Just Noodling Around

Firstly, it looks like the Walz limited edition BSNYC "collabo" (I collaborated with myself on it) cap is officially sold out:

I can't believe they sold all two.

Fortunately there are still various other styles to choose from (including the books, which you're welcome to strap to your head), but you'll be pleased to know that we plan to bring you more limited edition caps in the not-too-distant future.  Indeed, some of you have expressed a desire for caps in colors other than black, and to that end I've decided to make the next design a collabo with you, my cherished readers.  Granted, I'm not sure how I'll do that exactly, but I imagine I'll open the design up to some sort of public comment period, like the Department of Transportation does before they put in a bike lane.  And I'm sure it will play out exactly the same way, in that nobody will bother to show up, the design will eventually come out anyway, and then everyone will berate me for how awful it is and ask why they weren't consulted.

In the meantime, please feel free to send suggestions either to the bottom of this post in the form of a comment, or to me directly via the electronic mail.  Also, keep in mind there are certain things Walz simply won't do, including but not limited to:

--Incorporating a plume
--Incorporating a beverage holder
--Incorporating a fan or other cooling technology
--Kippot production (the manufacturing guidelines and Rabbinical approval process are too onerous)

Believe me, I've asked for all of the above, so I know what I'm talking about.

Other than that I'm open to anything, because I need to sell lots of caps.  That way I can buy a back-up WorkCycles just in case my current one gets stolen again.

Then, once I've cornered the hat market (hey, a tricorne hat, now there's an idea), I'll probably branch out into limited edition BSNYC pool noodles, since they're poised to become the hot new cycling safety accessory:

(Via CommieCanuck)

Which is ironic, because Mario Cipollini says nobody is safe from his pool noodle:

When Cipo unzips his pants the theme from "Jaws" plays.

As for our enterprising Torontonian, he's found that ever since he started cycling with a foam feeler protruding from his rack drivers have given him more room out there on the road:

“People get really insulated inside a vehicle,” Huska said. “They don’t really know where the edges of their vehicle are.”

This is true, though in fairness to them they generally don't know where the edges of their own bodies are either.

It's called the Tim Hortons Effect.

But, for the past year, drivers have given Huska a wider berth.

Now, when he mounts his trusty two-wheeled steed, Huska is protected by a pool noodle.

The key, apparently, is that the pool noodle is both laterally floppy and vertically floppy:

Strapped to his bike’s frame with bungee cords, the floppy foam cylinder is a reminder to drivers not to get too close.

Though if you're considering implementing this technique in the UK, Australia, or any other country where they drive on the "other" side of the road, keep in mind they're directional so you'll need a right-hand drive-specific pool noodle:

As opposed to the left-hand drive models we use here in North America:

Using the wrong pool noodle can result in death, or at the very least in tapping pedestrians on the buttocks with a foamy "FWAP!" and getting punched in the face.

Of course, New Yorkers are no strangers to using pool noodles in traffic, but the difference is we put them on our cars:

(I did not take this photo and don't know who did.)

I'm old enough to remember when bumpers once offered protection to the car, but then they gradually evolved into something that requires protection, because if you return a leased car with scuffed bumpers the bank will bend you over and perform a rectal cash-ectomy.

Gotta love the auto-industrial complex.

In any case the result is people in New York City drive around with all manner of ridiculous contraptions attached to their bumpers to protect their cars while they're stored on the public roadways for free.  Sadly this defensive mindset doesn't extend to actual driving, but fortunately the media and the police extend them every courtesy after they run somebody down because they can relate to the mental anguish a driver experiences when they sustain cosmetic damage to their cars.

Lastly, the LVMH Group is apparently poised to buy Pinarello, arguably the Fredliest of bike brands:

LVMH Group is best known for its high-end brands Louis Vuitton fashion and handbags, Moet & Chandon champagnes, along with a wide range of luxury brands in the clothing, cosmetics, fashion accessories, jewellery, perfumes, spirits, watches and wines arena. However, according to the report, LVMH Group is interested in expanding into the sports, wellness and leisure markets with cycling's prominent brand Pinarello as its primary purchase objective.

I commend them on their choice, as Pinarello will make a fine addition to their exquisite portfolio of Eurodouchery.  After this the next acquisition is going to be either Assos or Rapha, and by this time next year you can expect them to offer an $8,000 leather Louis Vuitton pool noodle.

You heard it here first.

The Importance of Being Prudent

Last Friday night my WorkCycles Fr8 was stolen:

And subsequently recovered.

Here's what happened.  Are you ready?

(Sorry for the corny pun.)

Then let's begin.

My older son's school does a "Movie Night" to benefit the parents' association.  Basically this involves a bunch of elementary school kids binging on junk food and then shouting at a screen in the auditorium for an hour and a half.  If you've ever been to the "Rocky Horror Picture Show" it's pretty much exactly like that.

So off we went.

We got a late start, and we rolled up to the school on the WorkCycles about 20 minutes after the movie began.  The sun had been down for at least an hour now so it was dark outside.  As I was about to lock my bike to a street sign I noticed that the lock I usually keep on the front rack was not there.  Then I remembered that I had used it to lock my son's bike to our outdoor rack the last time we'd ridden together.  So there I was with no lock, save for the WorkCycles's frame lock, which is basically one of these:

At this point I had three (3) options:

1) Go back home and get a lock, which would take a total of 20-30 minutes and take me over the highest natural point in the Bronx twice;

B) Go inside and ask someone if I could stow the bike somewhere;

III) Just set the frame lock and hope for the best.

Not only was Option 1 at odds with my inherent laziness, but by the time we got back we would have missed most of Movie Night, the highlight of my son's pre-Halloween social calendar.  As for Option III, only an idiot would do that.  After all, I've written four (4) books, and in at least two (2) of them I expound upon the importance of following proper locking protocol at all times--even when it seems like overkill.  Clearly the most sagacious choice then would be to take Option B.

So naturally I went with Option III.

I knew even as I made the decision that it was, objectively speaking, a bad one.  However, I was at that moment brimming over with good will.  See, I'm quite fond of my son's school, and amidst this kind and nurturing environment I temporarily fell victim to the delusion that parking my bike in a half-assed fashion outside of it was a gesture of trust on my part.  I had visions of emerging from the building in about an hour's time amidst a bunch of giddy children and contented parents, returning to my unmolested Dutch bicycle with its two kiddie seats, and basking in a sense of community.

Also, I reasoned, this isn't exactly Midtown, where the professional bike thieves ply their trade with power tools.  Only an opportunist is going to steal a bike in this neighborhood, and they're clearly not going to bother dragging away a 50lb bicycle from in front of a school once they realize it won't roll.

Even so, I wasn't totally delusional, and so I hedged my bet somewhat by parking the bike in some shrubbery by the entrance where it would be somewhat hidden from view.*

*[WARNING: The use of hedge and shrub in this sentence in conjunction with earlier corn joke meets or exceeds society's maximum allowable awful punning quotient.]

It's worth noting at this point that my six year-old son was not even remotely as naive as I was.  Indeed, as I stowed the bike in the hedges like a schmuck he expressed repeated concerns that somebody might steal it.  Imperiously and condescendingly, I dismissed these concerns.  "I think it'll be fine," I replied haughtily.  

And in we went.

About an hour later we indeed emerged from the building amidst a bunch of giddy children and contented parents, except instead of returning to my unmolested Dutch bicycle I returned to an empty patch of dirt behind some shrubs.  As is always the case in these sorts of situations, my first reaction was one of denial--someone must have moved it inside, I must have parked it somewhere else and forgot, etc.--though ultimately there was no getting around what had happened:

My bike just got stolen from Movie Night.

I turned to the head of the parents' association, who happened to be standing right there, and who I vaguely knew to be something of a bike person.  "My bike was stolen," I informed him, and before I knew it he'd given me his own bicycle (which, because he's not an idiot, he'd parked inside the school) and sent me off in search of someone dragging a 50lb bicycle while he undertook his own search.  

Off I rode into the night, attempting to put myself into the mind of the thief.  (The one good thing about getting your bike stolen at a school event is that there are plenty of people to watch your kid while you chase the perpetrator.)  Where would I go with my catch?  The school was mostly surrounded by private houses, and the nearest civilization into which one could conceivably disappear was Yonkers less than a mile to the north, so that's the direction I headed.  I rode up to and over the city line, then I came back, then I combed the neighborhood streets.  I figured sooner or later I was bound to see someone hauling an unwieldy bicycle with its generator lights flashing.

Nothing.

Defeated, I returned to the school.  I figured I'd get my son home, then hop in THE CAR THE BANK OWNS UNTIL I FINISH PAYING THEM BACK and resume the search.  Maybe instead of dragging the bike the thief had hidden it somewhere nearby in order to return to it later.  At the very least I could drive around all night playing "Love Hurts" by Nazareth over and over again while sobbing.

Fortunately, all this proved unnecessary, for a short while after I returned to the school so did the head of the parents' association--with my bicycle.  The thief (or thieves), it would seem, had indeed abandoned the bicycle nearby.  Two young teenagers he'd enlisted in the search had found it.  Of course neither of us could be totally sure they weren't the ones who stole the bike in the first place, but they seemed earnest enough.  And either way, I had my bike back, so I decided to believe that they were heroes and gave them a modest cash reward.

As for the bike, though I'd largely been made whole again, it was in a bit of a state.  Clearly the perpetrator had made a caveman-like attempt to open the frame lock.  The cylinder, while still operable, was sticky, as though they'd jammed something in there to wrench it open.  The rear spoke guards, while recovered along with the bike, were no longer on it.  They'd also clearly attempted to remove the rear kiddie seat as the thumb screws which old it to the frame were missing.  Finally, both tires were deflated, and since the valve caps were still on we figured the thief must have punctured them as a final "fuck you" before giving up.

Still, I had my bike, and as my son and I walked home with it (I had to push it over the big hill I'd been too lazy to ride over just an hour or so before) we both marveled at the sort of person who would unleash such abuse on a bicycle with a baby seat on it.  My son also reminded me over and over that he had told me not to leave it unlocked, and while I was tempted to reprimand him for his insolence I had no choice but to agree.  I did lamely attempt to spin it into a lesson about the importance of staying alert, but it was clear to both of us that the only person who needed a lesson that night was me.

So always lock your bike.

Grab That Wednesday by the P****!

Wednesday means many things to many people.

For the working stiffs, it's hump day:

(Look at these suckers with their steady incomes and their health benefits!)

For Mario Cipollini, it's hump day:

(Then again, so is every other day.)

And for recreational marijuana enthusiasts everywhere, it's slump day:

(Then again, so is every other day.)

For one exclusive group of Freds, however, Wednesday means putting on your dandiest Rapha gear and pedaling off into the Palisades:

(Via @somebadideas)

It's worth noting that before the #Occupy movement a 1% biker gang meant something totally different:

But the times they are a-changin', as Jacob Dylan or John Lennon or somebody like that once sang.  1% biker gangs aren't a bunch of thick-necked, crank-addled motorcyclists anymore.  Now they're a bunch of urban professionals with depilated legs and a penchant for designer cycling clothing and exotic crotchal unguents:

At 8:30 on a Wednesday morning, most corporate big shots are hustling to the office or negotiating power breakfasts. But in a Soho bike-gear boutique, another group of movers and shakers is off the 9-to-5 grid. Casually sipping coffee, the men chat about recent rides, family doings and the odd business trip.

Are power breakfasts even a thing?

I wouldn't know.  My power breakfasts consist of peeling and scarfing a hard-boiled egg over the garbage before taking my kid to the school bus stop.  But that's because I'm not a corporate big shot, nor am I a member of the Fredly Illuminati:

Officially called the Wednesday Club Ride, but better known as the Freelancers Ride and organized by the elite two-wheel accessories company Rapha New York, the cultish jaunts are part bike ride, part secret society. The 40-mile weekly rides, which started two years ago, are opportunities for cementing relationships — and networking — on the open road, from downtown Gotham to the picturesque Palisades in New Jersey.

But don't be fooled.  They're not really freelancers.  According to Rapha they're actually a bunch of rich guys who can do whatever the fuck they want:

Despite the name, few participants are actually independent contractors. “We call it the Freelancers’ Ride so that people wouldn’t complain about it starting at 9 a.m., in the middle of the week, when most people are at work,” says Derrick Lewis, Rapha’s communications manager for North America. “These guys work at high enough levels that they can decide to take off the day or the morning.”

Though according to the riders themselves they're "in between gigs," which is otherwise known as being "unemployed:"

Judging by their chiseled physiques, pricey gear and sturdy bikes, the crew is pretty seasoned. Sipping an espresso at the communal table in the front of the store, Chelsea resident Paul Livornese, a 54-year-old advertising creative director who’s in between gigs, says he worked hard to hang on and stick with the group for the first couple of rides. “The Wednesday ride has upped my bike game,” he says. (Like most other participants, he became acquainted with the ride from being a customer of the store.)

So basically it's a ride for unemployed guys masquerading as a ride for rich and powerful guys who enjoy linguistically slumming by using the term "freelancing" ironically.

They should just call it the "Euphemism Ride" and be done with it.

Or, they could always call it the "Excuse Ride:"

“I’ve seen people here, between jobs, network for a few weeks or months, find jobs and then disappear,” says Livornese, leaving the impression that they became too busy working to ride. “I told my wife that I might find my next job through my cycling network.”

Wow, that's genius!  The only group of people who make more creative excuses for their self-indulgent behavior than cyclists is drug addicts.  Up until now I thought I'd heard them all, including but not limited to:

--"I need a new bicycle, the disc brakes will make me much safer."

--"Let's take a weekend trip to this really boring destination!  And oh, would you look at that, there just happens to be a Gran Fondo there!  What are the odds?"

--"Yes, racing takes up all my free time and when I'm home I'm detached and exhausted, but at least I'm too tired for philandering.  And that's good for our relationship."

Now you can add "The group ride might make me rich" to the list.

Speaking of excuses, Team Sky's would-be drug courier speaks!

"It was just an envelope, a Jiffy bag, a small Jiffy bag. As far as I know I could have been Speedplay pedals in there," Cope told Cyclingnews, before adding that the press were "digging at nothing."

"I don't know, no," he said when asked about the contents.

Wow, "Speedplay pedals" is an even better code word than "Edgar!"  But for someone who had no idea what was in the envelope he was carrying he's oddly certain it was nothing unusual:

"I don't have a clue what was in there. It wasn't something unusual either. If people were going somewhere they'd just say 'can you take this?'. There's no way that British Cycling are going to put something dodgy or illegal for them to take through customs. It's just not going to happen. It's just madness. You have to go through two sets of customs. Why are you going to take the risk?

"It was for the doctor," he added.

It seems to me someone with this combination of total faith and lack of curiosity regarding what he's carrying would make for the perfect mule--though he is more than happy to keep listing random things that could have been in there:

"It was nothing to do with Brad," he said. "I gave it to Richard Freeman. This parcel was asked for, for Richard Freeman. It could have been nasal strips or bandaids, I really don't know."

I realize Speedplays are pretty light, but I'm pretty sure a package containing them would still be considerably heavier than an envelope containing Band-Aids.  And sure, when you're in France and you need a Band-Aid it makes perfect sense to have them flown in from Manchester via Geneva.

Lastly, as a semi-professional bike blogger I receive some pretty ridiculous press releases, but few are as absurd as a vibrating navigation belt:

I'm not sure it's safe to have a vibrating accessory so close to your genitals, and if the route is particularly circuitous one could wind up lying in the middle of traffic twitching with pleasure.

I'll wait for the limited Cipollini collabo edition.

BSNYC Friday No Quiz Just Plugs!

Remember how last Friday I said if there's no school then I'm probably taking off that day?

Well guess what?

Monday is Columbus Day, school is closed, and I'll taking off that day.

I'll be back here on Tuesday, October 11th.

Hey, whaddya want?  This is the way it's gonna be until either they grow up or someone invents some kind of self-parenting child technology, whichever comes first.

I'd leave them with my Asimo but he's useless on the subway stairs:



Plus, since the last software update all he wants to do is kill the cat.

And yes, I do think it's odd that we still observe Columbus Day:

But given the current state of affairs in this country I think it's the least of our problems at the moment.

So instead, let's talk about bike-riding hats.  See this?

It's my latest cap from Walz.  It's a LIMITED EDITON(!), and it features the not-at-all iconic Broadway Bridge:

Which has deep significance in the context of this blog, for it is the starting point of the legendary BSNYC Gran Fondon't.  It's also the bridge I use to go to Manhattan, and if you look very closely you'll see teeny tiny little cyclists on it:

This is ironic, because the Broadway Bridge is completely lacking in bike lanes.

Most importantly though, I chose it because it is an unassuming workhorse that does its job without drawing undue attention to itself (you know, pretty much the opposite of your self-promoting blogger here), and who needs yet another picture of the fucking Brooklyn Bridge anyway?

You'll also be pleased to know that references to this blog are subtle, being limited to the seal on the bridge towers and the spectral logo under the brim:

As for the material, it's Walz's breathable mesh, which I absolutely love:

Moisture Wicking – Disco never died and neither will polyester, but this isn't your grandma's polyester. Our 100% double circular knit moisture wicking polyester is a breathable mesh that allows airflow to keep you dry and comfortable. Our moisture wicking fabric is so light and comfortable, that you'll forget you're even wearing it on your head. But don't worry, all the envious looks and wolf whistles will remind you that your cap not only wicks sweat but looks great too.

References to grandmothers who were young enough to be part of the disco generation alienate me because they make me feel old.  Nevertheless, if you've never worn one of these Walz breathable mesh caps, I can assure you with the utmost sincerity that they're great.  They're light, they fit comfortably under helmets, they don't fade in the wash, and of course they're moisture-wicking.

Basically it's like wearing a really nice jersey on your head.

Best of all, there's a discount code!  Here it is:

BSNYC2787

That will get you 10% off, and it's good until November 1st, so between that and the limitedness of this edition you'd better put your computer in the big ring and place an order.

And don't forget all this other fine moichandise:

Indeed, you'd be forgiven for looking upon this schmear and thinking I was a going concern in the schmatta trade.  Alas, the fact is I'm less a going concern than I am someone who's simply growing concerned about the long-term sustainability of a career in bicycle wiseassery, but whatever.  All I'm saying is it wouldn't kill you to buy a hat.

So with that I take my leave for the weekend, and I give you permission to do the same.  Thanks for indulging my absenteeism and self-floggery, ride safe, and I'll see you back here on Tuesday, October 11th.

Your's Ect.,


--Wildcat Rock Machine

Greatness is Elusive

So have you seen The Greatest Fixie Video Ever yet?  Sure, of course you have.  But you know you want to watch it again:



I first learned of this video from Stevil Kinevil of All Hail the Black Market, and since then it has gone "viral," infecting even the Today Show--because Americans love nothing more than laughing at cyclists:

A video posted by jeremysantucci / TUCCI GUCCI (@jeremysantucci) on Oct 4, 2016 at 6:24am PDT

The above video is via the rider's own Instagram, and as you can see in the accompanying commentary he's already apologized for his "unsportsmanlike conduct"--an apology I'd argue is completely unnecessary since the entertainment value far exceeds the value of his plastic bicycle.  (Or, more accurately, his "homie Sergio's" plastic bicycle.)  After all, it's been years since the "Joey's OK" video:



And since then we've been subsisting on a thin gruel of triathlete fails and roller mishaps:


As for the backstory behind this latest video, from what I can gather, the rider threw his bike because he had just crashed out of the qualifier for the Red Hook Crit in Milan.  Here's how one of his bros describes it:

Here is the full video for those who asked. @jeremysantucci got touched and broke his bike after he survived to a terrible crash, not his fault, in which he risked seriously his life. For the records the bike was already damaged. #thewonderfulsocks #jeremysantucci #cyclinglife #cycling #fixie #redhook #jeremyishuman

Right, so basically your #garden #variety #temper #tantrum.

But I wasn't satisfied with the trite outburst/apology cycle and concominant #blizzard of #hashtags that has become all too familiar in the Internet age.  I also wanted to know more about the rider himself, and by extension this new breed of globetrotting fixie crit racers.  Well, as his "Blue Steel" Twitter profile pic suggests:

When not riding a bike he's a model:

And sometimes even an underpants model:

What's more, this clearly isn't the first time he's taken his anger out on the tools of his trade, and here he is flagrantly tearing his clothing to pieces:

("They're my homie Sergio's, he's like family, so he was nice enough to lend me these beautiful boxer shorts...")

Presumably he stumbled on the runway and his temper got the better of him.

Yes, Santucci is possessed of both smoldering good looks and smoldering rage--though the bike throw seen 'round the world was a long time in the making, for this isn't the first time he crashed out of a Red Hook Crit qualifier:

Jeremy Santucci, 35, was one such rider who didn’t make it to the finals this year — though he probably should have. With three laps to go in a strong qualifying race, Santucci found himself sitting comfortably in sixth position when the rider in front of him crashed. Santucci went down with him, taking a pedal to the face and then getting hit from behind. His Cinelli Mash frame was destroyed and he was suddenly out — but he’ll be back. “The Red Hook Crit is the wildest, most adrenaline-filled race you could ever be involved in,” the New York City–based cyclist says. “You have the fastest track racers from around the world coming to battle it out on an F-1 course without any brakes. We’re all just a bunch of adrenaline junkies who want to go fast.”

I learned two things from the above.  First, never, ever lend Jeremy Santucci your bike.  Second, and far more profound, it must be incredibly frustrating to command the lens as a model yet eternally be chasing the elusive wheel of fixed-gear greatness.  It just goes to show that cycling is the great equalizer, a realm in which the unemployed couch-surfer can drop the filthy rich hedge fund manager, and the wily old Fred or Frederica on the steel bicycle can outwit the millennial on the plastic superbike.  Indeed, the dues we've paid elsewhere are non-transferrable to cycling, and we all start with an account balance of zero.  I mean sure, Santucci was winning races this past summer...but they were Cat 5 races:

I'm no great fan of USA Cycling, but there's something to be said about learning the fundamentals of bike racing before targeting a race that takes the criterium concept to its limits.

Then again, he's easily now the world's most famous Cat 5, whereas back in the last century I was merely the world's pastiest Cat 5:

(Oy.)

Ah yes, those were the days...quill stems and square tapers, razor nicks on my weak and pallid legs, and my very first taste of sweet, sweet crabon with that fork.

I was far more humble, but perhaps I had reason.  Maybe it was because there was barely an Internet on which to brag...or maybe it's because I didn't exactly have what it took to become an underpants model:

Oh please, don't pretend you didn't notice.

Speaking of bike racing, the UCI may have to shorten the World Championship road race in Qatar due to "extreme heat:"

Heat is going to be a big issue at this year’s UCI Road World Championships, with temperatures expected to near 40 Celsius despite the later date. With this in mind, the UCI has taken some measures to ensure the safety of the riders and staff, including daily temperature checks and a ‘beat the heat’ booklet.

Daily temperature checks?  Booklets???  What about FAN HATS?!?

On the UCI website, the governing body explained that a group of four experts - Dr. Anton Zasada, Dr. Olaf Schumacher, Dr. Sébastien Racinais and Dr. Juan Manuel Alonso – will give daily assessments of the weather forecast and convene before each road race. Further checks, using ‘thermal stress indicators’, will be done by two UCI representatives. Decisions will then be made on the basis of these tests and consultation with Athlete’s commission president Bobbie Traksel and President of the Commissaires’ Panel Ingo Rees.

Presumably those "thermal stress indicators" will be applied directly to the scranus as crotchal conditions are by far the most important dataset in terms of performance:

(You can never have enough data.)

And here's the booklet [warning: PDF]:

Which contains diagrams telling you stuff you already know, like the sun makes you hot:

And no, I wasn't kidding about those thermal stress indicators on the scranus, because check out where the thermometer's pointing:

Still, I would have taken a different editorial direction with the pamphlet, such as this:

Or this:

Or even this:

It's fun for the whole team!

Just fill it out, send it in, and you'll be transcending those pesky physical limitations in no time.

If only this triathlete had had a TUE for ChapStick:



"Superbowl of Ironman," really?

That's the Superbowl of dumb analogies.

This Just In: Shofar, So Good!

Firstly, you may have noticed I haven't given a Friday Fun Quiz in awhile.

Good for you.

Secondly, I will not be updating this blog on Monday, October 3rd or Tuesday, October 4th, but I will return on Wednesday, October 5th with regular updates.  Why?  Because it's Rosh Hashanah, which is the Jewish New Year and not the name of a woman who's a progressive rock superfan and huge stoner.  (That's Rush Hash Anna I'm talking about, obviously.)  By the way, most Jewish holidays involve an accessory of some kind, and in this case it's the shofar:

Though Rush Hash Anna uses it for something else:

Do I observe Rush Hashanah?  Absolutely not.  Religion is the trans fat of the masses.  However, the schools are closed for it, which means I've got to put on my parenting gloves--and if I'm at the mercy of the New York City Department of Education then goddamn it so are you.

(Pro tip: if you want to have a good sense of when I'll be taking time off just take a look at the DOE website.)

Of course, if it's Rush Hash Anna then it must be autumn, and if it's autumn then it's time to get the ol' Milwaukee ready for the cold and the wet by slapping some fenders on it:

And yes, you'll be happy to know I dug out the safety fenders with the breakaway struts so I don't bust a digit again.  My thumb's still not right after all these months, and you can believe me when I tell you it's really thrown me off of my tire-changing game.

By the way, note my sweet artisanal kickstand, which of course I keep inside my EH Works tool roll at all times:

If you want one of these they're only $129.99, they're available for both standard BB shells as well as BB30, and you can order them here.

Just keep in mind that they're handmade one at a time, so allow at least 6-8 weeks for delivery.

In other news, I've finally lost my last remaining shred of faith in cycling and humanity thanks to this abomination:

Easy now, it's not a sign of the Apocalypse, and it's not that we've given up on the youth, it's merely another option, albeit an expensive, controversial option to get kids outside and on two wheels. Haibike's Sduro HardFour 4.0, along with its odd name, is an e-bike with 24in wheels and a top speed of 12mph with aspirations of allowing little riders to do bigger rides and keep up with mom and dad. 

No, this is ABSOLUTELY a sign of the Apocalypse.  And stop justifying things because they "get kids outside."  You can also get a kid outside by leaving a trail of cupcakes, pitching a tent, and setting an Xbox up inside it, but that doesn't make it a good idea.  In fact this is even worse than doing that because at least the Xbox trick will only cost you a few hundred bucks, whereas this bike costs well over $2,000:

Available now with pricing at £1,988, US$2,599, Australian pricing TBD.

Presumably the Australian pricing is pending whether or not it will ship with a full-face motorcycle helmet.

Also, "allowing little riders to do bigger rides and keep up with mom and dad," really?  That's a pretty expensive bribe just because you feel the need to do a grinduro™ epic® and you can't deal with finding a babysitter.  And not only are you squandering money, but you're also ruining your kids for bikes for the rest of their lives, because there's no way they'll want to pedal a regular bike after this.  It's sad to think that if I'm lucky to still be mountain biking in 20 years the trails will be teeming with people on ebikes because they can't imagine riding on anything else.

So thanks in advance to all you selfish parents out there for ruining my golden years.

I guess I'll just have to lease a Toyota Avalon and move to Florida.

But it's not all gloom and doom out there, and I was pleased to see that the New York City Department of Transportation at least recognizes the need to grow the percentage of bicycle trips significantly:

Earlier this month, DOT released a blueprint for increasing bike mode share in its five-year strategic plan, which includes protected bike lanes and a five-borough Citi Bike system. The Office of Sustainability report also acknowledges that the city has a long way to go before cycling is an accessible transportation option in many parts of NYC.

“Despite the rapid growth in the city’s bicycle network, there are still many areas that lack sufficient bike connections,” the report says. “In addition to planned expansions, the City will emphasize an all-ages and abilities core network of protected bike lanes throughout the five boroughs, and the build-out of key connectors linking neighborhoods to transit hubs.”

Sounds good to me.

And hey, guess what's more dangerous than not wearing a helmet: simply breathing!

The report highlights the public health effects of high emissions. Fine particulate matter, or PM2.5, released by vehicles causes 320 premature deaths and 870 emergency room visits each year, according to the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene.

"The victim was not wearing a respirator."

Still, we're going to have to do a lot more than increase the number of bike lanes if we really want to increase cycling, and I was impressed to see that London's mayor is looking to ban trucks that don't meet increased safety standards:

Although lorries account for just 4 per cent of the total mileage driven in London, they account for a hugely disproportionate percentage of casualties among vulnerable road users.

In the past two years, HGVs were involved in 58 per cent of cyclist deaths in London, and in 23 per cent of pedestrian fatalities.

Khan said the scheme was the first of its kind in the world and would result in many lorries being upgraded before the ban came into place.

“I’m not prepared to stand by and let dangerous lorries continue to cause further heartbreak and tragedy on London’s roads,” said Khan.

When asked to comment on whether or not such a policy on lorries could be instituted in New York City as a part of the Vision Zero initiative, mayor Bill de Blasio responded, "Huh, what?  Hugh Laurie?  Absolutely, I love his work."

(Bill de Blasio: Loves the "House" guy.)

The chances of any mayor in the greater metropolitan area standing up to any business involving trucks are essentially nonexistent:

And with that I ride befendered into the long weekend.  Thanks for reading, ride safe, and I'll see you back here on Wednesday, October 5th.

Sinsereley,



--Wildcat Rock Machine