Ground Beef: Crash Course in Bottom Bracket Interfaces

With the possible exceptions of the Mr. Softee theme and crotchal fungus, there is no surer sign that summer has begun in earnest than the start of the Tour de France. And there is no surer sign that the cycling media wants to entice laypeople with their Tour de France coverage than when they start rolling out the "crash porn." For the non-cycling sports fan, the idea of following the multiple competitions of which the Tour is comprised over a period of weeks has about as much appeal as actuarial science, so the thinking with "crash porn" is that they'll at least consider tuning in to see one of those "woosies" in Lycra they like to buzz with their SUVs take a spill. Here's some gratuitous "crash porn" from Versus:


As well as from Bicycling magazine:

As a cyclist and a cycling fan, I'm somewhat offended by "crash porn." Sure, crashes can be dramatic, and they're undeniably a part of the sport, but using carnage to sell the Tour seems a bit short-sighted to me. At best, watching the Tour de France for the crashes is like watching the Academy Awards in the hopes that you'll catch a "nipple slip"--it's just not a very good use of your time, and if that's all you're going in for you'll probably be disappointed. If you want to see crashes, go to a Cat 4 race, and if you want to see nipples, watch actual pornography. In any case, there's already a sporting event based entirely on carnage and "nipple slips," and it's called the Superbowl.

Really, if the cycling media wants to reduce the Tour de France to its most visceral components and burn off all subtlety, nuance, and good taste in the process, they might as well just do post-stage analyses of the riders' dirty chamoises. In fact, I'm surprised they haven't already, since judging from this Craigslist post I found in the comments to yesterday's post there appears to be a brisk market for that sort of thing:

Bib-Shorts; Owned, worn & signed by Lance Armstrong!!! - $3000
Date: 2010-06-30, 9:16AM EDT
Reply to: [deleted]

Would you like to be one of the few to own Lance's actual bib-shorts. Owned and worn by Lance, I got them through a friend of his, then had them signed. Also had them sent to have the signature Authenticated to solve any question of legitimacy.
Be one of the few to have an item owned and signed by a legend.... Who is still racing and about to do another Tour De France!

$3000 is starting bid, will close with best offer..... These will be on ebay by next week if not sold on CL.


The disgustingness of owning somebody else's used bib shorts aside, this stomach-turning post raises more questions than it answers. Firstly, the seller claims that he "got them through a friend of his, then had them signed," and I wonder what friend of Armstrong's is distributing his shorts. Does Kevin Livingston loiter around the laundry hamper at Pedal Hard and pilfer the clothing of notable clients? Secondly, the seller says he "then had them signed"--though apparently not in person, since he subsequently "had them sent to have the signature Authenticated to solve any question of legitimacy." How, then, did the seller get the shorts back to Armstrong, and what was Armstrong's reaction when his own filthy shorts came back to him for signature like some sort of soiled, smegma-ridden boomerang? And where is this signature authentication service, and did they also authenticate the residual pubic hairs? (If the signature is Armstrong's but the pubes belong to, say, Roberto Heras, does this increase or decrease the value?) I particularly appreciated the caveat that "the shorts will be on ebay next week if not sold on CL," since I now know which websites to avoid in coming weeks. This probably won't happen though, since I fully expect them to be snapped up by Paul Kimmage before then, who will probably send the skid marks to a laboratory for analysis. In any case, $3,000 is pretty steep for a pair of used shorts, and if you want Lance Armstrong's dirty laundry you can just get it from Floyd Landis, who seems to be giving it away for free.

Speaking of using porn to sell things, bicycle manufacturers continue to evoke the salacious appeal of the oversized bottom bracket, and French company Look has apparently unleashed the most swollen and robust bottom bracket the world has ever seen:

So "beefy" is the mighty BB65 that it will only accept the "Zed2" crankset, which means that no matter what you're riding right now your crank is too small for this bicycle. That's right--now that the Look 695 has "dropped," if you're riding anything else you have a tiny crank. Until you "upgrade," your diminutive unit can never hope to fill a BB65--even if it is big enough for Cannondale's "Hot Box" (forwarded to me some time ago by a reader):

All You Haters Sandwich My Hot Box.

Best of all the 695 is available in two "stiffness options:"

That 15% reduction in stiffness you'll feel on the regular 695 is equal to the erection-reducing effect one (1) Larry King:

(Larry King: an elastomer insert for your libido.)

Incidentally, Larry King has just announced he is officially retiring in order to censor pornographic images full-time.

But what do you do if you have an older Look that suddenly feels all "noodly," like it's been subject to upwards of four Larry King Stiffness-Reducing Units (or LKSRUs)? Well, without the BB65 interface there's no way it will ever be adequately stiff, but you can still attempt to"improve" matters via judicious application of "upgrades." Consider this promotional video for the SRAM Omnium crank from New York City fixed-gear boutique Chari & Co.:

SRAM OMNIUM CRANK from chariandconyc on Vimeo.

In it you'll find this compelling testimonial:

"This bike that I'm riding now gets me to and from work most days...I spend a lot of time riding into the city every day over the Manhattan bridge. These cranks together with this frame is the stiffest thing I've ever ridden."

Because when you're riding a race bike back and forth to work every day in sneakers, you need all the stiffness you can get to beat that guy on the hybrid.

Still, there are times when you need a high performance bicycle even if you're not racing. For example, every bit of stiffness counts when you're sprinting away from a bank after robbing it:

Cunningly, the thief disguised himself as a "secret website" catalog model:

Instead of blaming the thief, I blame the cruel society that drove him to it. It was probably a "Dog Day Afternoon" scenario, except instead of funding his partner's sex change he needed the money for a costly bottom bracket interface "upgrade."

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Take Me to the River!

Just about the only thing saving my sanity during the awful heatwave we are having in Vienna, is the splendid and beautiful Danube. The Danube River and the Danube Canal run through the length of the city, and the bicycle paths along them are extremely useful for travel from one neighborhood to another. The streets of Vienna may be choking with exhaust fumes and the asphalt may be melting from the heat, but the cycle paths by the river are leafy and breezy. And they can take you from the center of town to the serene countryside in as little as 30 minutes!

A couple of days ago, Anna (from Cycling is Good for You) and I escaped Vienna for a trip to the country, swapping bicycles while we were at it. But I will have to postpone writing about that, because I am off to a conference in Romania (which, incidentally, is accessible via the very Danube bicycle path that runs through Vienna). I enjoy knowing that I can get on the river path around the corner from my house, and just keep going for days until I reach either the Black Forest in Germany, or the Black Sea in Romania. And this is the same bike path on which I commute to work! Magical.

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Groping for Answers: Crooked Letters and Lopsided Reasoning

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Do We Care If They See Our Underwear?

[image via velo-mama]

Ah, the topic of underpant visibility whilst cycling in a skirt! It is truly one of which we lady cyclists never seem to tire. Some enthusiastically discuss methods of tying down the skirt so as to curb its treacherous revelations. Others advocate wearing leggings. But as I cycled to various meetings in different parts of Vienna today in insane mid-day heat, I suddenly simply did not care. And neither, I noticed, did any of the Viennese ladies on bicycles around me. And, more importantly still, neither did the men.

[image via eva-lu]

Noticing this made me think about why it is that we tend to be so concerned about whether our underpants are showing as we cycle. Is it a personal sense of modesty? Or is it because of how men look at us? For me, I have to say it is the latter. In the US, if I am not wearing leggings under a skirt while cycling, it is almost inevitable that a man will shout something at me or meaningfully look at me in a way that I find unpleasant. That is why I wear leggings, and not because I am inherently ashamed to show my underwear. Despite the theoretical progress in gender relations, I think it is unsafe to evoke a curiosity about my anatomy in strange men.

By comparison, in Vienna the men don't seem too interested in examining women cycling in skirts. Perhaps it is a deep-rooted cultural difference when it comes to gender relations, or perhaps it has something to do with the fact that there is a nudist beach just down the river. Whatever the reason, it is a welcome relief. If they don't care, then honestly - I don't either. If only that sense of liberation were enough to deal with this horrible heatwave!

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Manufacturers to Riders: Go Sponsor Yourself

As humans, we all possess the innate ability to delude ourselves. This self-delusion is necessary to get through life, for the reality of our universal insignificance untempered by the illusion of importance would cause most of us to realize that effort of any sort in the face of our frivolity is completely absurd. What really is the point of, say, going to work, or cleaning the bathroom, or fastidiously grooming one's pubic hair, when eventually we will all meet the same end and be consigned to the grave like so much mulch? Indeed, without self-delusion we'd all be like Bartleby in that Melville story, saying "I prefer not to" when presented with any task. For this reason, self-delusion is as involuntary as any bodily function regulated by the medulla oblongata, since the very future of our species depends on it.

Of course, life isn't all self-delusion; there's also recreation, and doing stuff for the sheer delight and pleasure of it. Pushing our body's happy buttons with a cool swim on a hot day, or a fermented drink containing ethanol, or even just some good old-fashioned genital manipulation can elicit the sort of enjoyment that transcends angst and that does not need to be reconciled against the overbearing reality of our inconsequence. It is at these moments when we inhabit the intoxicating twilight between delusion and insignificance, and dwell fleetingly in joy. Riding a bicycle too can be one of these sources of "no strings attached" delight.

But what if you don't enjoy "joy," and you insist on applying the yardstick of self-delusion against even the simple act of recreation? Well, for these people, there is amateur road racing, a world in which even a Cat 4 cannot be coaxed onto a bicycle unless the effort it takes to propel that bicycle is measured with an electronic device so it can be downloaded later and compared to the effort expended on previous rides. This sort of behavior--the quantifying of our own fruitlessness--would appear to be the very pinnacle of self-delusion. It's like keeping a masturbation journal in which you document the duration of your "sessions" and the volume of your "issue."

So if some of us find our own fruitless behavior so compelling, then naturally the behavior of professional cyclists would seem almost sacred, and I pondered all of this while perusing the latest issue of Rouleur while sitting on the toilet:

I thrill to professional cycling as much as any fan, but I realize when I read Rouleur that I do not take it nearly seriously enough. This lavish periodical doesn't simply report or comment on the sport; instead, it fawns over it, slavers on it, and fondles it like it's Humbert Humbert and professional cycling is Lolita. In Rouleur, the simple washing of a race bike becomes akin to Mary Magdalene washing Jesus's feet. This is not to say Rouleur is a bad publication; far from it. Many people share this view of professional cycling and Rouleur articulates it like no other. If you thrive on the history, imagery, and lore of the sport you will certainy enjoy it. However, I can't even take the Bible seriously, much less bike racing, so when I read Rouleur I generally feel like a child sitting in a religious service and trying not to laugh.

Also fascinating to me are the advertisements in this and other cycling publications, and the way in which the simple tools the professionals use to ply their trade is like unto gold, frankincence, and myrhh ("myrrh" was an early form of crabon fribé) for the self-deluded. Yes, you too can own an "Asymmetrical Dogma" (only $17,900 with Di2), just like the one Bradley Wiggins hardly cares he's riding. (Incidentally, "Asymmetrical Dogma" is also a pretty good summary of the Bible.) The difference, of course, is that the pros get it for free in addition to their salary, but if you want it you have to "Sponsor Yourself:"

("Sponsoring Yourself" is Foffing Off 2.0.)

This ad in particular caught my eye, not only because Assos clothes are apparently designated by "clima range" and require use of specific "body insulators," but also because the model's left foot hangs mysteriously next to his pedal:

This seems an odd detail for Assos to have overlooked. I suppose he could be in the process of clipping in, but judging from the model's expression and position on the bike it looks like he's supposed to evoke that moment in the local group ride that everyone drives to in BMWs just after the roll-out and just before the first town line sprint. The conversations about home improvements have ended and the leadouts have begun, so he certainly would have been securely clipped in for some time now. My best guess is that he was simply standing on a little prop, which was subsequently erased by somebody who does not understand how a pedal works.

Of course, if you really want to be like the pros, you should buy a Madone from the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company. Until now, their proprietary broken steer tube technology was only available to top riders like George Hincapie:


Now, however, you too can apparently experience the thrill of mid-race handlebar detachment with the new Madone:

Strangely though, instead of touting this as a feature, the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company is "going all Mavic" and blaming the consumer:

Trek says over-tightening stem bolts, incorrectly placing spacers above and below the stem, and using incompatible stems can all cause point loading (uneven clamping force) on the steerer tube, weakening it and causing it to break.

“As the technology going into today’s bicycles has increased, so has the responsibility of the mechanic and rider to follow the manufacturer’s installation instructions exactly,” reads Trek’s statement. “This issue is not unique to Trek, but is specific to carbon steerers from every manufacturer.”

Bryan Vaughan’s FSA Plasma stem after his steerer tube broke.

According to Trek, there are three keys to safe and successful installation of a stem on a carbon steerer:

1) Always use a torque wrench, and never over-tighten stem clamp bolts.
2) Always use spacers above and below the stem. Although less obvious than correct torque, a minimum of 5mm and a maximum of 40mm spacers under the steerer, plus a 5mm spacer above the stem are required. Riders should factor in these spacers when sizing their bike.
3) Use only the stem brand and model that came with the bike, because not all stems will work with carbon steerers. Often the lighter the stem, the less chance it will be compatible with a carbon steerer. Weight-relieving cutouts on the stem clamp and steerer interface can create stress risers.

Vaughan’s FSA stem was incompatible with the steerer, Trek said.

The part about the stem is particularly audacious, and I wonder if there is a comprehensive list of stems that are incompatible with Trek steerers, or if Trek simply waits for failures asks what kind of stem was involved, and then says, "That one." Cunningly, they've also added the torque-and-spacer qualifiers, so even if the failure occurs with a stock stem they can point to faulty installation. Most interestingly, “As the technology going into today’s bicycles has increased, so has the responsibility of the mechanic and rider to follow the manufacturer’s installation instructions exactly,” which means that in 10 years we should finally see the advent of the completely unrideable, proprietary, and non-serviceable road bike.

Fortunately, not all bicycle engineering comes at the expense of durability. Consider this "tiger bike," spotted by a reader in Portland:

Complete with integrated tail/wheelbrow, the "tiger bike" makes a compelling argument for emulating not professional cyclists but, rather, the beauty of nature. Also, it goes great with this:

Tiger shirts are ideal when even Primal jerseys are too subtle.

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In Da House

So, apparently even in Vienna I am incapable of riding just one bike. Now I have Jacqueline the lady's Waffenrad and Kurt the trackbike living with me. Jacqueline stays in the courtyard, chained to a pipe. Kurt leads a pampered lifestyle indoors.

Here are his posh private quarters, under the loft stairs and on my housemate's nice rug. Amazingly, she does not object to her new tenant.

I have been riding Kurt every day after work since having gotten him on Monday, but today my legs demanded a break. My "adventures" so far have included getting a flat 5 miles from home and learning why tubular tires outside the track are not a great idea (you can't patch them up). With the rim and tire combination on this bike, it is actually okay to cycle on a flat slowly, and that is how I got home. But my hands were not too happy after the "vibrant" ride of shame. Later, Wolfgang switched out my entire front wheel for another one with an intact tire. I am guessing they don't make tubular tires with kevlar, eh?

Another fun thing that happened, was that the bolt came off one of my rear drop-outs and I did not notice until much later. I am guessing this happened from riding on potholes. Thankfully, the bolt on the other side of the wheel remained securely attached, but it was still scary to see. Today I bought a replacement (good Lord, Campagnolo bolts are expensive!), so all is well. From now on I will inspect the bike carefully before taking it out - which, I am realising, is something one needs to do on a bicycle like this.

I have been delighted to discover that the geometry of this bicycle activates the thigh muscles in a way that after 5 days I can already see a difference in the contours of my legs - very nice. Kurt is welcome in my house any time - I just hope he has the good manners to keep his bolts on and his tires inflated!

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BSNYC Frigedæg Blētsung Cunnian!

(My blog's value, forwarded by a reader. Time to cash in and retire to Portland.)

Recently, I heard from a reader who had ordered my book (that's "Bike Snob," and not my other book, "1,000 Delicious Sardine Recipes") from a popular online retailer. It seems he had not yet received the book, and wondered if I had perhaps somehow run afoul of this retailer. Incidentally, if you haven't figured out the retailer to whom I'm referring, it's the one whose name is also the first word in the title of a 1987 cinema classic:

I'm happy to report that this is not the case (at least as far as I know) and that the retailer and I are on good terms. In fact, what has happened is that, due to the fact that the book is a bit more popular than anticipated, both the retailer and my publisher have (as they say in book publishing) "run out of copies." This is what's called a "good problem," like being unable to fold your wallet because you have too much cash, or when attractive naked people keep falling on top of you at the beach (neither of which has ever happened to me).

Rest assured that my publisher is making more copies as I type this and that the aforementioned retailer (as well as other retailers that are out of stock, such as the one that shares a name with the last word in in the name of the organization "Doctors Without Borders") shall have more in the not-too-distant future. In the meantime, if you prefer not to wait yet enjoy purchasing books on the Internet, I understand you can get copies now from a certain bookseller that can be expressed in pictogram form thusly:

Or, you can order them from the esteemed independent Portland bookstore Powell's. Not only do they still have copies in stock, but these copies have been defaced by me since Powell's made me sign them all when I was there last Sunday:

(My book at Powell's.)

Otherwise, you can of course always simply visit your favorite local bookseller and see if they have any copies, though that might require putting on pants.

As for "1,000 Delicious Sardine Recipes," thanks to a profound lack of demand copies should be readily available anyplace books are sold, and I hear most retailers are even running a "Buy One, Get 40 Free" special.

Speaking of "sardine porn," I'm also a tremendous fan of "street sign porn." This refers to the exuberant displays of bicycular absurdity so often pole dancing on the signage of our nation's cities and towns, and I've been fortunate enough to receive some salacious examples of street sign porn from readers over the past few weeks. Just some of these include the always pleasing "capsized Vespa:"

(All You Haters Right My Vespa)

The ill-fitting "tarck" bike complete with "One Less Car" top tube pad and headtube-mounted beverage cozy:

(Sometimes, one more car is actually preferable.)

And of course the homemade locking grip:


Not only are sponge grips highly absorbent, but they are also cheap and come in a variety of "colorways."

In any case, as two days of "weekend porn" await your wildest fantasies, I'm pleased to present you with a quiz. As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer. If you're right you'll know, and if you're wrong you'll see smugness gone horribly awry.

Thanks very much for reading, thanks for forwarding some of the "quiz porn" which follows, and, most importantly, ride safe this weekend.

--BSNYC/RTMS

(Tony Hayward thinks about yachting.)

1) In the wake of the BP disaster, the real tragedy may be:

--The long-term damage to the environment

--The long-term damage to the economy

--The long-term damage to the credibility of the current administration

--The protest songs

2) According to a study commissioned by schmutz-filled pretzel manufacturer Combos, the least "manly" city in the United States is:

--Portland

--New York City

--Denver

--Seattle

3) How can you support this bike messenger in San Francisco?

--Bring him a free burrito

--Make a documentary film about him

--Pay him to deliver something for you even though it would be far easier to send it by email

--Buy his spot on the line for the new iPhone

(Really, is that what you call it?)

4) Dainty racks are Messenger Bags 2.0.

--True
--False

(Fungal culture)

5) At last! Bike culture meets:

--Sneaker culture

--Wristwatch culture

--Horticulture

--RV culture

6) Which high-end crabon fribé road bicycle has been plagued by a rash of broken steerers?

--Trek's Madone

--Specialized's Tarmac

--Cannondale's Super Six

--Scattante's Scatman Crothers

7) Rock Racing's Michael Ball has been implicated in a:

--Doping investigation

--Sexual harassment suit
--Tax fraud suit

--Ménage à quatre

***Special Odd Reasoning-Themed Bonus Question***

("I sure hope someone left a bike for me.")

"Good news for the resurrected!" New York City ghost bikes can remain as long as they are:

--White

--In good condition

--Moved regularly in accordance with alternate-side parking rules

--Fixed-gears

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