Salmon Spread 'Em!

So Alec Baldwin got arrested on his bike yesterday, but I prefer to make this all about me:

(I, Fredly Adonis.)

Since the invention of the English language back in the late 19th century, many people have used it to write books and poems and articles and stuff.  Some of this stuff is pretty good, too, which is impressive given that English is an ugly language best described as German, only with more lisping and fewer umlauts.  One example of good stuff written in English is "The Charge of the Light Brigade," by Alfred, Lord Tennyson:

Oh, my, god. Becky, look at her butt.

It is so big. [scoff] She looks like,

one of those rap guys' girlfriends.

But, you know, who understands those rap guys? *scoff*

They only talk to her, because,

she looks like a total prostitute, 'kay?

I mean, her butt, is just so big.

I can't believe it's just so round, it's like,

out there, I mean - gross. Look!

She's just so ... black!

Actually, that wasn't Tennyson.  That was Sir, Mix-A-Lot.

But I digest.

The point is that, in literally decades of writing stuff in English, only a few great literary minds have transcended lame stories about whales and scarlet letters by adding new expressions to the language, thereby changing the very way English is used and forever leaving their verbal body jewelry in this ever-changing tongue.  Here's a short list of writers who have furnished us with indispensable turns of phrase over the years:

William Shakespeare

("This pen smells like ass."--William Shakespeare)

Shakespeare's contributions to English expressions are too numerous to enumerate here:  "Discretion is the better part of valor," "Fast in February, fried in July," "This pen smells like ass"...the list goes on.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

("Half a league onward, / All in the valley of Death..."--Alfie Tennyson)

Tennyson was the first writer in English ever to liken his phallus to a serpent, as he did in "Ulysses" with this metaphor:

My anaconda don't want none

Unless you've got buns, hun

Prior to this, it was customary for male writers to liken their appendages to hedgehogs, which was confusing as well as off-putting.  (As for "buns," many readers mistakenly assume Tennyson is referring to the buttocks, but the fact is he just really liked bread.)

And then there's me:

Wildcat Rock Machine

("It's not that my anaconda don't want none, it's just that this closeout chamois cream I bought from Nashbar is kinda burny."--Wildcat Rock Machine)

Sure, to date I've only contributed one (1) enduring expression to the English language, but it's a doozy.  (H/T to Shakespeare on "doozy.")  So what is it?  Why, it's "salmon," of course!

(Oh, come on, how is that even a thing?)

Sorry, wrong definition, here's the one I invented:

(How the hell is mine only number five?  Who edits this thing?  It's like this "Urban Dictionary" isn't a real dictionary at all!)

But yeah, the point is that I coined the term "salmon" for someone riding against traffic on a bicycle, and I did it exactly five years ago yesterday, on Wednesday, May 13th, 2009:

(Actually, I probably used it a bunch of times before this, but whatever.)

Since then, "salmon" (as both noun and verb) has become common parlance in the cycling community and beyond, to extent that David Byrne even used it in the New York Times back in 2012:

How do I use a bike on a typical day? The other afternoon, I took a break from writing and biked south to Chelsea to get groceries. I rode down the protected bike lane on Ninth Avenue; it’s definitely a lot more relaxing to ride in these than it is to negotiate naked New York streets, though you do have to watch out for salmon-cyclists who ride against the flow of traffic.

The hyphen notwithstanding, that's my word, and the very moment David Byrne--the David Byrne, who doesn't even own a car for chrissake!--used "salmon" in our newspaper of record is the very same moment I should have retired.  I mean really, how much better does it get for a bike blogger?  David Byrne using your word in the Times is like Rob Ford using your pipe in one of his crack-smoking videos.

Yet instead I keep plugging away, hoping in vain that one day something even more exciting happens, like Rob Ford name-checking me in one of his crack-smoking videos.

By the way, read this line again, only out of context and in a Russian accent:

it’s definitely a lot more relaxing to ride in these than it is to negotiate naked New York streets

And tell me it doesn't sound like Vladimir Putin explaining that he now prefers cycling in khakhis to cycling in the nude.

In any case, back to Alec Baldwin, who, on the fifth anniversary of my coinage of the term "salmon," was arrested after police stopped him for salmoning:

Or, if you preferred, he was BUSTED IN NYC FOR ILLEGAL BIKING!!!

Which undoubtedly prompted millions of Americans to ask the following question:

"Were Mr. Baldwin's civil rights violated?"

"Oh my god, was he wearing a helment!?!?"

The answer, of course, is no, condemning him to fry in the electric chair of popular opinion for all eternity.  Moreover, not only wasn't he wearing a helment, but it appears he wasn't even wearing a hat.  Indeed, it looks like he may have been wearing a visor:

Shielding your eyes from the sun yet leaving your scalp exposed to melanoma-triggering ultraviolet rays?  Does this guy have a death wish or what?!?

Anyway, as the inventor of the term "salmon" (have I mentioned that's one of mine?), I'm now dismayed that it's being used to smear and pillory an innocent celebrity:

Oh, come on, get over it.  What did Alec Baldwin ever do to you?  Granted, if you're a paparazzo he may or may not have lobbed a homophobic slur or two your way, but otherwise he's done nothing except act well in movies and be hilarious on TV.  Come on, they arrested the guy!  If he had been a member of the smugerati riding a bamboo bike while wearing shants and an artisanal fanny pack the cycling community would be in an uproar, but because it's some Long Island schlub in a visor all anybody can do is ridicule him.

Jeez, some "bike culture" we are.  Alec Baldwin rides a bike in New York City!  Is he any different from us?  Okay, a little hairier maybe, but if you wax him, does he not wince?  [H/T to Shakespeare again, that guy's a freaking quote factory!]  We should all have his (hairy) back.  Therefore, it shames me deeply to see the word I invented (yep, "salmon," that was all me) used to shame one of our own as he's hauled off to jail.  I invented "salmon" to be our word!  Had Baldwin merely been photographed salmoning I'd have been the first to mock him for it.  Yet the very moment he was molested by the long arm of the law the entire dynamic changed.  It's like continuing to taunt a classmate with "Your momma" jokes* after you find out his mother's in the hospital.

*[Your momma's so hairy she looks like Alec Baldwin in "Miami Blues."]

Also, wasn't wasn't this the day the police were supposed to be busting drivers?

The NYPD says it's cracking down on people who text and drive or fail to stop for pedestrians.

Police announced two 24-hour-long enforcement initiatives this week.

One started at midnight and is in effect all day Tuesday.

The other is in effect all day Friday.

The NYPD urges everyone to yield to pedestrians at crosswalks and put their phones away while driving.

Yeah, I know it sucks, but rest assured that after Friday you'll be able to resume your usual menacing behavior.

Of course, I still find salmoning just as irritating as I did five years ago, but that's just it--it's annoying.  Most cycling violations are, if we're to be honest, little more than annoying.  Sure, some violations are potentially dangerous to the rider and others, but usually they just cause you to swerve a little and curse the rider for being a dick.

In light of this, it would make sense for the police could treat a lot of these violations like the annoyances they are.  Here's an idea: next time the police encounter a salmon, they should just tell him or her to turn around.  Catch and release, it's as simple as that!  If you were salmoning and a cop told you to turn around, wouldn't you just turn around?  Sure you would.

Instead, whenever they stop someone on a bike, it always seems to turn into something like this:

Paybarah, a designer specializing in lettering and typography, told us he was stopped on the morning of March 20th while biking west on Houston past Broadway. He says he was stopped by "Officer Rich" of the 10th Precinct, who was in an undercover cop car, after he (admittedly) ran a red light. Paybarah took out his ID and immediately started taking video as the cop approached him: "After those 10 seconds I was pulled off my bike, pushed up against the metal fence, placed in handcuffs and put into the back seat of the car. Other officers came. They joked saying they were going to 'handcuff my bike to the tree.'"

Certainly in Baldwin's case it wasn't as simple as "he was salmoning so they arrested him," and there was also the question of whether he was being "disorderly," as well as that whole creepy "taking him to the station until they could confirm his identity" thing.  (The police love to do that with cyclists.)  Still, with all the celebrities out there driving drunk and wrecking cars and all the rest of it, it seems a shame to excoriate Baldwin for salmoning, when instead we should be high-fiving him for riding a bike in the first place.

But what do I know?  I'm only the guy who invented the term.

How Awesome I Am Part II: The Search for Humility

Yesterday I talked about how inventive I am, and as it turns out my inventiveness is so profound and far-reaching that my coverage of it must now enter a second day, for a Twitterer just alerted me to this:

Don't Salmon, Don't Shoal: Learning The Lingo Of Safe Cycling http://t.co/W7e9OrWXXu
— NPR News (@nprnews) May 15, 2014

As we already established, I singlehandedly invented the term "salmon" in the context of cycling.  Sure, some of you doubted the veracity of this claim, but I forgive you, since I know how the mind of the cyclist works.  Allow me to explain:

See, inherently, we all have a little bit of the retrogrouch in us, and therefore we refuse to acknowledge innovation.  This is why when a company starts touting its 650b mountain bike, some grizzled guy in jean shorts and sandals has to pipe up with: "New?!?  Ha!  We were riding singletrack on Dutch city bikes back in the early '60s!"  Similarly, when I assert my claim to the term "salmon," invariably someone's going to question the term's provenance and start up with the old "Bah!  You think you invented 'salmon?'  That's what we used to yell at those idiots riding Dutch city bikes on the hiking trails in the early '60s!" routine.

But yeah, the point is I invented "salmon."  I also invented "shoal:"

Got anything so say about that?  Of course you do, and I can already see the comments:

"You invented 'shoal?'  Humbug!  Back when I was riding with the Bumshtuppers Cycle Club out of Texassippi City, East Dakota, we used to say 'shoal' all the time.  We also used two-speed thread-on freewheels that you had to shift with a broomstick, and we used to have to stop and repack them every three miles or else they'd seize up and turn into fixed gears."

Be that as it may, it's abundantly clear to me that I have singlehandedly invented what no less an organization than NPR calls "the lingo of safe cycling," and it's both a blessing and a curse--and the "curse" part has nothing to do with the fact that they don't credit me anywhere in the article:

I don't mind this for three reasons:

1) True geniuses are seldom appreciated in their own time;

2) I am nothing if not benevolent, and these terms are my donation to our culture.  If you like, think of me as a literary philanthropist.  (Or, if you don't like, think of me as a giant douchebag.);

3) It makes me proud that my inventions are so popular it doesn't even occur to people to wonder about their source.  We take them for granted, as well we should.  Similarly, back in the 1500s, someone started using the latin word "scrotum" to mean "purse-like tegumentary investment of the testes and part of the spermatic cord; the cod," but we don't worry about who this person was before we say it ourselves, do we?  No we don't.  We just use the word freely, marveling in its utility, and occasionally modifying it ourselves to form new words such as "scranus," "scrote-face," and "scrotalitarian" (a superlative roughly equivalent to "epic" or "awesome," which I just now invented).  Then, as these words are used more and more frequently they too enter the lexicon, and this ever-evolving adaptability is what makes the English language so scrotalitarian.

No, the "curse" part is that I invented these words so that bike dorks like us could simultaneously chuckle over and vent about the behavior of our fellow cyclists.  I did not mean for "The Man" to use it to keep us down and excoriate us for our "bad behavior," nor am I proud to have inspired an entire genre of tight-ass journalism.  This isn't to say I find the NPR article objectionable, because it's mostly pretty good advice, though the writer clearly does not grasp the etymology of "shoal:"

Shoaling: A shoal is a school of fish. Or a collection of cyclists at a red light. That's where shoaling happens. A cyclist comes up to the light, eyeballs a cyclist already there, thinks, "I'm faster than that person," and moves ahead.

But who can truly judge a cyclist's speed potential? Maybe the person you've shoaled is faster than you and will want to pass you once the light changes. To avoid triggering such unnecessary passes (not to mention road rage), "it's safer for people to wait at the light with everybody else and make the pass in the lane," says Billing. Or if you're really in a rush, just ask the other cyclist: "Hey, I'm late, is it okay to get in front of you?"

A shoal is not a school of fish.  The correct term for a school of fish is "a school of fish."  A shoal is basically a sandbar, and it's a gradual accumulation of sand and sediment carried and dumped by a body of water.  Having basically grown up on a great big sandbar myself, I observed that cyclists deposit themselves at intersections in a similar fashion, ultimately forming long shoals that extend into the crosswalk and beyond.  I understand cyclist behavior because I'm more than just a bike blogger.  I'm a naturalist.

Actually, now that I think about it, my childhood on a giant sandbar also allowed me to watch horseshoe crabs humping, so next time you see a bunch of cyclists standing around without first getting off their bikes, go ahead and feel free to call it a "horseshoe clusterfuck:

(They're "doing it.")

They're particularly common at non-competitive group ride rest stops:

(Horseshoe clusterfuck.)

Though you'll also see groups of four or five fixie riders forming them outside of bars.

[Fun Fact: Horseshoe clustefucks are a leading cause of "chainring tattoos."]

What's particularly vexing about the immense popularity of my terminology is that there's not a similar taxonomy for drivers.  All bike month long it's salmon this and shoal that, but I have yet to see the mainstream media come out with an article imploring drivers not to be scrote-faces.

Then again, I suppose we don't really need to discuss drivers in terms of subtle gradation, since we can paint pretty much all of them with the same roller:

"Assholes."

In fact, I had something of a revelation this morning, when it occurred to me that, when you look at the vast transportation landscape, the one common denominator is this:

Drivers are assholes.*

*[In this case I'm defining "asshole" as a profoundly selfish and/or unaware person who thinks nothing of engaging in behavior that is highly likely to kill somebody else.]

I know this because I'm a naturalist and an observer, and I use various means of conveyance in my native environment, during which I carefully study the behavior of other road users.  Basically, across all transit modes, the only road users who are consistently assholes are drivers.  Here's how it breaks down:

Cycling

Who I encounter while cycling:

Pedestrians

Other Cyclists

Drivers

How they behave:

Pedestrians: Sometimes do stuff like walk out in front of you while drooling on their cellphones.

Other Cyclists: Sometimes salmon and shoal and form horseshoe clusterfucks outside of porta-pottys.

Drivers: They use their metal shitboxes like a coked-up porn star uses his dick, they fling their doors open into you, they harass you, they yell obscenities and slurs at you, and sometimes they run into you, lie about what happened, and don't get in trouble for it, and if you're lucky you don't die.

How this behavior affects me:

Pedestrians: Sometimes I have to slow down or change direction.

Other Cyclists: Sometimes I have to slow down, change direction, or yell out, "Heads up, scrote-face!"

Drivers: If I survive, it makes me feel like a coked-up porn star tried to rape me.

What this makes them:

Pedestrians: Annoying

Other Cyclists: Annoying

Drivers: Assholes

Walking

Who I encounter while walking:

Other Pedestrians

Cyclists

Drivers

How they behave:

Other Pedestrians: Stop short, walk slowly, fan out three or more abreast, blow smoke in my face, spit, jiggle with each footfall, stand there drooling on their cellphones, ask me for directions when the thing they're looking for is right in front of their goddamn faces!

Cyclists: Whiz by you when you're crossing the street, and occasionally when you're on the sidewalk.

Drivers: Run red lights while you're crossing, bear down on you when you're in the intersection with the right of way crossing with the light, roll stop signs while you're in the crosswalk, "salmon" (damn right drivers salmon!), reverse down the entire street at 40mph for a parking space (a form of salmoning), park wherever the hell they want, hit you and leave you to die, and if they're caught they lie about it, which absolves them completely.

How this behavior affects me: 

Other Pedestrians: Not that much.  Sometimes I have to walk around the jiggly people and the three-abreasters (usually the same people actually).  The worst is the the asking-for-directions thing, in which case they're robbing me of my valuable time, which is why instead of giving directions I usually hand over a dollar and ask them to fuck off.

Cyclists: It makes me want to take pictures of them and ridicule them on the Internet.

Drivers: It makes me feel like I'm getting face-fucked by a horseshoe crab.

What this makes them:

Other Pedestrians: Annoying

Cyclists: Annoying

Drivers: Complete Assholes

Driving

Who I encounter while driving:

Pedestrians

Cyclists

Other Drivers

How they behave:

Pedestrians: Sometimes do stuff like walk out in front of you while drooling on their cellphones.

Cyclists: Sometimes salmon or run red lights.  (You don't really notice the other stuff when you're driving.)  They can also be kinda hard to see at night if they don't have lights.

Other Drivers: Don't stop at stop signs, drive drunk, run red lights, cut you off on the Deegan at 95mph, don't go when the light turns green because they're drooling on their phones, make U-turns in the middle of intersections, honk at you the second the light turns green, honk in traffic even if the reason for the traffic is that someone's lying in a pool of their own blood, honk at everything, take forever to park, double-park wherever and bring traffic to a halt...

How this behavior affects me:

Pedestrians: Very little.  Sometimes I have to slow down or change direction slightly, which is effortless in a motor vehicle.

Cyclists: Very little, because if anything bike salmon are only annoying if you're also on a bike, and as often as cyclists run red lights I really don't notice it while I'm driving.  (Probably, you know, because they run the red lights when there are no cars coming.)  They should use lights though.

Other Drivers: I pull over in front of a church or house of worship (ironically one of the few places you're not allowed to park), drop to my knees, and pray for them all to die.

What this makes them:

Pedestrians: Mildly annoying at times.

Cyclists: Mildly annoying at times.

Other Drivers: Fucking assholes.

In conclusion, while we're all annoying at various times, it's only the drivers who are full-on assholes no matter how you're getting around--even if you too are driving.  In fact, they're even annoying if you're on the subway, where you think you'd be safe from their molestation, but you'd be wrong.  (And yes, I left out other road users such as motorcyclists, longboarders, Rollerbladers, Segway riders, ElliptiGO users, equestrians, and so forth, but I don't have all day, so here's a dollar and you know what you can do.)

Lastly, this Wall Street Journal report made me want to cry:

It's official, we have reached Peak Fred.

The Salmon Defense: Against the Current, Down the River

As you may have read elsewhere on the "World (except for Saudi Arabia, Burma, China, North Korea, Cuba, Egypt, Iran, Uzbekistan, Syria, Tunisia, Turkmenistan, and Vietnam) Wide Web" (or WEFSABCNKCEIUSTTVWW for short) by now, the Wall Street Journal has officially run out of legitimate news and was consequently forced to publish an article about my "identity." This marks a first for me, since while I often appear in the Journal it's usually because I've engineered yet another ruthless corporate takeover, so this was a refreshing change of pace. You can read the full article here, and it looks like this:

Besides revealing my actual name (which, incidentally, is "Ace" Brophy as many have speculated) the article also includes a salacious full frontal cockpit shot:

Seeing my painstakingly reconstructed cockpit in a widely read publication was a triumphant moment for me, coming mere weeks after the prior iteration of my cockpit was ruthlessly abducted on the mean streets of Greenwich Village and right in front of a public library. Also, I even got mentioned on the local news by the Canadian guy who reads the newspapers to us every morning (I believe in Canada this is what's called a "shout-oot"), though unfortunately he mispronounced my first name. (How you can mispronounce "Ace" I don't know, though I suppose the fact that he's Canadian might have something to do with it.)

Anyway, I want to thank Jason Gay for taking the time to write a kind article about me, the people quoted therein for taking the time to talk to him, and the Wall Street Journal for deigning to publish it. I also want to un-thank and revile the Wall Street Journal's rival newspaper, which got wind of the article just before publication and attempted to execute a last-minute "cockblocking" maneuver yesterday wherein they ran some half-assed piece of their own. Most of all, though, I want to thank everybody for reading so far, and for hopefully continuing to do so. Obviously, in a few days I will reinvent myself and switch the focus of this blog entirely to gardening, but until then I remain,

Very truly yours,

Moving on to far more important matters, while the mainstream media was busy "outing" some low-ranking member of the "doucherati," a high-ranking judge made a landmark legal decision that may very well negatively impact the world of cycling forever. So significant is this decision that it makes the whole New York City Critical Mass parade rule thing look about as important as the "Fixie Crew's" decision to buy cockles at Whole Foods. I am referring to a case that recently aired on the television show "Judge Judy" ("Judge Judy" is the Supreme Court of the eating-Cheetos-on-the-sofa-all-day set) in which a driver (the Plaintiff) is suing a cyclist (the Defendant) for running into his car:

As it happens, this video was actually forwarded to me by a friend of the Defendant, and I watched it with interest. Here's the Plaintiff, a 23 year-old named Justin Stern, who claims a cyclist hit his car and whose spectacles-and-no-tie ensemble marks him as a "doucherati" aspirant:

And here's the Defendent, the 20 year-old and mellifluously-named Clark Harney, decked out in formal beige for the occasion:

Anyway, at first it seems that this is going to be just another case, but then Harney does something that will soon change the world of cycling irrevocably: He blames the collision on the fact that he was forced to take evasive action when he encountered a "salmon" in the bike lane. Here is Harney's digital (that's "digital" as in finger-based) reenactment:

And here is the actual "salmon" that Harney is attempting to finger:

(Indignant salmon does not find Harney's fingering pleasurable)

To my knowledge, this is the first time that somebody has attempted to invoke the so-called "Salmon Defense" in such an auspicious venue, and such a defense is sort of like a CO2 inflator in that you'd better be sure everything is air-tight before you use it or else it's a total waste. Sadly, Harney's case is not air-tight, and the CO2 cartridge of his defense instead explodes in a burst of gas and careens wildly about the court. Here's Judge Judy gesticulating dismissively with her thumb:

Here's a nonplussed Harney, whose caption has been downgraded from "Bike Rider" to "Admits he couldn't see what was coming:"

And here's the salmon again, looking shifty, scheming, and untrustworthy like all her kind:

In the end, Judge Judy rules that Harney must pay Stern a whopping $1,900 to cover the repairs to his car, which prompts me to wonder what kind of damage a diminutive-looking fellow like Harney could have possibly inflicted on a big hunk of metal. It seems to me you'd have to be riding a Surly Pugsley (complete with handlebar-mounted battering ram) at Mark Cavendish-like speeds to break the $1,000 barrier, and I doubt very much that Harney can unleash a sprint anything close to that of the "Man Missile." But while I smell corruption (as well as a hint of salmon) I am more concerned about the fact that Harney has effectively squandered the "Salmon Defense." Had he argued his case more effectively and the judge ruled in his favor, a legal precedent would have been set and the rest of us could successfully blame everything on salmon too and they'd become our all-purpose legal scapegoats (or scapefish). Instead, thanks to Harney's hapless finger gestures, we now can't use the "Salmon Defense" at all. I guess we'll just have to blame everything on Rollerbladers now.

Meanwhile, no sooner had I recovered from this miscarriage of justice than I learned that scientists have discovered a new breed of human beings who can drive and talk on the phone simultaneously:

Apparently, these preternatural multitaskers are called "supertaskers," and they're real-life superheroes who can perform incredible acts of schmuckery like placing calls while driving and accepting calls while driving. Unfortunately, even though "supertaskers" only make up 2.5% of the population, the remaining 97.5% of the population will now also conclude that they are "supertaskers" and, like that guy with the yogurt franchises, continue to drive around endangering the rest of us. First, salmon are allowed to run with impunity; next, you get hit by some yogurt slinger on his cellphone who taps a bevy of "experts" to testify in court that he's a medically certified "supertasker" and that he was not responsible for crushing your hopes, dreams, and bones into so much walnut topping.

But there is still hope for cyclists, and fortunately, famously car-centric Los Angeles is continuing to become more bike-friendly. First, the LAPD Chief declared his commitment to protecting cyclists. Then, the city entered into the embarrassingly ebullient "demeaning yourself" phase of its cycling evolution by playing host to a "Tweed Ride," as forwarded to me by a reader:



If you're unfamiliar with the concept of the "Tweed Ride," it's basically when a bunch of people ride their bicycles around a city while dressed as Victorians. Here's one "Faketorian" drinking from a period-correct paper cup:

Here's another piloting what appears to be a Giant Revive:

His fellow "Faketorians" call him "Captain Anachronism."

So amid all this faux-gentility, one might be tempted to ask, "Whither street cred?" Well, here it is, and it can be yours, thanks to this Craigslist ad forwarded to me by another reader:

This bike is apparently all you need to be the "Fixie King:"


It's also got a lengthy, formidable, and borderline "epic" pedigree:

MAKE ME AN OFFER FIXIE KID.

IM FRICKIN OVER IT, BUDDY, AND SO NOW IS YOUR CHANCE. EVERYONE WANTS THIS BIKE AND IF THE MONEYS RIGHT ITS YOURS.
MY MESSENGER PALS HAVE OFFERED ME BIG BUCKS COUNTLESS TIMES FOR THIS THING AND IVE ALWAYS TURNED EM DOWN, BUT I NO LONGER GIVE A RATS ASS ABOUT TRACK BIKES.
SCORE FOR YOU, YOU TIGHT PANTS ELECTRO SHOW PBR CHUGGING GIRLS HAIRCUT COKE SNORTER.

THIS BIKE HAS BEEN RACED ALL OVER THIS FREAKIN PLANET AND WON MORE CRAP THAN I'LL EVER BE ABLE TO GET RID OF. IT BEAT THE FASTEST MESSENGER IN NEW YORK (THATS RIGHT ROOKIE, IM TALKIN ABOUT FELIPE. LEARN IT. LIVE IT. KNOW IT.) IN THE FOURTH OF JULY SPRINTS AND HE WAS ON ACID AND I WAS JUST DRUNK SO THERE YA GO, COOL GUY, ITS FAST.

RIDDEN IN THE WARRIORS RACE, NYC., WINNER, BEST COLORS.

RIDDEN IN HALLOWEEN ALLEYCAT THROWN BY SQUID, NYC. TOOK MUSHROOMS, PUKED. GOT PART OF MY COSTUME IN A QUEENS BOULEVARD HOOKERS' MOUTH.

RIDDEN IN KYOTOLOCO. WINNER, TRACKSTAND. WINNER, FREESTYLE, WINNER, FOOTDOWN. WINNER, BEST OUT OF TOWN.

RIDDEN NACC, HOUSTON, TX, 2ND PLACE, TRACKSTAND

RIDDEN IN GLASGOPOLOCO, GLASGOW SCOTLAND. WINNER, 1ST OUT OF TOWN. WINNER, FREESTYLE. WINNER, TRACKSTAND. WINNER, BEST OUT OF TOWNER. WINNER, FARTHEST TRAVELLED. WINNER, OVERALL POINTS.

RIDDEN TO THE BAR. ALL OF THEM.

NEVER EVER EVER EVER RIDDEN IN CRITICAL MASS.

KHS AERO TRACK ALUMINUM TRACK RACING FRAME 57CM AND FITS LIKE A 54- 55 (SLOPED TOP TUBE, GENIUS. IT'LL FIT ANYONE WHO CAN RIDE A 53 TO A 59.),IN ORIGINAL RED COLORWAY WITH ORIGINAL LOGOS AND ACTUAL BIKE MESSENGER STICKERS PLACED LONG AGO BY AN ACTUAL WORKING WORLD TRAVELING ALLEY CATTING RACING MULTIPLE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS AND NACC ATTENDING 6 YEAR VETERAN SF BIKE MESSENGER,
ULTEGRA HEADSET BECAUSE IT CAN STAND THE ABUSE, SMART GUY. YOUY CAN RE-TUNE YOUR VINTAGE C-RECORD ONE EVERY DAY OR RUN THIS ONE AND NEVER TOUCH IT. AND ITS LIGHTER SO YOUR ARMS CAN LIFT IT, SINCE YOUVE NEVER WORKED A DAY IN YOUR LIFE AND YOU HAVE A HANGOVER.
CAMPAGNOLO 165 MM BMX CRANKS FILED TO PREVENT BREAKAGE BY A REAL ACTUAL GENUINE BONA FIDE WORKING NON ROOKIE O.G. VETERAN SAN FRANCISCO BIKE MESSENGER (NOT JUST DRESSED LIKE ONE) SO THEY WILL NOT BREAK NO MATTER HOW HOT YOU GET TRYING TO IMPRESS THAT FIXIE CHICK IN YOUR ROOMMATES FRIGGIN ALLEY CAT.
BRIGESTONE KEIRIN FORK, GREY COLORWAY, RACED ON THE KEIRIN TRACK, PURCHASED AT BRIDGESTONE KEIRIN FRAME FACTORY, KYOTO, JAPAN.
CAMPAGNOLO SEALED CARTRIDGE BOTTOM BRACKET. ONCE AGAIN, YOU CAN JACK WITH YOUR C-RECORD ONE EVERY TIME YOU WANT TO RIDE, OR RUN THIS ONE AT A WEIGHT INCREASE OF 6 GRAMS AND NEVER HAVE TO TOUCH IT AGAIN. YOUR CHOICE, BIKE EXPERT.
GOLD KEIRIN CHAIN. BLING FRIGGIN BLING.
UNOBTANIUM SEAT POST COLLAR. PHYSICALLY LIGHTER THAN AIR. ACTUALLY REDUCES WEIGHT OF BIKE BY 3 GRAMS.

THIS THING IS SET UP HOW A REAL MESSENGER SET IT UP. I KNOW BECAUSE IM THE ONE THAT BUILT IT, NOT VALENCIA CYCLERY, AND NOT CAUSE I HANDED EM 5 GRAND OF DADDYS MONEY AND SAID MAKE ME LOOK COOL.
AND SO NOW YOU CAN TAKE THAT MONEY THAT YOUR DADDY GAVE YOU FOR ART COLLEGE TUITION AND BUY THE BIKE THAT IS GUARANTEED TO GET YOU UNPROTECTED SEX IN THE BATHROOM AT THAT FIXIE HIPSTER BAR ON 16TH.

I GOT WHEELS AND TIRES AND SEATS AND SEATPOSTS AND PEDALS AND STEMS AND BARS AND ALL THAT OTHER CRAP LAYING AROUND SO IF THE MONEYS RIGHT I'LL LET YOU SET THIS THING UP AND I'LL EVEN ASSEMBLE IT FOR YOU SINCE YOUVE NEVER TOUCHED A WRENCH IN YOUR LIFE. CAMPY CAMPY CAMPY. ALL THAT CRAP IS PHIL WOOD AND KEIRIN AND CAMPY AND IT'LL GET YOU NOTICED ON VALENCIA.

SO THATS IT. YOU FIGURE OUT HOW MUCH YOU WANT THIS THING, ADD TWO ZEROS TO THE END OF THAT TO GET CLOSER TO REALITY AND EMAIL ME.

WILL SHIP.

KEYWORDS: TRACK, FIXIE, FIXED GEAR, COKE PROBLEM, ELECTRO, MOPED, VALENCIA, CAMPAGNOLO, PHIL WOOD, PABST BLUE RIBBON, HAMMS, TECATE, POPS BAR, DELIRIUM, BENDERS', ZEITGEIST, THE PHONE BOOTH, THE MAKE OUT ROOM, PERIOD BLOOD, JAY REATARD, MESSENGER, FAKENGER, POSER, ART SCHOOL, FREIGHT BAGGAGE, TIMBUKTU, SINGLE SPEED, CHOPPER, BOBBER, NIKE, REEBOK, PASTEL, ALL OVER PRINT, HIP HOP, HUF, UPPER PLAYGROUND, RETRO, TIGHT PANTS, TRANSVESTITE, ANTI HERO, ALEY CAT, MESSENGER, BIKE RACE, BICYCLE, WICKED RAD, AWESOME, SICK, HOT, SWEET, SEXY, TITS, BUTT LUBE

Not only will this bicycle make you the "Fixie King," but it will also give you at least three STDs. You might be better off sticking with Walmart.

The Indignity of Commuting by Bicycle: The Increasing Dignity of Commuting by Bicycle

("No More Corporate Bullshit! Fuk Wall St." That oughta show 'em.)

A voice of the youth one sang that "The Times They Are a-Changin'." That voice was of course the Insane Clown Posse, and the words are as true today as they were when they were first rapped poorly back in 1994. They're especially true for cyclists, as we've seen more than our share of changes over the years. Steel gave way to aluminum, which in turn surrendered to crabon. Eyewear shrank considerably. And the bicycle saddle as we know it has been completely redesigned and as such rendered totally irrelevant.

But cycling technology isn't the only thing that's changing. Cycling is changing the urban landscape as well. A reader was recently kind enough to send me some photos of the new bike racks that have been appearing in downtown Manhattan:



I'm pleased that New York City has been taking these steps towards increasing bike-friendliness. And we're not alone here, either. Other cities, such as Boston, appear to be doing so as well. Still, I can't help but feel that in this case the city is trying a little too hard. If I were to come across this and there were no bicycles locked to it I would honestly have no idea what to do with it. I'd probably just assume some geek had parked his "Star Wars" Landspeeder replica on the sidewalk.

I suppose it's somewhat hypocritical of me to criticize this structure. After all, I constantly complain about the indignities to which I'm subjected as a New York City cyclist. Shouldn't I be pleased that the city is not only adding bike parking, but that they're also incorporating benches where people can sit down while they change from their cycling shoes to their street shoes like Mr. Rogers and neatly stow their locks, helmets and outer garments inside their hand-sewn cycling bags while they make friendly chit-chat with each-other? I don't know. What's wrong with a bunch of these? Being coddled like this makes me feel unsettled. It's the bicycle equivalent of installing coffee machines next to all the car parking spaces.

Also, I worry that maybe all of this bike-friendly stuff is happening a little too late. It was only relatively recently that the city could actually build structures like this, since before "gentrification" people would have just moved into this thing. In the age of the $1,000 Bushwick studio it may seem hard to believe, but trust me--with the simple addition of a tarp that bike rack could easily sleep four adults. ITTET it's only a matter of time before people are once again forced to take to the streets, and we may have finally gotten our luxury bike parking only to have it swiftly commandeered by homeless investment bankers.

Yes, the fact is you can't account for everything. Take these protected bike lanes the city is now building:



I'm a bike lane fan. As I've said before, I'm happy to ride anywhere on the street, but the bike lane is my "comfy chair" and as such I like that they're there. So when the protected bike lanes started appearing, I was pleased to see them. But then I tried them out. First of all, the bike lane itself also incorporates the left-hand turn lane for motor vehicle traffic. This means that, instead of just going around traffic that's waiting to turn left as you would on an old-fashioned street, you've got to wait at your very own bicycle-specific red light. Sure, it's not a big deal if you're not in a hurry, and it's probably a good thing for people who are uncomfortable riding in traffic and need traffic signals to tell them what to do, but it is a bit frustrating nonetheless.

More irritating though are the factors they almost certainly didn't account for when they designed these lanes, such as bike salmon. I have noticed a significant uptick in the number of bike salmon in these lanes, and it's clearly because they feel much more comfortable salmoning without the presence of cars. In that sense, I suppose the cars were bears, and now that the salmon's natural enemy is gone the salmon population is exploding. And I like bikes, but I do not want to live in a world of salmon. Moreover, it's one thing to encounter a salmon on an old-fashioned street; it's quite another when you're trapped with them in a lane that's only about ten feet wide.

The other thing they clearly didn't account for is that non-cyclists would also annex these protected bike lanes. It's like the sidewalk is the 19th century United States, the new bike lane is the western frontier, and suddenly all the pedestrians have been smitten by Manifest Destiny. However, instead of saddling up their horses they're leashing up their dogs. Here's a typical sight along the Trail of Terriers:



So when it comes to bike-friendliness, we're seeing overwrought bike parking and bewildering lanes, but we're not seeing any financial benefits--at least not yet. A reader forwarded me this article, which indicates that we've still got a ways to go in that department:



I suspect that perhaps tax incentives for bike commuters could be something else that sounds good in theory but in practice results in a bunch of unforeseen side-effects. For example, people seem to be complaining that you can only get a rebate of $20 a month for commuting by bike. But let's just say the government reimbursed you for your bike-related costs proportionally to your actual spending, provided you commuted by bike. Sounds great, doesn't it? But what about people like Bart Kaufman, owner of the World's Greatest Madone? That's about $10,000 right there. And once you factor in bike shop labor and clothing and new tubular tires every time he punctures it's not hard to imagine that annual figure ballooning into six figures. It would only take a few Bart Kaufmans to cost the government millions of dollars. And who's going to pay for that loss of revenue? Before you know it we'll all be living in bike racks alongside our Madones. Maybe David Byrne can design us some bike racks with plumbing.

By the way, if you're getting $20 this month for commuting by bicycle, be sure to spend it on some Total Polo Laboratories mallet plugs:




I'm not much of a bike polo fan (I prefer bike lacrosse) but my understanding of the "sport" was that people made their own stuff, used beater bikes, and generally did it on the cheap. Clearly, though, that understanding was wrong, and it is now entering the "purchasing advantages" phase. And it doesn't stop there. Once you've installed your lathe-turned high-density polyethylene mallet plugs, be sure to have your favorite wheelbuilder lace you up a pair of Velocity Chukkers:


While I've been critical of both fixed-gear freestyling and bike polo in the past, I have to admit that they've progressed a great deal in the last couple of years. Of course, I don't mean "progressed" in the sense that they've become more interesting; I mean "progressed" in the sense that you can buy increasing amounts of stuff in order to do them. I wonder if these rims would also be good for bike lacrosse; after all, it's a "Velocity Deep V on steroids," and bike lacrosse is bike polo on steroids. (Though it should not be confused with regular polo, which is like bike polo on steroids and horses.)

Still, it was inevitable that Velocity would introduce a new Deep V. Clearly people are demanding stronger rims, and there's certainly nothing wrong with satisfying that demand. Furthermore, Velocity's urban fixed-gear market supremacy was being challenged by H+Son and their own idiotic deep-section rim:




Be the new kid on the block throwing down the hottest S#@& all year. You may have seen these H Plus Son rims spring up on places like Tokyo fixed the last couple months, but now they're here rocking the states! Unlike anything else out there, the H + Son Formation Face rim has a true V shaped wall and absolutely no provisions for running a brake. The side of the rim has a completely even surface. It looks like a wall. Oh, and it's 42mm deep. Deep V's are a comparatively diminutive 30mm. Lastly, they're substantially lighter than their Velocity counterpart.

Priced individually
Not Compatible with brakes, so man up!
700c and 650c available 32 hole non machined only
black (anodized), silver (anodized), gold (anodized), white (powder coated)

At first, I wasn't convinced, but between their promise that I can be the "new kid on the block throwing down the hottest S#@& all year" and their admonition to "man up" it's clear that I need to get a pair (and grow a pair, apparently)--though I am somewhat reluctant to take "manning up" advice from a website that is afraid to spell out the word "shit."

And while the times may be a-changin', they're also staying the same. The fact is people were wrecking wheels playing bike polo out in the Rockaways way back in 1902:



One can only imagine how differently things might have turned out if the polo players of yesteryear had had access to the Velocity Chukker.



Then again, perhaps it's a good thing they didn't.

Smoked Salmon: Lock Your Bike, Don't Lox It

Since yesterday's PSA was a resounding success (despite the fact that even I went "commando" today in the fender department) I've decided to create another one. Unlike fender use, which is really something that doesn't affect other cyclists unless they're riding right behind you, this new PSA targets a group of riders who are a menace to us all. I am referring of course to those directionally-challenged irritants known as "bike salmon." Hopefully this will help them understand that they've got it all backwards:

As you can see, this is sort of a twin-pronged PSA in that it addresses both bike salmoning and personal hygiene, and it's designed to help clean up both our city's streets and our city's crotches.

In the meantime, though, salmoning is rampant. (On the streets, that is. That should not be construed as a crotchal reference.) Just this morning in fact I had a salmon encounter that incorporated so many infuriating elements I might have very well attempted to flog myself to death with my own fenders had I been palping them:


Please note the following elements (from left to right):

--Self-important person blithely texting in bike lane;
--Self-important person's German luxury car with Jersey plates also in the bike lane;
--Trek Madone (with aerobars!) on the roof of German luxury car with Jersey plates;
--Approaching bike salmon in sport jacket.

Ordinarily, any one of these elements by themselves would be annoying enough. When taken all together though it's nothing less than a perfect storm of stupidity; a clustercoital nightmare; a moronic morass so sticky and deep it simultaneously makes me doubt the existence of a God that would allow this to happen yet convinces me that God indeed exists though he lives only to pester me.

Nonetheless, like a cyclocross rider on a muddy course, I resolved to simply power through it. Claiming my rightful line, I forced the salmon to take evasive action, and also managed to get a shot of his soft underbelly as I passed:


Note the headphones. I wonder if he also listens to his music backwards and with his earbuds reversed. Either that, or perhaps there are backwards messages hidden in his Clap Your Hands Say Yeah or whatever other neutered "indie" rock band he may be listening to which are commanding him to ride counter to traffic. In any case, I was pleased to find after developing the photograph and emerging from the darkroom that I did at least force him to grab a fistful (or at least a pinkieful) of brake. And fortunately for him, he survived the encounter, and I'm sure he made it safely to work where he annoyed his colleagues by flushing the toilet before using it and not after, or whatever else it is bike salmon do with the rest of their days.

Apparently, though, not every New York City bike commuter's trip is fraught with tribulation. A reader recently forwarded this video of another New Yorker's commute, which is in marked contrast to my own experiences:


I'd be very interested in knowing what kind of job this person has, since his (or her) commute seems to consist entirely of looking at pretty things. Is he an LSD tester? Does he work as a professional gnome, running around Central Park in a pointy hat and amusing tourists? Maybe he's some kind of poet laureate and he's going to sit on a bench and write some treacly crap about the guy with the saxophone. He should try actually riding in the street and dealing with ugly crap like the rest of us. Then he could ditch the poetry gig and start writing death metal lyrics.

Here's another bike commute (this one from Raleigh, NC) forwarded to me by another reader:


That's a pretty busy cockpit he's got there--I'm not sure I'd be able to find the time to use all that stuff in 3.6 miles. I suppose I'd be able to switch on the light, and maybe I'd manage to ring the bell once or twice if I were to go out of my way to do so, but there's no way I'd get around to scrolling through any of the functions on the computer. Then again, the streets of New York are busier than the streets of Raleigh, so it could just be that handlebar clutter varies inversely with population density. Take London for instance. That's a very busy city, and people there don't put anything on their bars at all:



But while the handlebars may be bare, there's no shortage of leather elsewhere on the bike. Those massive toe straps look like western stirrups, and the bars look like the bike is flexing its "guns." Maybe the leather bands on the frame are supposed to be weightlifting belts. It's the Hans & Franz of fixed-gears:


I wonder if the rider looks like Patrick Swayze.

But if the bike above is a power lifter, this white bike with its dainty riser bars and "Bike Love" message is decidedly more diminutive:


It makes me think of a lemur doing a pirouette:


Yes, New York City is filled with pirouetting lemurs. Rumor has it that they defected from the Bolshoi in the 1960s, escaped the Soviet Union in a shipment of Volga engine parts, and eventually made their way to the USA. Of course, since New York is now rife with agile lemurs, it's a very bad idea to leave your helmet outside with your bike, since you could return to find one of them sleeping in it:


There was no lemur in this helmet (believe me, I checked) though I must say that this is awful helmet placement. Helmets tend to smell of their owners, and dogs love smelling things that smell like people. And anybody who's watched a dog knows that once they've finished smelling something they urinate on it. Furthermore, as I've said before, anybody who's watched anybody walking a dog in New York City knows that people let their precious dogs urinate on absolutely anything. I see dogs urinate on bicycles all the time. The only explanation I can possibly come up with is that the person is actively trying to collect canine urine samples. Maybe he works for the UCI.

But if the emails I've been receiving lately are any indication, there's no place stranger than Sweden. First of all, people there are riding sex swings:

According to the website, the Pedersen bike is "designed as a series of triangles" to "obtain the maximum amount of lateral rigidity." Furthermore, the "hammock-saddle" gives "a comfortable ride, which is to the advantage of people with back trouble." Now that's what I call "laterally stiff and vertically compliant"--there's nothing more vertically compliant than a hammock. Still, I don't buy the "back trouble" thing. That sounds too much like an excuse someone might give for having a vibrator. If you're going to rub a bike with a "banana hammock," at least be up front about it.

But while a "ride" on a Pedersen might put a glide in your stride and a dip in your hip, there are other bikes in Sweden that will lock up your strut instead of loosening it up:


Oh yeah. That's not going anywhere.

And neither is this:

Now that's a safe way to commute by bike. I wonder what the bike salmon in Sweden do, though. Maybe they just pedal backwards.