Boared to Death: And The Cockie Goes To...

During the work week, commuting by bicycle in Manhattan is fraught with frustrations and obstacles.  Gridlock, dead bodies, and people from New Jersey are just a few of the maddening things that will impede your progress.  Also, thanks to a collaboration between the DOT and the DEP, every third Thursday we now have something called "Puma Streets," in which thousands of live pumas are released into the urban environment.  Once freed, they tend to pounce from lampposts onto the heads of the unsuspecting.  There you are, emerging from a deli with a cup of hot coffee, and the next thing you know you've got a large cat of prey clinging tenaciously to your scalp.

Of course, by late Friday afternoon they've usually got most of the pumas rounded up and gassed, but that doesn't mean weekends don't bring their own problems for the bicycle commuter.  For example, large portions of the avenues are often closed for street fairs:

New York City is one of the greatest cities in the world, and apart from a soda larger than 16 ounces or a decent burrito you can purchase anything you could possibly imagine here at pretty much any time of the day or night.  Pick any city our country in the world, and if you can't actually visit it there's probably a neighborhood in New York City that's the next-best thing and only a bike or subway ride away.  Nevertheless, the city persists in closing random streets at random times and snarling traffic so that people can sell you gyros and bootleg Yankees caps.  I'm not sure why this is, since it seems like closing a three-star restaurant so you can host a pop-up McDonald's in it, but I just assume it has something to do with the mafia.

Then, once you've circumvented the street fairs, you're bound to get trapped in some kind of charity activity, which is what happened to me when the breast cancer walk took over my bike lane:

Moments after I took this photo the straggler was pounced upon my an errant puma, but I successfully scared it off of her by applying shorts blasts of air to its face with my mini pump.

Yesterday also saw the running of the Bike MS ride, and while I certainly respect the cause I also knew the area roadie corridors would be even more congested than usual, so once again I sought refuge in the wilderness.  It's now been over a year since I've taken delivery of my Engin all-terrain style bicycle, and every ride on it makes me happy that I did:

In fact, the bike makes me so ridiculously happy that it's the only all-terrain style bicycle I've been riding since I got it, and so yesterday I decided to ride my other bike with the clicky gears and the bouncy fork instead:

It's a lot of fun getting on a shifty bouncy bike after spending a lot of time on a non-shifty bumpy bike.  Then again, it's also a lot of fun to ride a non-shifty bumpy bike after spending a lot of time on a shifty bouncy bike.  It's like when you eat some salty delicious chips, and that makes you want some ice cream, and then the ice cream makes you want the chips again, so you go back and forth and back and forth and get stuck in a salty/sweet feedback loop.  Then, you wake up four hours later, shirtless and with your face stuck to the sofa cushions.

Don't act like it hasn't happened to you too.

Speaking of feedback, on Friday I posted this cockpit contest submission:

Which I like very much because: 1) it's refreshingly simple; and A) it reminds me of a wild boar:

Before the whole "Puma Streets" thing they used to release wild boars into the subway stations.  The trick was to get them to charge at you and then step away at the last second so they'd either get run over by an approaching train or else get electrocuted on the third rail.  I can still remember that burnt-hair-and-bacon smell when someone managed to pull off the latter scenario.  Mmm, delicious.

Anyway, in addition to posting the picture I included a poll:

Apparently, 1,035 people think the wild boarpit shouldn't win.  However, one person does think I should "just pick a fucking winner already:"

At first I was insulted, but then I realized that "sh3rp4" was absolutely correct, and that I could conceivably wind up sitting on this contest for months or even years.  Therefore, I am picking a winner, and here it is:

I sincerely apologize to the 78% of people who disagree with my choice, but I secretly enjoy being contrary, and also this is what happens in an electoral college system.  Congratulations to the winner, and I will be in touch sometime in the coming months or years to arrange delivery of your Knog prizeways.  (You will be getting Knog Blinder USB-rechargeable lights, which I love, but which are bright enough to blow your face off, so always wear sunglasses while handling.)

Moving on, UCI president Pat McQuaid says "Lance Armstrong has no place in cycling:"

However he was careful to emphasize that this shouldn't deter future cyclists from giving the UCI huge amounts of money:

McQuaid was defiant over questions regarding assertions by Floyd Landis and others that the UCI had accepted a $100,000 donation from Armstrong in 2002 in exchange for concealing a positive drugs test at the 2001 Tour de Suisse.

“There is no connection between the donation to the UCI and a test covered up, because there was no test to cover up,” said McQuaid, who added that the federation would accept donations from athletes in the future. “We would accept it differently and announce it differently than we did before.” 

In other words, the UCI doesn't shit where it eats.  Rather, it finishes eating, lets someone else pick up the check, and then leaves a great big steamer for a tip.

And with that, the sport of cycling is now totally clean.  Nicely done, everybody.

Also, you know what has absolutely nothing to do with doping and professional cycling?  Cyclists who are injured or killed by motorists.  Nevertheless, for some reason the New Yorker decided this was a suitable illustration for an ostensibly humorous piece about the whole Armstrong debacle:

See that?  The guy on the bike's getting mauled by a car!  Hilarious.  Ah, cyclists.  So vulnerable.  So hapless.  I love urbane humor.

Meanwhile, you may recall that some time ago I mentioned Stradalli, the bicycle company with the most cumbersome URL in the industry:

And the company who uses models like this:

To sell crabon bikes to people like this:

Well, a reader informs me that they've offered Lance Armstrong a job:

Armstrong has been influential in the adoption and development of carbon race frames, as well as other components and accessories. He has changed modern cycling and today many of his design contributions are part of the racing norm. Stradalli Cycle has made an official job offer to Lance Armstrong for an undisclosed amount. His response is not yet known.

Of all that's happened over the past few weeks somehow this is the one that really drives things home.  Getting a job offer from Stradalli after you've lost all your sponsors and wins is like getting a $50 gift certificate to Bed Bath & Beyond after the bank has foreclosed on your house.

Lastly, moving on to the happier world of romantic comedy, Hugh Grant has apparently moved to Portland:

Ballet, bell helmets, bicycles, bridges - m4w - 34 (SE Hawthorne - Bagdad Theater)
Date: 2012-10-16, 9:29PM PDT

You: beautiful blonde bicyclist outside the Bagdad theater. Great smile and sense of humor, with a keen sense of direction. Me: brown hair, black bike, befuddled. I (sincerely) asked you for directions to a good bike route heading west from the Bagdad Theater after OMSI Science Pub: The Physics of Ballet. You may have thought it was the lamest pick-up attempt ever, which it was, because I didn't realize I was picking up on you at the time. During our chat you noticed we had the same Bell helmet. "Twins!" I said, because I'm selectively clever. When I proceeded to follow your directions, you soon caught up with me, and I jokingly called you a stalker. You pointed out that I'm the one that started the conversation with you. Then you had to go south while I continued west. Well, I'd like to continue our conversation, even though I'm clearly a bit daft and need directions on how to flirt and be flirted with, as well as to the nearest bike route. I can always use another reason to peddle across the Hawthorne bridge. Let's add some trips to that bike counter that was recently installed. 

I'm pretty sure that in Portland misspelling "pedal" as "peddle" can get you banished to Washington state.

It's Wednesday. Go Ahead and Take the Day Off, Tell Whoever I Said It Was OK.

Last yesterday night I half-paid semi-attention to the Presidential debate.  As usual, both candidates totally sidestepped the issues that are most important to the American people, and incredibly neither one made a single mention of the USADA's reasoned decision.  Instead it was all oil and taxes and jobs and blahblahblah.  Sure, their brief exchange on the relative merits of SRAM, Campagnolo, and Shimano was a welcome detour into relevance, but other than that it was all just a giant smokescreen.

Meanwhile, the sporting world continues to demand a confession from Lance Armstrong--but now they're playing the "hard ball" by threatening his Olympic bronze:

Nooo!!!  Not the bronze!  Somehow I don't think this is going to do it.  "Sure, you can have all seven of my Tour de France wins, but please, please, PLEASE, not my second loser prize!"  That would be like withstanding a solid week of interrogation with a car battery attached to your scranus and then finally confessing when they threaten to put a Band-Aid on your arm hair and pull it off slowly.

Also, in Portland adjacent, protesters are calling for Nike to drop Lance Armstrong as a spokesman:*

Right, sure.  The only way Nike will drop you as a spokesman is if you kill a bunch of dogs, and then they'll only do it temporarily.  Maybe if someone exposed Lance Armstrong as the head of a Texas cockfighting ring they'd let him go for a couple months, but other than that I don't see it happening.  Really, expecting integrity from Nike makes expecting integrity from the sport of professional cycling seem sensible in comparison.  Then again, Nike have made some important contributions over the years, such as:

--Paying Spike Lee and Michael Jordan to market the "Air Jordan," the first sneaker that could get a teenager shot in the face;
--Employing thousands of young children all over the world;
--Pioneering various innovative corporate motivational techniques and incentive programs:

Now this is how you make a quality product:

Workers at the Sukabumi plant, about 60 miles from Jakarta, say supervisors frequently throw shoes at them, slap them in the face, kick them and call them dogs and pigs.

Who the hell is the supervisor at that factory, El Guapo from "The Three Amigos?"  I don't know about you, but it puts a real spring in my step knowing that my sneaker might have been used to whack someone in the face.  Of course, to Westerners it may sound like these factory workers are complaining, but the truth is they're actually happy, since things are a lot worse down the street at the clothes iron factory.  (You certainly don't want to get clocked with one of those.)  Also, the highlight of any Nike factory worker's year is when the company flies their celebrity athletes to the factory and allow them to beat the workers personally.  (In the shoe industry, this is called the "Nike Holiday Bonus.")  Nothing gives you pride in your work like taking a golf cleat to the face from Tiger Woods.

But yeah, they really need to stop sponsoring the naughty bike racer.

*Well holee crap, I was wrong on that one!  That'll teach me to post early.

Speaking of competition and ruthlessness, you might recall I was running a cockpit contest, because I certainly don't.  I do realize I've been somewhat organic ("organic" means "lazy") in "curating" this contest, but do I feel a winner coming on soon (either that or I need to go to the bathroom), and one contender who has made his way to the front of the pack is esteemed commenter "Daddo One:"

I'd criticize him for not getting closer to the specimen, but I can't because: a) I'm a worse photographer than he'll ever be; and 2) I'd be scared of that thing too.

Also, while not technically a cockpit contest submission, another reader has forwarded me this:

I'm fairly certain that fairing isn't UCI legal.

Oh, hey, remember when I was talking about getting nailed in the face with a shoe?  Well, would you rather take a shot from one with a clit or one without a clit?

(Via another reader.)

Bike for sale - $140 (Gunbarrel)
Date: 2012-10-16, 5:13PM MDT

I'm selling a used bike in good conditions. No suspension. Has a small rack in the back. 140$

I'm also selling 2 pair of bike shoes for women(clits are not included).
One pair is brand new, never have been used, Goretek (size 6 US). Price 90$
The other pair are also Shimano, have been used 4 times. perfect conditions (size 6.5 US). Price 90$
If you're interested in any of these items send me an email or text/call me 720-442-[deleted]
Thanks!
Maria

Also, you know who has trouble operating a clit?  Triathletes.  That's why they need to wear special shoes like this, as forwarded by yet another reader:

$400 buys you a tridork flipper with some kind of special retractable heel retainer:

Raise high the drawbridge, tridorks!  It's time to transition!  After all, you don't want this happening to you:

Obviously if he'd had shoes with a special heel drawbridge he would have "breezed through that transition" and this never would have happened:

At least he was wearing his helment--though he really should have been wearing sneakers and using flat pedals.

Public Service Harassment: Help Us Help You Get Run Over

In the world of competitive cycling, there is obviously glory in being at the front of the pack, and there's also a certain dignity in being the lanterne rouge (mostly because you get to be smug about not doping).  The middle of the pack is where all the indignity lies.  In fact, the only indignity worse than being in the middle of the pack is being in the middle of the pack and then getting attacked by bees:

Stage 1 of the Bridge Cape Pioneer Trek international mountain bike stage in the Oudtshoorn region of South Africa was hit by a unexpected surprise when a group of mid-pack riders was met by a swarm of bees approximately 60km in the 103km stage from Oudtshoorn to Calitzdorp on Monday.

A total of 30 riders were badly stung and treated at the scene and nine were rushed to hospital for treatment at the Medi Clinic in Oudtshoorn.


That's gotta suck.  Fortunately, most of the riders are are okay, which is why I feel comfortable joking about it:

Carel Herholdt, of the event organisers Dryland, confirmed that the majority of the hospitalised riders were released on Monday evening and would be able to continue in the race.

And while we're on the subject, here's an encore screening of one of the most thrilling cycling films ever made, "MAN GETTING ATTACKED BY BEES:"



As Homer Simpson once said, "They're defending themselves somehow!"  In any case, this is surely the "Grizzly Man" of cycle touring movies.

Meanwhile, in other competitive cycling news, Michael Barry thinks the sport is too hard:

The environment remains precarious on every level. Cyclists are required to sacrifice most other aspects of their lives to reach the top. Virtually year-round, we lead ascetic lives, where each movement on and off our bikes is calculated so we will perform to the best of our abilities. The demands are high.

His solution to this problem seems to be that the riders should race less and get more money.  This is a charmingly Canadian way of looking at things, though I'm unconvinced.  In fact, I think the only way to rid the sport of doping is to remove any and all forms of compensation whatsoever.

Sure, these guys work really hard, but when you think about it all they're doing is riding bikes as fast as they can, and riding a bike as fast as you can contributes about as much to society as the act of masturbating.  In fact, both acts are remarkably similar in that they can be lots of fun, they're not really hurting anybody, but they're not exactly helping either.  (Though I suppose both help your partner in that they leave you too exhausted to bother them.)  Therefore, like masturbating, riding bikes fast should be something people do entirely in their spare time--even at the highest level of the sport.  Stop enabling these people!  If a typical Cat 4 is willing to completely demean himself for a "pro deal" on a Cannondale what do you think a professional is going to do when an actual living is on the line?  Of course they're cheating!  The only solution is to give these people less, not more, and to treat riding bicycles fast like the act of onanism that it is.  (Sure, there are people who get paid to masturbate, but I'm sure they're using performance-enhancing drugs too.)

Of course, there's still the danger that riders may cheat so that they can capitalize on their victories in other ways (like writing books or opening fast food restaurant chains), but if we all do our part and completely and totally ignore all forms of bicycle racing then maybe they'll all just go away.

By the way, did you know that Dr. Michele Ferrari has a website and you can still hire him to coach you?

Though if you're wondering what it will cost you, that depends on your "exigencies:"

Due to the exclusive nature of the relationship with the athlete, your training solution will be personally priced in accordance with your exigencies, objectives specificity and possibilities as well as duration of the membership.

Feel free to discuss and plan together with us the best training solution to achieve your goals Ð send us an email to admin@53x12.com 

Quality and efficiency are the very basis of our training. 
Flexibility and exclusivity are the foundation of our service.

Which is why I've just sent him an email with the subject line "Cat 6 racer willing to do anything to make it."  Hopefully he'll understand what I mean by "anything" (that's street slang for TAKING DRUGS), though he does assert elsewhere on his site that he does not provide doping services:

As clearly demonstrated in Exibit A by Jack Robertson, this collaboration consisted exclusively of advice on training, saddle height adjustments, aerodynamic positioning, locations for training programs and competitions: NOTHING to do with doping. 

I understand completely.  So, like, how many ampoules of "saddle height" do I need to be the fastest guy over the Williamsburg Bridge?

Alas, the truth is that in cycling the only real heroes are the commuters.  The regular people.  The rank-and-file.  The ones who don't take the bus, even when it rains. (I lifted those last four sentences verbatim from yesterday's post, which is how we bike bloggers dope.  It's called a "homogeneous word transfusion.")  Unfortunately, as far as most of America is concerned, these real heroes can go fuck themselves, which is why in Boston they're posting ads like this:

(Wait, his head looks fine.  So if he had been wearing a helment he wouldn't have cut his chin?)

In other words, anything that happens to you when you don't have a piece of foam strapped to your head is your own damn fault as far as they're concerned.  Actually, anything that happens to you when you do have a piece of foam strapped to your head is also your own damn fault as far as they're concerned.  The helment is just your tacit acknowledgement that they can continue to drive recklessly.  Really, it's mostly just a threat thinly disguised as a PSA.

Also, it's worth pointing out that, at least in New York City, the dumbest riders you'll see are usually wearing helments.  (That doesn't mean that you shouldn't wear one.  It just means that congratulating yourself for wearing a helment is like congratulating yourself for masturbating.)  In particular, there is a direct relationship between doing completely idiotic things on a bicycle and wearing a slightly crooked Nutcase helment.  The streets are now teeming with riders on "vintage" ten speeds and My-First-Fixies in freewheel mode (front brake only, of course), salmoning and riding through red lights with that stupid "draftee in a foxhole" look of fear on their faces, as though some inexorable force is pulling them through the traffic signal or against traffic.  (I guess in their case a bicycle is technically an "inexorable force" since they have no idea how to control it.)  Of course, it's all perfectly fine because they're wearing their helments.  Their poorly-adjusted, off-kilter, "Hey, I've got a watermelon on my head!" helments.

(I guess people really want to look like watermelons.)

Furthermore, many of these riders are also using the new "serval" bicycle saddles, forwarded to me by a reader:

Though nobody's going to accuse Russell Crowe of not wearing proper safety gear when he rides in New York City, as in this photograph which was forwarded to me by another reader:

Not only is he wearing a protective helment and a protective beard, but he's also sporting serval more layers of clothing than I'd think necessary given that it's been like 60 degrees here.  (60 degrees Fahrenheit is approximately [mumblemumblemumble] degrees Celsius.)

Then again, Crowe probably dresses himself according to the Charity Ride Fred temperature scale, which calls for full Windstopper tights as soon as the temperature dips below 65.

Next time he's in down hopefully he'll opt for a "buddy bike," as forwarded by yet another reader:

Tandem buddy bike - $800 (shingletown)
Date: 2012-10-15, 6:35PM PDT
Reply to: [deleted}

I have a rare tandem buddy bike. This is not a home made bike. Its called a buddy bicycle. I think it was made in the 70s. Rides great. just installed new (chain-cables-break pads-tires-tubs). The left side is the side you steer from. Be the only one in the north state to have one. Asking $800.00 or best cash offer. Thanks Jim 530-474-[deleted]

What happens when one of the riders gets off?

Contest: This Is Supposed To Be A Bike Blog So I'm Giving One Away

Here at Bike Snit NYC Industries, LLC, we all love bikes and bicycling and bi-keen!  Whether it's my helper monkey, Vito, training for another Ironman on his Cervélo while wearing a monkeykini, or its my cadre of Estonian thugs "working over" another debtor with a box crown fork, or it's just me wearing head-to-toe Rapha while driving around town with a custom road bike on the roof of my Mercedes, the whole staff at Bike Douche NYC Enterprises, LTD live, breathe, eat, and occasionally vomit cycling.  Therefore, in an insecure attempt to prove how much we love bikes and to curry favor (or curry flavor, mmm delicious, etc.) with our vast readership of six (6), we're going to spend the coming days giving YOU free stuff.  And we're going to start with the Mother of All Free Bike Stuff, which is A Bike.

See this book?  It's called "100 Best Bikes:"

I haven't received my copy of "100 Best Bikes" yet, so I don't know if the 99 other bikes in it are truly the best, or if they're just kind of silly like the one on the cover is.  When I do get it, I'll let you know.  Either way, the publishers of this book have asked me to give away a Biomega folding bicycle, and since at least three of the six people who read this blog probably love bicycles (free ones especially, which are the best kind) I was happy to oblige.  Here's the bike:

I've never actually ridden one, but it seems like it would be useful for getting around town since: A) It folds; and B) If you ever find yourself getting chased by Amazonian warriors you can use that downtube cable to fire their arrows back at them.  Speaking of the downtube cable, here's the idea behind it:

The most media-recognized bike ever made, the Boston includes an integrated lock that’s a structural part of the frame (if a thief cuts the wire, the bike’s unrideable…but repairable), and quickly folds to fit wherever you need to go: on the bus, in your office, or in your apartment. 

Because if a thief cuts the wire and learns the bike is unrideable, he's of course going to take the time to return it to exactly where he left it.

Nevertheless, it still seems like a handy bike--especially if it's free--and it also seems way more practical than the Biomega Brookyn, described thusly:

The Brooklyn is urban in the American sense of the word. It is designed with a free style BMX in mind with heavy duty steel pedals & frame. The wheels are smaller & the tires are extremely fat to give it a bouncing ability yet unseen. There’s nothing practical about this town hopper made for keeping it fun regardless of how harsh the terrain might be. You can take this bike from your habitual city playground to a dune or a heap of snow & maintain your thrust. The Brooklyn has eminent braking power covered by mechanical disc brakes & stays in tune with the Biomega style & elegance with its leather saddle & cool gear. Try the toughest free style grind yet - in luxury.


As a Brooklynite myself, I can assure you we do spend a lot of time riding on sand dunes here, and I'm tempted to try to ride one of these across Gerritsen Inlet.

Anyway, when you have one bike and six readers you need to figure out a way to pick which reader will get it, and that means you have to curate a contestway.  And it doesn't seem fair to give it to someone who already has a bike, nor does it seem fair to give it to someone who doesn't have a bike, but only because they're too cheap and lazy to go buy one.  So that leaves people who had a bike but don't anymore because their bike got stolen.  Therefore, if your bike got stolen and you really need the Biomega folding archery bike because you're screwed without one, here's what to do:

Send an email to "bikesnobnyc (at) yahoo (dot) com" with the following subject line:

BIEK ME UP, WILDCAT!

Please use that subject line verbatim, and note that any variations or deviations are grounds for disqualification, which means you won't get the bike with a downtube that can make a sound like this.

Then, in the email, tell me the following as concisely yet entertainingly as possible:

--Who you are, where you live, what you do, and what your favorite TV show is;
--How your bike got stolen and what you learned from the experience;
--Why you need a folding bike (hint: because you're apparently unable to keep your regular bike from getting stolen);
--How, when you receive it, you will proceed to make the world a better place.

From these emails I'll pick a winner by means of some completely subjective and unfair process as yet to be determined.

The deadline for submissions is this Friday, September 14th, at 12:01AM my time, which is New York City time, the only time that counts.  (Other cities and towns may share our time, but it's really ours.)  Keep in mind that Friday at 12:01AM is what you might still consider Thursday night because you're up smoking Wednesday Weed and watching Jimmy Kimmel, but I can assure you that it's technically Friday, and that's what we're talking about here.

I think that about covers it.  By the end of the week, somebody's going to have a free bike, which I'm sure you'll agree is pants-wettingly exciting.  And don't worry if you miss out on the bike, either, because as soon as this contest ends another one is going to begin.  I won't give you the details yet, but here's a hint: it will be a cockpit photo contest, and the winners will get Knog Blinders, just in time for the increasingly short days of fall.  Actually, I guess I just gave away almost all of the details, but you do still need submission guidelines, so a tantalizingly small bit of mystery still remains.

Moving on to the exciting world of professional bike riding, a reader informs me that every single competitor in the Paris-Bruxelles bicycle race except for Tom Boonen has been killed dead:

Here's a gripping account from the race's only survivor:

"The finish here at Paris-Brussel is not so easy. The team led me perfectly until the last corner. [Nikolas] Maes literally killed everybody during the lead-out. His job permitted me to pass the train of Rabobank and have a good sprint."

This is the worst tragedy to hit competitive cycling since an entire Cat 4 field "literally exploded" on a tiny hill during a race in Prospect Park.

Meanwhile, eerily, Alberto Contador has now won seven Grand tours...in his mind (insert spooky reverb here):

Here's his reasoning:

"That other number appears on paper, it is ultimately secondary to me. What matters is my own feeling and the impressions that remain in the retina of the spectators," he said.

In a sport full of trite soundbites like "I felt super strong that day" and "I couldn't have done it without my team" it's almost shocking to read what amounts to a discourse on subjectivism versus relativism.  People go to school for like 19 years and get multiple doctorates to draw conclusions like the one Contador just threw out as an afterthought after winning the Vuelta.  I don't know what kind of steak he's been eating recently, but it must have been marinated in brain tonic.

Speaking of carnage and subjectivism, every single newspaper in New York City has successfully managed to completely ignore the fact that drivers are free to kill without consequence--until today, when it was finally acknowledged by the New York Times:

Not only that, but there's even an acknowledgement that drivers routinely break the law:

I conducted my own anecdotal study. This Monday morning I stood by the lamppost on Broadway and 14th Street that has become a de facto altar for Ms. Buta. In 25 minutes I watched three trucks, including an 18-wheeler, narrowly miss pedestrians walking the intersection. I counted 17 cars, trucks and a “New York Waterway” bus running red lights.

Though if he had performed his anecdotal study in my neighborhood it would have read more like this:

This morning I stood by the lamppost on the corner outside of the deli, and in 45 seconds I watched a car service driver run me down and kill me.

Anyway, people like John Del Signore at Gothamist as well as the smugness cabal over at Streetsblog have been pointing this stuff out for years, and hopefully it's a good sign that the "Old Gray Lady" has finally pulled her head out of her old gray posterior.  I'm also looking forward to The Daily News's take, which I'm sure will sport a headline like this:

"Reckless Bikers and Pedestrians Who Fail To Wear Helments Face Few Penalties in New York."

It will also spell "pedal" as "peddle" fourteen times.

Fortunately for us, the News is not distracted by this murderous driver smokescreen nonsense and instead have the real enemy squarely in their cockeyed sights:

(This blog observes a strict no-direct-link-to-The-Daily-News policy.)

Not so fast, bikers.

The NYPD has stepped up its offensive against scofflaw cyclists in Central Park a month after a Daily News investigation exposed the dangers of speeding riders in the park.

Auxiliary cops fanned out across the park Saturday, handing out bicycle safety pamphlets and telling cyclists to heed Central Park’s speed limit of 25 mph.

Relieved pedestrians welcomed the new crackdown on speeding bicycle riders.

“I’ve never seen that before,” said jogger Nick Spangler, 27, who spotted cops telling Central Park bikers to slow down and follow traffic signals Saturday morning.

I only hope there's an end in sight to all this newspaper anti-cycling stuff, and I also hope it's an ironic one which involves the entire staff of The Daily News getting run over by one of the paper's own trucks.

Lastly, one of the principals of this Kickstarter project asked me to share it with all six of you:


I really have only one reservation about this project, which is that this is a guide to riding a bicycle around Portland and finding beer.  I don't see how this requires a guidebook, since finding beer on a bike in Portland is about as hard as finding a duty-free shop in an airport.  Portland is essentially just a city of bars, coffee shops, and bikes shops connected by bike lanes.  You have a one-in-three chance of walking into any building in Portland and being able to buy beer in it.  It's also almost impossible to get lost in Portland, which is about the size of Park Slope.  (Sure, I've been lost in Portland, but do keep in mind I'm an idiot.)  Then again, maybe there is a market for obvious books, in which case I'm going to launch a Kickstarter campaign for a guide to how to get your bike stolen in New York City.

Also, you'll notice that in the video it's a beautiful day:

Portland has exactly three-quarters of a beautiful day a year, yet between Kickstarter and "Portlandia" there are about a billion videos of people riding around Portland in the sunshine.  This leads me to believe that during those few short hours the entire city must shut down and give itself over entirely to filming.  (Inasmuch as a city that consists entirely of bike shops, breweries, and coffee houses can "shut down," of course.)

Other than that, I'm totally on board.

The Bald Truth: Spondee Is As Spondee Does

When you think of smugness, chances are you think of things like taking your kids to private school in a bakfiets, engaging in bike advocacy, or making bicycle frames out of bamboo.  However, the fact is that cycledom hath no smugness like a retired professional bike racer, as evidenced by this plea from retired Classics star Johan Museeuw:

"I am the first to admit it openly, and perhaps many people will blame me that I break the silence, but it must be: virtually everyone took doping at that time,” he told the Gazet van Antwerpen.

"We must break with the hypocrisy. The only way to come out of that murderous spiral is to break the silence, the silence that continues to haunt us.”

Conveniently, now that he's retired Museeuw would like to see the hypocrisy broken, which I'm pretty sure is the exact definition of hypocrisy.  I feel the same way about cutting the line when I'm merging onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway in a car--it's fine when I do it, but I'll be damned if I'll let anybody do it to me once I've gotten in there.  (And that includes that hypocrite David Byrne, should he ever attempt to cut in front of me in the car he claims he doesn't own.)  Also, while Museeuw is now quite willing to admit his doping openly, he's still silent with regard to his toupée:

Which evokes George Costanza in that toupée episode of "Seinfeld:"

The only way to come out of that murderous spiral of wearing a bathmat on your head is to break the silence, the silence that continues to haunt us.  Free yourself from your fuzzy hair yarmulke, Johan Museeuw, and let your scalp shine in the bright lights of honesty and gradual baldness:

(And that was two years ago, my head shines much more brightly now.)

Either that, or just shut up about it.  Why exactly is it so important to clean up the sport anyway?  Is it for the future generations of aspiring riders?  If so this is a tremendous mistake, because if anything young people should be actively discouraged from becoming professional cyclists regardless of how clean or dirty the sport may be.  We need people who do important stuff like building things and teaching children and helping sick people.  We don't need people who ride bikes fast for flooring companies.  Trust me, I know a thing or two about useless jobs, and that's because I have one.  In fact, if there are three subjects on which I'm an expert, it's balding, being a hypocrite, and contributing nothing to society.  Anyway, if any of my seventeen children ever tell me they want to become a professional cyclist I'll rend my garments in despair and do my best to convince them to choose a wiser career path, such as rock drumming or rapping.  At least rappers sometimes go on to having movie careers, whereas the best you can hope for as a cyclist is to become a directeur sportif like Jonathan Vaughters:

Writing openly in the Cyclingnews forum, Vaughters further said that Tom Danielson, Christian Vande Velde and David Zabriskie had doped in the past, bluntly discussed personalities on the team and discussed his standards for hiring riders, all the while relating virtually all of it to doping.

Actually, maybe doping's not such a big deal after all.  I mean, how much of an advantage could doping be if Tom Danielson was doing it?  Maybe it just doesn't work on him.  Some people are like that, you know.  He's like the guy in college who keeps saying "I don't feel anything" after you all drop acid.  Meanwhile, the rest of you are watching a tree doing Monty Python routines.  I guess it might also help if he didn't fall off his bike at key moments.  Someone needs to invent a drug that keeps riders from falling off their bikes--though I suppose it exists already and is called "glue."

Speaking of useless jobs, I'm thinking of making the move from bike blogger to bike photographer, since apparently you can get $60 a pop for taking a picture of a valve stem:

A reader forwarded me the above photo knowing that I'm no stranger to valve stem porn:

So for $55 (that's five dollars less than the competition) I'll send you a custom photograph of a valve stem in the orientation of your choice: 12:00, 3:00, 6:00, 9:00, or even 4:20 for the discerning "Wednesday weed" enthusiast.  Also, if you act now, I'll throw in a photo of a crooked Schrader valve on a department store Mongoose for free!  Just click here to order, and soon your home could be full of "art" that makes your visitors wonder what's wrong with you.

Indeed, cycling is not lacking in entrepreneurial opportunities, but the California Gold Rush of the bike boom is in lights.  Yes, everybody is rushing to build a better bike light, and the latest is the "Monocle," which turns your iPhone into a butt-blinky:

So basically, the Monocle requires:

--An iPhone
--A special sack for your iPhone
--An "app" that requires you to input all sorts of information about how long you want the light to be on and how often you want it to blink
--And of course a belt

Because nobody ever rides a bicycle without wearing a belt.

I'm not sure how all of that is simpler than just using any of the roughly nine million blinky lights currently on the market, but at least this way your phone's battery should be sucked dry when you find yourself stranded somewhere late at night.

By the way, when I plugged the phrase "light monocle" into a popular search engine, the first image it turned up was this:

Which is part of a feature called "Twelve Astonishing Steampunk Monocles."  This in turn immediately made me think of a photograph of Alexandre Vinokourov, which was sent to me by another reader:

Vino very badly needs an Astonishing Steampunk Monocle to complement his Olympic gold medal and his Giant Kazakh Hat of Distinction and transform him into a full-on supervillain.  Then he can star as the bad guy in the next Cipollini Bond movie, which will be called either "GoldTaint" or "OctoScranus."

Also, another potential supervillain who could use an Astonishing Steampunk Monocle are the mayors of Toronto, those Robs Fords:

Just imagine him wearing an Astonishing Steampunk Monocle.  Even as it is he's well on the way to supervillainy, and with that Kubrickian stare I can't tell if he's dreaming of running down a cyclist or of devouring one of those 12-foot party subs.  (Or, for the Canadians, one of those 3.65760 meter party subs.)  Or maybe he's just dreaming about being made completely of butter so that he can eat himself:

("I can't believe it's not literate.")

The above photo was taken by yet another reader, and clearly butter is the perfect medium in which to render those Robs Fords, since this exquisite sculpture manages to evoke both Winston Churchill and Jabba the Hutt.

In any case, if you're a Torontoite (or Torontoan or Torontwat or Tarantula or whatever the correct demonym is) chafing under the reign of those Robs Fords (despite the fact that those Robs Fords are buttery soft), you can always move to Chicago and join the Fox River Fixies, forwarded by still yet another reader:

Fox River Fixies (Batavia )

Date: 2012-09-01, 4:12PM CDT

Fox River Fixies is now recruiting new members to be part of an elite fixed gear club that hauls ass down Fox River trails. You must have a fixed gear bike, no single speeds and no brakes. There will be a one time membership fee of $30 which will include a Fox River Fixies T-shirt. 

Thanks,

Bryan 

That's silly.  Everyone knows that you can haul a lot more asses with a bakfiets than you can with a fixie.

What you should not do, however, is move to Brooklyn, which has become sickeningly precious and twee:

Hot Dads + Everyone Else! Thank You! - w4m - 45 (Cobble Hill/Park Slope)

Date: 2012-09-04, 9:11PM EDT

I walk the streets of our fine neighborhoods and every day I am totally floored by the very fine manhood that is out there. Maybe it's hormone surges that are keeping my eyes wandering but I would like to give a big shout out to all the hot dads, youngish hipster dudes, guys with dogs, guys on bikes, guys drinking beer, guys walking down the street, pushing ridiculously expensive strollers, sitting in open windows, swimming/working out at the Y, drinking fair trade coffee, waiting for the F train and just living -- you are such an amazing and welcome embellishment to this already great neighborhood and I cannot stop appreciating you.

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for being fit, young or not, fashionable, good looking, friendly and well-groomed eye candy. I don't want to objectify you because so many of you seem intellectual, even if you're not actually but, I love seeing your taut skin or scruffy beards, when you stand there stroking/scratching your tight stomach (the muscular V makes me swoon) with your unironic t-shirt slightly hiked up while you chat, straddling your fixed gear bike. I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch you sometimes.

And, to those few of you who actually look me in the face and smile when you catch me checking you out -- extra special thanks for looking past the wedding ring, the kid, the dog, the bag full of crap, the harried look, the signs of having worshipped the sun unwisely in my youth and the jiggly arms/thighs/gut. You make me feel like a goddess! Oh how I wish one of you would speak to me one day to say something more meaningful than "Caramel Machiado for ______." Take the chance and say hello. You never know. 

It's exactly the people described above who have transformed Brooklyn into an impossibly expensive place to live, and I only wish they'd pack up their "good spondee" and their fair trade coffee and their fixie bikes and move back to San Francisco.

And they can take their "Patti Smith shit" with them too:

Asian bicyclist w/Patti Smith shit - m4w - 49 (Manhattan Bridge)
Date: 2012-09-06, 5:58AM EDT

On Monday Sept. 3, you were waiting for the light to change on Jay Street under the Manhattan Bridge. I arrived on my bike behind you and was dazzled by your beauty. Trying to think of something to say before the light changed, I noticed your t-shirt. "Is that Patti Smith?" I asked. You smiled and said yes. Then the light changed, and off you went, west on Sands St, while I (alas) was going south on Jay.

Well, I'm a Patti Smith fan and a bicyclist... We have two things in common.

Will you please be in touch? I'd be so happy to hear from you....

Smith.  Shit.  Now that's good spondee.