Going Down Hard: Saucy Kangaroos and Spicy Videos

Despite my belief in always sparing readers from my personal problems, the truth is there are some difficulties which are too great for me to bear alone. One such example was a couple of weeks ago when I got sick. Now, I find myself in need of support once again, for in "curating" The Great Meh BSNYC Free Scat Contest! I have been subjected to tales so woeful as to desiccate even the most exuberant soul. Following is an excerpt from one such account, which only proves that our existence is as cruel as it is meaningless:

Riding to work on a fire road at 4.30am I had coming together with a bloody big Western Red kangaroo. I spotted the stupid bastard in my helmet-mounted-eBay-purchased-from-Hong-Kong extra sthpecial seven-candlepower light with enough time to say "watchout ya stupid f*cker", it then proceeded to change direction twice before hopping and propping right in front of me. Those bastards are hard. And big. Make no mistake there's no cuddling kangaroos. I'm about 190 pounds and he had at least another 50 on me. We both went down and somehow I ended up spooning him momentarily. That was just before he decided to give me a swift kick in the groin. He sprung up like nothing had happened, took his first leap using my front wheel as a trampoline and disappeared into the darkness.

It only gets worse from there. A kick to the "pants yabbies" from a kangaroo is bad enough, but to also lose your bike in the process is an indignity of Jobian proportions. (That's "Jobian," as in the biblical figure Job, and not "Jobstian," as in serial retrogrouch and uber-curmudgeon Jobst Brandt. Jobstian stories are generally Bunyanesque tall tales involving things like sealing tires with spoiled milk and extruding MA2 rims in the forest with your teeth.) By the way, if you doubt the validity of the kangaroo story, I was also suspicious. However, I did some checking, and it turns out the submission comes from Australia. As it happens, Australia is the pretty much the only place in which Western Red kangaroos--or really any kangaroos--are found in the wild (though I think there may also be some in New Guinea, home of the penis gourd), and this is a little-known fact of which the average confidence artist would be unlikely to be aware. Also, if you're wondering what kind of person rides to work on a fire road at 4:30am, do keep in mind that he is Australian, so he's probably just your typical accountant or other white collar professional. There are very few actual paved roads and buildings "Down Under," and most people live and work in hollowed-out trees. Moreover, they live in constant terror of kangaroos, and so they tend to commute before dawn under cover of darkness

Despite my immense sympathy for the victim, though, please know that he is not necessarily going to win the Scattante. I merely wanted to give readers a taste of the bitter tonic I must constantly imbibe, and at this point the Scattante is still very much "up for grabs." However, I would like to stress that whoever does win the Scattante should emphatically not equip it with this "book caddy" from Performance, which was brought to my attention by a number of readers:

I should not have to point out that reading while cycling is extremely dangerous--more so even than listening to music. This is something I can say from experience, because while I mentioned the other day that I crashed into a beer truck this past summer, what I did not include was the fact that I was reading Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" at the time. This is a book that is as pants-yabbies-twistingly emotional as it is engrossing, and it's both Jobian and Jobstian. Anyway, there I was, riding and crying, and before I even had a chance to insert a bookmark to hold my place I found myself flying over the handlebars of my Empire State Courier and Euro-kissing the Bud Light logo like an overly-amorous podium girl.

Speaking of how not to use your Scattante, while I really have no control over what the winner does with it, I would implore him or her not to use it for epicurean adventures. No, the appropriate bicycle for such excursions is the Globe, as we all know from watching the web TV series "Pedaling: NYC." Such have been the rigors of my curatorial responsibilities that I have fallen an episode behind in my viewing, and have only just watched Episode 3, entitled "Sweet and Savory:"

At my age (I lie somewhere within the coveted 18-65 marketing demographic) I should know by now never to judge people solely upon their appearance. Still, when I first set eyes on the burly protagonist of "Sweet and Savory," my immediate impression was, "This guy is going to ride out to Coney Island and eat the fuck out of some Nathan's." I could not have been more wrong. In fact, he is a very affable and erudite British-accented man named Behroush Sharifi, and he's a spice importer known as "The Saffron King." Here's the King throwing a leg over a Globe:

This episode of "Pedaling" breaks with tradition a bit in that there's a lot more narration from the Saffron King than there was from the Fixie Crew in Episode 1 or the roadies in Episode 2. The Saffron King expresses his enthusiasm for cycling articulately and in a manner to which many of us can undoubtedly relate. "Every single time I get on my bicycle, it's a whole new adventure," he says. "I feel free."

I don't doubt the Saffron King's claim, though I must say that most of the time he's riding he also appears terrified:

Perhaps he was once the victim of a kangaroo attack. That kind of trauma will stay with you.

Also noteworthy is the Saffron King's approach to clothing, as he is clearly one of those people who wears shorts well into the colder months. Personally, I find the effect disorienting, since his heavily-clothed upper half is completely at odds with his scantily-clad lower half and I feel like I'm looking at two seasons at once. Basically, it's October upstairs:

But it's still July downstairs:

Even more disorienting is the music, which is incredibly tedious. I'm not sure who the artist is, but it sounds like The Breeders on Thorazine.

Eventually, the Saffron King, whose riding has been quite subdued until now, powers his Globe onto the sidewalk:


And then dismounts and enters the Blue Ribbon Bakery, leaving his bicycle completely unlocked and unattended:


Perhaps I misinterpreted the Saffron King's look of terror and it was actually one of discomfort. It could be that he hates his Globe, and that he's hoping it will get stolen so he can win a Scattante. I wonder if I've received a submission from him. You'd think this episode was filmed well before I even came up with the contest idea, but then again the King's multi-seasonal wardrobe makes it completely impossible to determine when it was made. Anyway, here's the Saffron King meeting the baker:


At this point, the Saffron King begins to withdraw plastic bags full of "spices" from his pannier:

If a bearded and ponytailed man who rides around town delivering powder in Ziploc bags seems suspicious to you, you're not the only one:

I haven't seen dealing this flagrant since Cheech & Chong's "Nice Dreams." Meanwhile, here's the scene outside the Blue Ribbon Bakery:

I know they're foreign policemen, but when you're taking on a criminal like Behroush Sharifi--street name "The Saffron King"--you need an international task force.

Anyway, presumably now higher than Tom Boonen on payday, the baker and the Spice King decide to bake some tarts:

Frankly, I'd be hesitant to eat anything baked by the Saffron King--not because it might contain narcotics, but because it might be full of beard hair. I'd at least like to see him putting on some sort of beardnet before going to work:

Here he is mixing in the beard hair:

Here they are sliding the tarts into the oven along with the freebase:

Here they are testing the finished product:

And here's the Saffron King pulling a really long beard hair out of his mouth:

"Can I grab a couple to throw in my panniers?," asks the Saffron King. "I'm going to ride further down towards Chinatown," he exclaims--clearly planning to sell the "tarts" to his next connection. However, the police are wise to the entire operation by now, and they seize him as soon as he walks out of the door:

And so it would seem that this particular episode of "Pedaling" was actually an elaborate sting operation designed to take the Saffron King down, and I'm sure the authorities are grateful for Mike Sinyard's participation. (Actually, he likely "ratted out" Boonen too, and the Saffron King was probably Boonen's supplier.) I'm looking forward to watching the next episode, which once again features the Fixie Crew, and I hope they too receive the justice they deserve.

Feeling Freaky: Who Needs Insight?

Like the brakeless rider who does not consider how he will stop his bicycle until he's at the bottom of the hill, the light is red, and an SUV is approaching the intersection, I do not always think things through. For example, when I announced "The Great Meh BSNYC Free Scat Contest!" yesterday, it did not occur to me that perusing people's tales of lament would take a great psychic toll on me. Indeed, to "curate" this contest is to enter a world of injury, theft, pain, and heartache, and the subsequent angst can be assuaged only with spirits. It was not yet sundown yesterday when I began drinking, and it was not yet time for the evening news when I found myself passed out face-down in a bowl of cold macaroni and cheese. Alas, there are too many deserving souls and too few mail-order singlespeeds, and it saddens me that I have but one to give.

Today, however, brings perspective, and after consuming my customary hangover concoction (consisting of apple juice, black pepper, skim milk, and a shot of that disgusting yellow water that's always first to emerge from a squeeze bottle of mustard) I now realize that I must focus on the positive. So instead of dwelling on the many people I will disappoint, I will instead imagine the joy that will fill the life of the winner as well as the beauty that is a brand-new Scattante Americano Courier whatever-the-hell-they're-called. Which bike will the winner choose? Perhaps it will be this one:

It's clear from the new Scats that Performance did their homework this year. (I'm not saying they got an "A" or anything, but they did hand in a piece of paper with something written on it, and as a former mediocre student myself I say that counts.) Most noticeable is that Performance are keyed into the whole "different color fork" thing, which is very fashionable in fixed-gear freestyle right now, and which I assume they stole from the BMX crowd along with all their tricks. (I wonder if fixed-gear freestylers also install their forks much more slowly and awkwardly than BMX riders do, since that seems to be their approach to the tricks.) Performance is a bit behind the times on fashionable foot retention though, and I'm surprised they didn't spec any of the new bikes with some bootleg Hold Fasts. I've actually been using the real thing on my Scattante, and I've been pretty pleased with them. If you're unfamiliar with Hold Fasts, they work exactly like a pair of velcro bedroom slippers--the footwear of choice for the Thorazine-addled. This is why Hold Fast is an especially good choice for the intoxicated or those of limited faculties. (The latter is certainly why I chose them.) I may even "drop" my own version soon:

Made of tough drool-resistant materials, they'll grip your feet with the strength of a thousand patient restraints.

Of course, if you win the Scattante you're also going to need to win a proper bag. Fortunately, over at All Hail The Black Market, Stevil has announced a contest wherein you can do just that. Then, with a free bike and a free bag, you'll have plenty of money left over to drape yourself in Rapha. After all, spring will be here before you know it, and you can't cruise around town on a Hold-Tite®-equipped Scattante sporting a fancy new bag without a proper pair of "shants." Even if Rapha is out of your price range you have no excuse, because there's always eBay. In fact, a reader just forwarded me this auction for a pair of Rapha shants that would excite even the most heavily-sedated shopper:





Today, I'm selling some Rapha cycling shorts. Fixed Shorts, they are called. Rapha, for the uninformed visitor, is the pinnacle of aesthetic cycling wear. It is expensive, and only for the true connoisseur of design and performance. Or something like that. The point is, ladies and gentlemen, that possessing and wearing clothes made by Rapha makes you cool. It makes you rich. It means you go cycling in the French Pyrenees on the weekends until you get tired, then pop into your Audi A-whatever and go home, satisfied that your sleek, rich body is glistening with sleek, rich sweat.

Actually, I don't know if that's true. All I know is, my girlfriend bought them for me, found out I was a fixed-gear poseur (I rode a geared bike on the weekend) and cheated on me with a clove-smoking, knuckle-tattooed douche. And he wore cutoffs and white plimsolls. Double douche. Or she dumped me for him because he has a bigger penis than I do. Either way, I want nothing to do with these pants. And you do.

If, by some cosmic chance, you aren't sure if these pants are for you, you are wrong. They are. To prove it, I want you to read this. It is a secret story patch found WITHIN THE VERY WALLS of the shorts. Pants. Whatever:

Fixed.
Blue has been around for well over ten years now. When he started, his nickname made sense to everyone. Nowadays it doesn't need to make sense. After all, names rarely do. It could only be assumed that blue was the colour of his bike. That's how the guys identify each other. If you ask anyone where 'Bill' or 'Nick' is, you will always be faced with the question "What bike does he ride?" But now Blue's bike is an old green and white Puch track bike. No brakes, of course. His name hasn't changed though. "Hey Green and White!" wouldn't have the same ring. And besides, there's already someone else called Puch.

All true. I've even included and appropriately blurry picture so you can half doubt me with the aching curiosity that tells you it's true. Buy the Rapha Fixed Shorts.

Rapha really needs to hire that guy. He'd move more shants than a naked woman at bike polo tournament. (You know, because of the erections.)

So once you've got your urban singlespeed, and your bag, and your boutique foot retention system, and your shants, you will be ready to take to the streets--yes, the streets, and not the sidewalk. Most of us realize this, but sadly there are some motorists out there who do not. One of these motorists is someone named Gloria Fallon, who issued this "tweet" about 10 days ago which was forwarded to me by a reader:

There's certainly nothing new about people sharing moronic observations via social networking sites. For example, there's that Facebook group everybody was talking about, which I couldn't even be bothered to look at for the same reason I simply flush the toilet after using it instead of rummaging around in there for awhile and then smelling my own hand. However, this one held my attention for a number of reasons. Firstly, it's that particularly irritating form of idiocy that masquerades as wit. Secondly, there's nothing more noxious than the gas that forms when ignorance mingles with entitlement. Yes, why are bicycles allowed to ride on the street with cars? Well, I don't know, Gloria, but you can rest assured that your fellow idiots out there are at least trying to relegate bicycles to the skies. (Other questions along these same lines include: Why are women allowed to vote? Why can't I just kill people? Why are poor and ugly people allowed to shop in the same supermarket I am?) Thirdly, I'm reasonably sure that Gloria Fallon is Jimmy Fallon's sister (Why are bad comedians allowed to host talk shows?), which is the only reason I can think of that her quip was "retweeted" like 29 times:

Now, I'm fairly new to Twitter (yes, I'm on Twitter), but my understanding of a "retweet" is that it implies an endorsement, or an expectation that the sentiment expressed in the original "tweet" will be shared by one's followers. So, since Gloria Fallon appears to be the sister of a "celebrity," I wondered if any other "celebrities" shared her beffudlement. As it happens, there was one person of note who did seem to agree with her: columnist Joel Stein, who has over a million followers.

I suddenly imagined some awful cocktail party at which a tipsy Gloria Fallon approaches Joel Stein and, her lips and teeth stained with red wine, remarks to him: "Oh my God, Joel, I had the most annoying drive over here. There was like totally this biker guy in my way the whole time. Why are bicycles allowed to ride on the street with cars? Am I allowed to paddle a kayak in front of the QE2?" Instead of correcting her, Joel Stein simply clinks glasses with her and says, "I know, right? You're so clever, Gloria. Nice boating reference." Two hours later, they're groping each other in the bathroom.

Again, it's entirely possible that as a novice Twitter "curator" I've missed something, and that Joel Stein does not share Gloria Fallon's view on bicycles--especially since he's written about cycling for mainstream publications on a number of occasions. Maybe he simply retweeted her comment because he just assumed his legions of Twitter followers would realize immediately it was moronic. Then again, while Stein writes about cycling, he's not necessarily the most insightful commentator. For example, here's something he wrote about the Tour de France for the Los Angeles Times in 2008:

If you're like me, I'm sure you can't get enough of mainstream journalists associating doping and cycling--because, you know, there's no cheating in baseball. (Manny Ramirez was tested 15 times in 5 years. Lance Armstrong was tested 15 times since breakfast.) Then, he goes on to tip Cadel Evans as the winner:

Sure, Evans was looking really good there for awhile, but any real cycling fan knows he's about as likely to get through a Tour without choking as Jimmy Fallon is likely to get through a skit without laughing. Still, it's much easier to hire dilettantes with recognizable names, which is why the media industry is doing as well as it is. Here's another Tour bit from Stein in 2009, this one for ESPN:

I guess Stein has found a nice little sideline making fun of a relatively obscure sport for "mainstream sports" fans who know even less about it than he does. Incidentally, he does mention that he rides a bike, if only for brief periods of time--though presumably not in the street, since he'd be liable to delay Gloria Fallon. In any case, if you feel like a total freak--either as a cyclist or a cycling fan--this might help explain why.

This Just In: I'm Giving Away A Free Bike Because I Don't Need It!

Firstly, as a number of people pointed out last week, the blog you are currently reading has been nominated for two "Bloggies." (Just to clarify, I'm referring to this blog, not the "Gossip Girl" fan blog you have open in another browser window.) Moreover, it has been nominated in both the "Best Sports Weblog" category:


As well as the "Best Writing of a Weblog" category:

Both of these nominations are highly ironic, since not only is my knowledge of and interest in the world of sports beyond cycling nonexistent, but I'm also proan to typoes and mostly ignorant to the rules on grammer. Plus, I don't really stand a chance anyway, since I'm pitted against the ruthlessly self-promoting and violently affable "Fat Cyclist," who will no doubt lumber away with the majority of the cycling vote as his fat rolls jiggle triumphantly.

In fact, when I first learned of the nomination I was going to ignore it altogether, since not only do I resent having to compete with a more deserving colleague and fellow bike dork, but also because you don't even win any money, so who really cares, right? However, after a weekend of contemplation, I decided to at least mention it, since I'm planning to "jump the shark" around springtime-ish and figured I could use an award or two in my Rapha cap (yes, Rapha makes a shark-jumping hat). Plus, I looked up the award in a popular user-generated Internet encyclopedia and the entry mentioned that the Bloggies are covered by "Express India." That's the sort of press that can send you straight to the top faster than a pair of rocket-powered underpants. So, I will reluctantly ask you to go the Bloggies website and vote for me--but only if you feel like it. Also, keep in mind that Fat Cyclist is also nominated for "Weblog of the Year," so if you don't want to snub the Chubster then you can vote for him there and then vote for this blog in the other categories. (Incidentally, I don't want to call Fatty a fraud or anything, but I do feel I should mention that I've met him in person and I'm much fatter than he is. Actually, I think I outweighed both him and his companion combined. So please take that into account as you cast your ballot.)

Moving on, there is only one phrase sweeter than "You've been nominated for a Bloggie," and that phrase is, "We'd like to give you a free Scattante." Yes, as difficult as it is to believe, I recently got to hear that one too--my life is just that charmed. As longtime readers may recall, about a year ago I received a Scattante Empire State Courier from mail-order retail giant Performance, which was basically a half-assed after-the-fact acknowledgement subsequent to their "borrowing" a bunch of "memes" from my blog. Anyway, it turns out they're about to "drop" a whole new line of Scattante "courier series" bikes, and I guess when Performace rips you off you automatically win some sort of "a Scattante a year for life sweepstakes," because they recently offered to send me a brand new "courier" bike of my choice.

The thing is, I need a new Scattante about as much as Prolly needs another fitted cap, or as much as Stevil needs another beer hand-down, or as much as Fatty needs another ham and cheese croissant. This is not to say there's anything wrong with my current Scattante. On the contrary, I actually use it a lot, and it's still perfectly serviceable even after I ran into the back of a beer truck with it this past summer (though I did have to replace the fork, at a cost of approximately $15). However, as I've said before, I believe it's a sin to refuse a free bike, and I realized that while I don't need the thing there are probably plenty of other people out there who do. So I told Performance I'd rather give the bike away to a reader instead and they agreed.

Of course, choosing a recipient requires some sort of selection process, so this forces me to run a "contest." As a cycling blogger, I often hear the laments of people who have lost their bicycles to theft, and I figure if anybody needs a free bike it's somebody who lost theirs in this manner. So here's how the contest will work. If you or somebody close to you has had a bicycle stolen recently, please send your story (via words, or video, or narrative cartoon, or song, or whatever emailable medium is most comfortable for you) to me at bikesnobnyc(at)yahoo(dot)com with the subject line "I DISPARATELY NEED A BIEK!" You must send your story before 12:01 AM EST on Saturday, January 30th, and it should address the following:

1) Where you live;

2) How old you are;

3) How many bikes you currently own;

4) How your bike got stolen;

5) What you used it for and why you need a replacement.

Please keep your submission as succinct as possible. While special consideration will be given for entertainment value, the most important factor in determining a winner will be need. (If your bike was stolen despite being securely locked and you need a new one to get to work or school you could win; if your unlocked bike was stolen from in front of a bar and you need a new one for bar-crawling you will lose.) While I have no way of verifying your tale, I urge you to be honest and not to fabricate "sob stories." Also, keep in mind that I may post any entries I receive.

Once the submissions are in, I will choose a winner, either by jury, or by vote, or simply at my own discretion, and that winner will be able to pick from any of the new Scattante Americano Courier Series Single Speeds, which you can see here on the Performance blog. While the "colourwheys" are a subjective matter, I will say that I have been able to "run" my Scattante with actual full coverage fenders (as opposed to the spindly-looking ones in the pictures) and 25c tires as well as a rear rack ("P clamps" required for the seat stays, though) which means you can turn this into a reasonably practical city bike with minimal investment. Also, Performance will throw in their "Spin Doctor Pro Bike Build," so your desperately-needed bicycle should be ready to roll as soon as it arrives at your door.

Most importantly, here's the Official Contest Graphic:

And here's the Official Contest FAQ:

Is this some sort of slimy arrangement to promote Performance?

No. It's simply an attempt to give someone a free bike that I don't need. What could possibly be slimy about that? Taking it for myself and then putting it on eBay would be slimy.

Is this some sort of slimy attempt to win "Bloggies" votes?

No, though if I win, the new Scattante owner is free to travel to wherever they give the "Bloggie" and accept it on my behalf (at his or her own expense, and provided I don't feel like going at the time).

Is this some sort of slimy attempt to rip off Fat Cyclist, the King of Bike Giveaways?

Absolutely.

I don't like any of those Scattantes. What can I do?

Uh, it's free. Either don't enter the contest, or just beat the crap out of the bike like I did.

How much does a fully-loaded Scattante weigh?

The answer to that question is "NSFW."

Can you barspin a Scattante?

No. If you plan to use your Scattante for "barspinzzz" then you will be disqualified from the contest.

How did you hit a beer truck?

Hard.

What does "Scattante" mean anyway?

The answer to that question is really "NSFW."

So there it is. Best of luck, and I look forward to hearing from you.

--BSNYC/RTMS

It's BSNYC! It's Friday! It's Fun! It's a Qüiz! (Now with gratuitous umlaut.)

(Image by "Anonymous Coward")

Have you ever walked into a bike co-op and thought to yourself, "Wow, I really wish I could see everyone in here in sexy poses."? Well, even though you haven't, the members of one co-op in Tempe, Arizona called "Bike Saviours" have nonetheless decided to put together a calendar containing just that. Here's the photo for January:, which features a snarling woman with cable housing between her legs:

I should mention that this is only one of the racy images I've received via email recently, and I also continue to get the occasional lascivious "get well" card as I am, uh, not fully recovered yet. [Insert feeble cough here.] If you'd like to get a sense of the contents of some of these cards, entering the terms "BMX" and "vulva" into a popular search engine should give you some idea. In any case, if you're a product of the digital age and are unfamiliar with the concept of a "calendar," it's basically like an abacus, but for time. Also, there are both women and men in the calendar, and September in particular promises to be a real stunner as the "Bike Saviours" appear to have enlisted the services of the astronaut farmer himself, Billy Bob Thornton:

Anyway, I'm assured proceeds go towards "bicycle education and advocacy," which is a good thing because there are definitely way too many uneducated bicycles out there, especially in Arizona. (And there's clearly no shortage of bike co-op members willing to expose their pubic thatches, either.)

Having either enticed or disgusted you, I'm now pleased to present you with a qüiz. As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer. If you're right that's fantastic, and if you're wrong you'll see bicycle marketing at its most powerful.

Enjoy the weekend, ride safe, and if you visit your local bike co-op you might want to wash your hands afterwards.

--BSNYC/RTMS

1) Hawks come in various:

--Colorways

--Color Morphs

--Featherways

--Mouth-watering flavors

2) What is the correct translation for the inscription on this footrest?

--"Hi, cyclist! Rest your foot here... and thank you for cycling in the city."
--"Hi, cyclist! Place your foot here...in order to remain fully erect."

--"Hi, cyclist! This dog waste shoe scraper has been placed here for your convenience by the City of Copenhagen. Enjoy!"

--"Ich bein ein Berliner!"

3) Why is Mario Cipollini climbing a ladder?

--He is pursuing a pair of bike thieves

--He is pursuing a lovely lady

--He is in dire need of a toilet

--He's just puttering around the house, doing a few repairs

4) Why is Mario Cipollini carrying a "man purse?"

--He must have access to large quantities of hair gel at all times

--He must have access to large quantities of prophylactics at all times

--Because doing so is "Cipollini-esque"

--All of the above

(You don't want to mess with Balistic Mitch.)

5) "Balistic speeds are ________:"

--Feasible

--Inevitable

--Possible

--Probable

6) Which athletic company and which fashion designer are "collabiating" on a line of cycling apparel?

--Nike and Marc Jacobs

--Le Coq Sportif and Paul Smith

--Adidas and Stella McCartney

--Russell Athletic and Pierre Cardin

7) What comes in a "hipster starter kit?"

--A Pista, an iPod, a pair of skinny jeans, and an ironic t-shirt
--A six-pack of cheap domestic beer and an identity

--A keffiyeh, a pair of Chrome sneakers, and a set of toe clips

--A badly-worn 16 tooth cog and an STD

***Special Failing the Test of Time Retro "Collabo"-Themed Bonus Question***

The "PUMA x Vexed" cycling jacket from 2005 was designed for:

--"Keeping your identity hidden while throwing up a piece."

--"Keeping beardless fixed-gear riders warm on cold days."

--"Protecting urban riders from noxious emissions while skitching off buses and trucks."
--"Protection against hawk attacks, which have become increasingly common in urban areas."

Can I Have Your Autograph? What You're Really Paying For

(Cruelly denied Copenhagen-style footrests, New York City cyclists must stay upright manually.)

Further to yesterday's post, a number of people confirmed that the hawk I saw was in fact a so-called Red-tailed hawk. One of those people was the proprietor of the Urban Hawks blog, which I discovered when a reader posted it in the comments, and he tells me there are about 30 pairs of them living in the city. Also, another commenter recently posted a link to this item, which proves that on the spectrum of urban hawk encounters mine was actually quite mild.

In any case, while I love nature I have no intention of turning this into a naturalist blog, and so even though I witnessed a cheetah felling a gazelle on 6th Avenue this morning I will spare you the tedious details and vividly bloody photographs. Instead, I will share with you a photo of something that is even more common in New York City than hawk-maulings, which is graffiti:

People have widely-ranging feelings about graffiti: some feel it's a legitimate art form, and others feel it's an act of vandalism. I veer towards the latter, and I generally consider it an irritating form of visual spam. This particular piece of graffiti vexed me because it is the logo of the Dirty Rotten Imbeciles, a band who had their heyday back in the mid-1980s, and I couldn't help wondering who applied it and why. If it's someone who is a diehard DRI fan from "back in the day," then they've got to be pushing 40 by now and as such are way too old to be running around spray-painting band logos on trucks. Otherwise, it could be a young person who's recently discovered the rebellious music of the 80s, which is equally disappointing since it means the new generation of anti-establishment malcontents are not forming their own bands and creating their own logos and are living in the past instead of tearing it down. Really, the only two theories I could come up with that didn't bother me were: 1) the guy who owns the truck just really likes DRI; or 2) the truck is actually the DRI tour bus.

Speaking of pushing 40 and spray-painting stuff, frequent readers of this blog may know that I'm less than impressed with the work of "artist" Mike Giant, who tends to either copy the album art of bands from the DRI era, or appropriate the styles of Latin gangsters, or else paint things like this:

While I find most graffiti irritating, I don't find it all equally irritating, and I also believe it has at times been genuinely daring, subversive, and exciting. (Like 30 years ago in New York City, for example.) However, like any style-driven movement, much of its impact depends on its historical context and your perspective, and as we enter 2010 the act of writing your own name in big colorful bubble letters just seems a bit silly to me. As an act of personal expression, "writing your name really cool" is the sort of thing you engage in just after you outgrow drawing space cars with crayons and just before you start sprouting your first pubic hairs.

Of course, this is only my opinion, and it's only worth what you're paying to read this post. The truth is, if enough people out there like to see people writing their names really cool then that's what matters. And there's no doubt that they do. In fact, many people buy products simply based on who wrote their name on it and how, which is also called "branding." On Tuesday, I mentioned how bicycle companies try to use "branding" to create "icons." One example like this is the Specialized Langster City Editions, which are supposed to be special because of their decals. Here's one for sale on Craigslist:


Specialized Langster LONDON as new. Super sweet transportation - $700 (Tribeca Manhattan)
Date: 2010-01-20, 5:49PM EST
Reply to: [deleted]

As new size large. Simple sexy serious bike. Modified handlebar and brakes added. Carbon fiber fork and carbon fiber seat post. Free tune ups for 6 months.

FREE DELIVERY IN MANHATTAN
Keep in mind this is brand new and $1100+ in the store with the current options. Also this version was only made in 2008-2009 and now is a collectors item.

Balistic speeds are possible.

Asking $700 cash. See more bikes at our site http://www.spcarbon.com

An ad with a slogan as catchy as "Balistic speeds are possible" is clearly not the work of your average independent amateur Craigslist seller. No, this is clearly the product of a professional free classifieds retailer. By the way, you may think "balistic" is misspelled, but I'm guessing the seller wisely engineered it to be knuckle-tattoo compatible:

Get your own knuckles at the knuckle tattoo gun.

(speeds are)

Get your own knuckles at the knuckle tattoo gun.

Intrigued by the seller's savvy, I followed the URL contained in the post, which led me to the home of an operation called "SP Carbon Bicycles." I guess the "SP" stands for "spaceship," because it said "Tell them your riding a Spaceship™" at the bottom of the page. Here's what a Spaceship looks like:

If you're as impressed as I am, here's how you too can start a Craigslist bicycle company. First, get some of those unbranded crabon frames from Taiwan on eBay for a few hundred bucks:

Then, get a bunch of Specialized decals:


And lop off the "ecialized:"


Next, apply your decal, supplement with a smattering of mail-order components, and voila, your Spaceship is ready to launch:

(We have ripoff liftoff!)

Of course, when you buy a "real" Specialized you're getting a lot more, since you're paying a bunch of people to "write a name really cool" and integrate it much more neatly with the rest of the bike. Essentially, though, both companies are doing the same thing--branding. One's just much better at it than the other. You're paying a little for the smoothness of the ride, and a lot for the smoothness of the logo.