Barefoot in the Park: Keeping Up Appearances

It is not always easy to make sense of people's behavior at first glance--in fact, thanks to technology, it's getting more difficult every day. For example, it used to be that when you saw somebody walking down the street, gesticulating wildly, and talking loudly to nobody, you could safely conclude that he was insane. Now, however, he can just as easily be an executive wearing a hands-free headset and making a multi-million dollar business deal. (And even then, the "Businessman or Lunatic?" distinction is still not clear-cut, since ITTET it's increasingly obvious that many of our nation's businesspeople are lunatics.) Similarly, as people practice more and varied forms of physical recreation, it can be almost impossible to distinguish exercise from a complete psychological breakdown. Consider this man I saw recently running in Brooklyn's Prospect Park:

At first glance, he appears to be running (or jogging--as far as I can tell, "running" is to "cycling" as "jogging" is to "biking"), though upon closer inspection he's not only shirtless but shoeless. This could mean that he's joined the many people turning to barefoot running. Then again, I would think that you'd have to be pretty serious about running to do it barefoot (especially in Brooklyn, where you're liable to tread upon any number of infectious sharp implements), and that you'd probably have lost your "love handles" long before deciding to shed your New Balances. In any case, you'd almost certainly forego the wool cabbie hat. Therefore, after my initial "runner" prognosis, I ultimately decided that he had been caught in flagrante delicto with another man's spouse and was engaged in the "half-marathon of shame."

Of course, as a person who rarely runs unless chased (and even then only reluctantly), I'm not really qualified to draw any conclusions about people's barefoot perambulations. Similarly, certain writers should probably not be passing judgement on cyclists, as in this article forwarded to me by a number of readers:

I can certainly get behind the writer's main point, which is that people often make wildly impractical bicycle choices. However, like so many people before him with minimal cycling knowledge, he unfortunately veers off into an anti-Lycra diatribe:

While on the bike, he wears near-transparent Lycra, especially if he is slightly overweight and prone to sweating from the buttock cleft. As a rule, I have no time for Jeremy Clarkson, but he is right about the risibility of this rig-out. He once conducted an experiment on Top Gear that established that skin-tight Lycra gives a speed advantage of 0.0001 per cent compared with a man cycling in a three-piece tweed suit with a pipe in his mouth.

I'm not sure why Lycra gets some people so upset, though I suspect it's because they simply don't understand it. First of all, people don't wear Lycra because it's "faster;" they wear it because it's vastly more comfortable on long rides. Obviously it's silly to get "kitted up" and mount a road bike to ride a few miles to the store, but if the writer were to don a three-piece suit on a warm summer day, take an 85-mile ride, and then examine his crotch he'd have a far greater grasp on the subject of "proper cycling attire." I wonder if he's similarly vexed when he sees scuba divers also foregoing tweed in favor of wetsuits. He even undermines his own argument when he mentions that people who wear Lycra are "prone to sweating from the buttock cleft." Clearly, if you're going to be spending the day sweating from the ass and you don't fancy a case of adult diaper rash, you're far better off wearing Lycra than tweed. By the way, "Prospect" is apparently "the most intelligent current affairs and cultural debate magazine in Britain," despite the fact that its contributors are apparently unable to discern recreation from commuting and are baffled by the simple concept of crotchal hygiene.

Speaking of competitive cycling, the Giro d'Italia (which is Italian for the "Giro of Italy") began on Saturday, and I would be remiss if I did not mention that I am writing a short daily Giro-themed blog for the Universal Sports website, which you can find in the "Giro insider blog" section. While I am not exactly a Giro insider (unless you consider watching the Giro on Universal being "on the inside"), I'm also no stranger to competitive cycling. This is because I live and ride in New York City, where every intersection is the start of another match sprint. In particular, I am noticing that as the "fixerati" continue to "come into their own," they've grown increasingly fond of the extremely irritating phrase "on your left." I really should not have to hear these words if I am simply riding in a straight line and going about my business on my bicycle in the same way that I should not have to hear them when another gentleman sidles up next to me in a public restroom in order to use the neighboring urinal. In both cases, he's got his space, I've got mine, and as long as we stick to that space nobody's going to cross wheels or streams.

Still, there I was, riding as straight as a well-hydrated marksman's urine stream, when I heard those annoying words and a fixed-gear rider darted in front of me. Apparently, he was in a big hurry to get to the red light before I did. At the intersection, I stopped, sat jauntily on my top tube, and admired the passing wardrobes of spring, while the person who had been "on my left" rode as far into traffic as possible and froze himself into a trackstand like a pointer who's spotted a duck:

Unfortunately, though, the rider lacked the pointer's poise, and he botched the trackstand due to a combination of his own lack of skill and some sort of mishap with his toe clip:


He continued to wrestle with this complex piece of engineering for some time:

Indeed, he was still attempting to tie his sneaker to his pedal when the light changed, and by the time he finished I was well on my way. Unfortunately, bicycle commuting in New York City is increasingly a tedious process of being cut off by other cyclists and then having to wait behind them while they either practice their trackstands or simply attempt to figure out their own bicycles.

Speaking of figuring out bicycles, a reader in San Francisco recently sent this tantalizingly short video clip of a very mysterious bicycle indeed:



Spotted in the Mission District, the rider is wearing a hardhat and an old-timey mustache and riding a bicycle that places him atop the handlebars. Apparently he refused to share any details about the bike, opting instead to simply regard the camera with a nonplussed expression.

Meanwhile, another reader has sent me a compelling Craigslist ad for a "vintage" Colnago:

1977 Vintage Colnago Super, Campagnolo Super Record, 53cm - $1500 (greenpoint)

Date: 2010-05-09, 10:08PM EDT

Reply to: [deleted]

Original paint/decals. EXCELLENT CONDITION. 1977 Colnago Super, 53cm squared. Columbus SL, Campagnolo dropouts, full Campagnolo Super Record (excellent condition) components. Cinelli 1A 90mm stem (old logo), Cinelli Giro D'Italia bars, Cinelli cork tape. Tan Binda straps with Colango buttons. SADDLE AND TIRES NOT INCLUDED. 1,500

In this case, it's not the bicycle itself that is remarkable; rather, it's the disembodied hand in the photo:

The disembodied hand has become a mainstay of amateur bicycle portraiture. However, whereas the hand is usually real and engaged in holding the bicycle upright, in this case it's simply rendered in oil and looming menacingly in the background:

I'm not sure to whom the hand belongs, but I have my suspicions:

While some people get very excited about old Italian road bikes, I am not one of them. For me, the phrase "vintage Campy" simply evokes old John Waters films, and whether it's bike parts or movies I find both of them quirky and uninteresting. Then again, if you take a "retro" bike to Staten Island things could get exciting:



who is that guy... - w4m - 39 (Great Kills)
Date: 2010-05-08, 2:55PM EDT

on the retro silver bike in Gateway? I would like to shove my tits in his face, 69 him, and ride him while he pumps away inside me. Does he like middle aged women?

It sounds like the basis for a John Waters remake of "Breaking Away."

Fortunately, if you're looking to get pounced upon but you don't have $1,500 to spend on a Colnago, you could always pick up this vintage "Jewish" bike, which was also forwarded to me by a number of readers:




Having tested an Israeli bicycle before, I was fascinated to learn that the Jews, despite their bike lane-hating ways, have indeed long been at the forefront of road bike technology. As you can see, they even pioneered the gimmicky wavy fork technology you now find on Pinarellos:
Theoretically, the purpose of the design is to absorb road chatter--or what Samson engineers used to call "kibbitzing."

Of course, closer inspection reveals that the fender eyelets are actually at the front of the fork:

Obviously this bicycle is equipped with Reversible Fork Technology (or RFT)--in the event of a front-end collision, simply flip your fork around to correct the geometry.