 30 days of Rapha, which would cost you approximately $96,000 and is kind of like going on a Dom Perignon bender. This Ralpha jacket alone goes for $750:

That's a lot to pay for a garment which is just a pretentious version of the Michael Jackson "Beat It" jacket:

You don't have to be a fashion mogul to see that they copied it right down to the shoulder panels.

Yes, Rapha may be the first name in ultra-luxury cycling apparel, but Cadence is right on their heels. Cadence's winter collection is nothing short of remarkable, in that it takes garments that are impractical for cycling and adds little flourishes which are supposed to make them functional but instead just make them complicated. Take this scarf:

I don't understand the scarf as a cycling garment, mainly because they flap around in the wind. There are also other ways to keep your neck and chest warm on the bike that don't make your head feel like an egg in a loose nest of billowy fabric. I suppose Cadence are attempting to ameliorate the flap factor by putting a little slot in it so you can cinch it, but in doing so they seem to have also limited the ways in which you can wear the scarf and maximize its effectiveness. In any case, ineffectual scarfs are an essential component of the "hipster" wardrobe, so I suppose this sort of thing is inevitable.

How do you make an item that's not particularly good at keeping you warm a little bit warmer? You add a superfluous dickey type thing. That way your American Spirit-ravaged larynx will stay slightly warmer than your chest. Brilliant, and perfect for when the mercury dips below 65 degrees. (Brrr!)  I wonder if it's compatible with the scarf? I don't see any slots.

My favorite garment by far though is the arm warmer with thumby slot. (This winter it's all about the slot.) I like it so much I gave it a BSNYC/RTMS Pleasantly Surprised Holiday Gift Lady. The advantage of this design is that it keeps the top of your hand warm while leaving your fingers exposed to the elements and making it inconvenient to wear gloves--perfect for maintaining knuckle tattoo visibility on slightly chilly days. The only thing that would make this better would be if Cadence also sold little individual wool finger cots so you could warm your digits on those rare occasions when knuckle tattoo visibility isn't essential.

Actually, like Rapha, Cadence also seem to be mining 80s pop culture, because I could imagine Madonna wearing some of this stuff during the "Like A Virgin" era. (I think the arm warmer would look great with lots of those black rubber bracelets.) And as you can see from this photo, forwarded to me by a reader, she is a serious roadie:


Expect to see visors (hopefully with slots) in Cadence's Spring collection.

Bite Your Tongue: Roadie Rage, and How to Avoid It

Other cyclists can be annoying. Take the cyclist I shared the bridge to Manhattan with this morning. As I ascended, I was overtaken by a rider on a color-coordinated track bike which was as free from dirt as it was from brakes. He passed me handily and I thought nothing of it, thinking that was the last I'd see of him.

But then came the descent, and the drawbridge-being-raised sound of reverse torque on a fixed-gear drivetrain. There's a sharp right hand turn at the bottom of the bridge on the Manhattan side. If you've got brakes it's no big deal and you don't even have to think about slowing until you're right on top of it, but if you're brakeless you have to begin the process of slowing as soon as you begin your descent lest you come into it too hot and wind up splattered on the side of a Fung Wah bus. Needless to say, I soon found myself stuck behind this guy. And if you commute in New York City or any place brakelessness is rampant, you know what came next: the skip-stops. Pedalpedalpedal, skidskidskid. Pedalpedalpedal, skidskidskid. As he gingerly picked his way down like a mule descending a rocky trail, I passed the minutes by feathering my brakes and marveling over their efficacy; first the front, then the rear, then both together. Then I used my levers to tap out "You're an idiot" in Morse code, but I don't think he noticed.

The reason I was so upset is that New York City's pretty flat, and when it comes to commuting I'm pretty lazy. The bridge descent is one of the few places where I can actually go fast without exerting myself. To be robbed of that opportunity because of someone's fashion choice is extremely irritating--it's like paying to go see a movie and then sitting behind someone who insists on wearing a giant tri-cornered hat. (I always take mine off unless I'm sitting in the very last row.)

But while I may have been upset, I didn't go so far as to actually say something to him. First of all, the hairy-chested gigolo that is annoyance swings both ways, and I very well may have been just as annoying to him. As he passed me on the ascent, I'm sure he was disgusted by my lazy pace, and my non-messenger bag, and my superfluous brakes, and my ostentatious taped bars with their giant levers and multiple bends. "How many hand positions does this idiot need?", he probably asked himself. "He's got more places to put his mitts than a serial groper on a Tokyo subway." And on the way down, he probably cursed us crazy braked riders and our reckless high-speed descents.

The second reason I didn't say anything was that it might have been dangerous. Yesterday a number of people emailed me the following horrific article from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel:

[excerpt]

The man told police he was riding on South Shore Drive when he heard someone from behind tell him that he would be passing on the left. He moved over and a man and a woman rode past.

As they did, however, he said, "Get a light." The other man turned and asked what he said.

The victim repeated, "Get a light."

The couple yelled loudly at the man, telling him to mind his own business, according to police. The victim said the other man attempted to run him off the road before the couple followed him to his home driveway.

That's where a conversation about lights continued and the woman told the victim that he seemed to have plenty of lights and asked for one. He gave her a light and told police he did not feel threatened.

The other man, however, appeared to still be upset about the original comment and allegedly clamped his hands around the victim's head. The other man then twisted the victim to the ground and kneed him in the ribs.

...

The first suspect was described as a white male, about 6 feet tall, wearing a dark-colored jacket and riding a Trek time trial bike .

The second suspect was a white female, about 5-feet-4-inches who rode an Orbea road bike with orange on the front.

This report of unwarranted violence shook me to my core, and I can only hope these rampaging roadies are brought to justice. I must say though that I can't imagine a dorkier pair of assailants--even in Wisconsin. To be attacked by some Fred on a Trek TT bike while his Orbea-straddling Wilma looks on is an indignity nobody should ever have to experience. I wish the article gave more of a description, because I'd very much like to know what they were wearing. Given the savage nature of the attack and the goofy bikes I'm pretty sure Primal Wear was involved. The man was probably sporting this inexcusably hideous Metallica "...And Justice For All" jersey (you don't "rock" or "run" Primal Wear; you "sport" it, like Dockers or Rockports):

While his lady partner, who's clearly in denial over the disaster her life has become, had most likely attired herself in the Queen of DeNile chemise:I'd also be willing to bet good money (and by "good money" I mean Euros) that at least one of them was wearing one of those inexcusable roadie babuskas:

The roadie babuska is the cycling equivalent of sporting a Members Only jacket with no shirt underneath, and you should never, ever wear one, no matter how much pate-wicking you may think you need. Then again, you also probably shouldn't tell people you don't know to "get a light," or to "wear a helmet," or to "get a brake." While all of these things are good advice, and while it's perfectly fine to endorse them, it's almost always best to refrain from doing so directly to other riders in situ. This is not to excuse Fred and Wilma's wanton behavior by any means, but it is really annoying. Even though I believe with every molecule in my body that you should never wear a roadie babushka, I wouldn't approach a stranger and tell him he should take that sweaty disgusting dishrag off his head. And even though I wanted to tell the guy on the bridge to "get a brake," I knew it would have been foolish to do so. Being annoyed by brakeless riders is curmudgeonly; telling off brakeless riders on the street is just pain douchey.

Speaking of roadies and douches, I noticed during my recess that Franck Vandenbroucke is on yet another team:

Franck Vandenbroucke is the Mavic Ksyrium freehub of professional cyclists in that both are constantly squealing and failing, yet people continue to invest money in them for some reason. You'd think after the famous "those drugs were for my dog" incident (which was, admittedly, sublime in its absurdity) cycling would have closed the door on Vandenbroucke once and for all, and that people would realize by now that he's long gone from enfant terrible to plain infant. But you'd be wrong. You'd also think people would have realized he looks uncannily like Ruprecht from "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," but to my knowledge this has yet to be acknowledged by the cycling press:

Indeed, failed promise is addicting. Despite being a failure whose Wikipedia page reads like the treatment for a John C. Reilly movie, cycling fans wax nostalgic about the fact he won Leige-Bastogne-Leige like ten years ago or something, and that he cocked his handlebars at a jaunty angle. Why? Because he's a "natural talent." ( "Everybody did it, and so did I," he said about doping. "It is the truth and it does not diminish the value of my victories.") I suppose this makes sense though. We all know the real villains in professional road cycling are the ones with the audacity to to win a bunch of races, stay out of trouble, and be successful. And that's not what bike racing is about.

Then again, I suppose there's nothing wrong with recycling. The professional road racing world is still trying to recycle Vandenbroucke, and the fixed-gear world is still trying to recycle front wheels. We've already seen them breathe new life into the Spinergy Rev-X and the Aerospoke, and now they're moving on to the wheelchair wheel:

If you're a competitive wheelchair athlete who's upgraded to a Zipp or something, you'll be happy to know there's a burgeoning market for your old take-offs.

Owning Your Bike: All You Haters Hold the Mayo

(Manhattan storefront)

People don't like me. I'm not sure why this is, but I know it's true. I can see it in their eyes. Take this very morning, for instance. I was riding through downtown Manhattan, on a relatively quiet street, in a relatively empty bike lane, and to the best of my knowledge I was in compliance with every single local traffic law. (As far as I know there's no law against cycling in stockings and heels, even in December.) As I rode, I noticed that there was a pedestrian walking towards me carrying a bag full of take-out, right in the middle of the bike lane.

Sometimes in New York City, when the sidewalks are choked with humanity, a few errant souls will stray into the bike lane. It's almost unavoidable. In this case though there was plenty of room on the sidewalk--in fact it could just as easily have been a sidewalk on Main Street in Anytown, USA. (The sidewalks on Main Street in Anytown, USA are pretty empty now because of the economy.) Finally, he looked up at me, and I shrugged and pointed to the sidewalk.

"Shut up," he said to me disgustedly.

Frankly, I was shocked, and I don't shock easily. (Except when I drag my high heels along my shag carpet and then touch the doornob.) Firstly, I hadn't uttered a word, so I don't know why the "shut up" was even warranted. Secondly, try as I might, I could think of no good reason for why he would choose to walk in the street instead of on the sidewalk (which as I said was free from crowds) where his chances of being run down by a cyclist or motorist were significantly less.

It just so happens that this was one of those bright green bike lanes, so I thought that perhaps he just has a compulsion to walk on green surfaces. Maybe he's got a house full of green carpeting, and this makes him feel at home. Or maybe he pines for Anytown, USA and mistook the bike lane for grass. Eventually, though, I ruled these out, and decided it was because he, like everybody else, simply hates me on sight.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "You couldn't possibly be that objectionable. He just didn't like you because you were on a bike." Well, I don't buy that. Plenty of other people who ride bikes are popular. Moreover, people on bikes don't like me either. A reader recently confirmed this to me when he forwarded me a link to the "Cyclist Project," which is the work of a photographer called Marisabaz, and which you can peruse on her Flickr page. Here are some examples from it:

Wow, I'd been wondering why fixed-gear riders have so many tattoos! Now I know. I can relate, because I was once doored by the owner of a bagel shop. I didn't get any money out of the deal, but he did promise to keep me in day-old bialys for the rest of my life. Sure, I may never be regular again, but at least I'll never go hungry.

Yes, the guy with the scary eyes totally wasn't wearing contacts at all, was he? That's because he was a drug addict, and he was selling you a stolen bike in order to purchase more drugs. That would explain the scary eyes and $20 price tag. Welcome to New York City! I'm guessing you haven't been here long, because if you had: a) you would have realized that; and b) you would have held fast at $5. In a way though, it's sort of charming that one person's drug-addicted thief is another's Bike Fairy flitting about Williamsburg and selling cheap bikes. Did he look like the dad from "Alf?" I heard he's been having hard times, and it's entirely possible he's moved into freelance bike retail. (By the way, don't blame "Alf" dad for the "curse." There's no such thing as a curse, but there is such a thing as a crappy bike.)

Naivetee notwithstanding, I like the "Cycling Project." In fact, I like it so much I went ahead and made my own entry based on this not-safe-for-work link, forwarded to me by a reader:

"I ride a bike because I have an ample bosom and people pay me to straddle them in my underpants! XOXO, Sophie!"

Good for you, Sophie! No matter what you're straddling, keep the rubber side down.

So if you're wondering how the big bike love-in that is the "Cycling Project" managed to remind me that people don't like me, here's your answer:

As you may or may not know, way back in the middle of the summer I noticed this bike at the Harlem criterium and made an offhand remark. This upset the owner, so I attempted to explain myself. That, I had assumed, was that--until I saw that the owner is apparently still angry at me.

I mention this not to goad the owner, but only because I'm dismayed he's still angry and I want to assure him and the rest of cycledom that I have no designs on taking away anyone's "real bike joy." And perhaps worst of all, the anger he still feels towards me has contaminated what is otherwise a lovely project, so hopefully by reiterating my lack of malicious intent I can help air out any residual bitterness that still lays hidden in the folds of time. (As well as avoid any more clumsy metaphors.)

Of course, I shouldn't be surprised that he's still angry, since I did commit the unforgivable sin of Consumerist Political Incorrectness. In our culture, few acts are more sacred than that of the purchase. When you buy something, you're not just exchanging money for an item. You're actually performing a holy communion in which you become one with your possession and subsequently identify yourself with it, and as such your purchase speaks more loudly about you than your surname or your religion. It's no wonder then that people become upset when someone else implies they might not like or be impressed by something they've bought. When you're emotionally invested in your possessions an affront to them is also an affront to you. Thou shalt not disapprove of your neighbor's purchases.

For this reason, I endeavored to explore the Cult of BMC to learn what makes them special. To that end, I watched this video on their website. I must confess, I didn't learn much. The narrator just kept reminding me over and over again that the company is Swiss, which naturally means their bikes are built with precision. I'm not sure how much that means in 2008, since most of these bikes are now made in Taiwan anyway, and the only real difference between "Swiss precision" and "Italian soul" these days is that the guy who boxes up your bike in Switzerland shows up to work at 9:00, whereas the Italian guy shows up at 9:20-ish. Also, BMC design their bikes on computers (remember, precision), and they also command you to be unique:

Compulsory uniqueness aside, it's too bad computers can't feel pain, because if they could maybe they'd have told BMC's Swiss precision engineers that the top tube of their Cross Machine (over $3,000 for frame and fork) digs into your shoulder when you carry it. (Carrying your bike is an essential part of cyclocross.) In fact, the latest issue of Cyclocross magazine says, "it creates a sharp underside for shouldering, quite opposite of the common practice of flattening the tube for comfort on run-ups," and that the "pointy shape was uncomfortable enough to make me consider going back to my early days of 'cross and using a woman's shoulder pad under my jersey." But while the computer couldn't feel the pain, it could tell the engineers that those t-section carbon nanotubes were ever so slightly stiffer than simple round tubes. Also, the computer told them it would cost them a whole lot more money to change the shape of the top tube on the 'cross frame than it would to simply use the same ones they use for the road bikes. And that's precision you can feel--digging painfully into your collarbone.

But even though I don't particularly care for BMC's bikes, the owner of the one above shouldn't really care. First of all, he's got a track frame, not a 'cross frame. Secondly, anybody can buy a bike, but not everybody can own a bike. And when you own your bike, you really don't care what anybody thinks of it. So own that BMC, and I hope you rock and/or run it for years to come. (I think you "rock" a track bike when it's got risers, but you "run" it when it's got drops.)

Moving on, the proprietor of Zlogblog has sent me the following photos, in which the heretofore mutually-exclusive worlds of unorthodox handlebars and u-locks have collided with enough force to forever change the landscape of fixed-gear cycling as we know it:



That's right, you no longer have to carry your u-lock in your oversized messenger bag, rear pant pocket, or holster. With this revolutionary technique, the lock is now an integral part of your ride! Not only does it afford you additional hand positions, but you don't even have to remove it to lock the bicycle. (Though of course your lock will now only be as effective as your allen bolts.)

Then again, everybody knows that cutting-edge urban cyclists are now ditching locks altogether. Great Commuter Race champion Jamie Favaro has forwarded me the following photo, which proves that disease is the new theft-deterrent:

Unfortunately, though, this rider made a poor choice of diseases, since everybody also knows gratuitous insensitive AIDS references went out in like 1990 when that idiot from Skid Row rocked that t-shirt. If you're going to try this, at least use a different disease. My personal choice is botulism, since my own Ironic Orange Julius Bike is generally slathered in spoiled mayonnaise anyway. (Even if the thief is wise to the fact that it's only a misconception that spoiled mayonnaise causes food poisoning, funky mayo is still in itself a sufficient deterrent.)

So if some guy with scary eyes who looks like the dad from "Alf" tries to sell you a bike covered in mayonnaise for $20, you can safely assume it's mine. Even though he's taken it from me, I still own it.