It started out a Thursday evening like any other. After concluding some undisclosed business on New York City's Manhattan Island (I won't say I'm not opening a restaurant that serves only locally-grown figs that I will call "FIGment of my Uh-Meh-Gination," but I won't say I am either), I stopped at a downtown haircuttery for a bloodletting and scalp massage. Locking my Scattante to a bike rack inhabited only by a solitary Pista, I entered the establishment, and when I returned to my bike a scant ten minutes later down about a quart or so and feeling delightfully lightheaded I found this:
Yes, my poor Scattante had become the olive loaf in a Crappy Bike Sandwich:
"Drat it!," I exclaimed, for if only the city had let David Byrne install more of his whimsically-shaped bike racks then perhaps this sort of parking crunch might have been averted:
Not only that, but more racks like this would also be a welcome addition for the city's many shoegazers:
(Lonely man staring at shoe.)
By the way, you might not know this, but David Byrne doesn't own a car:
("It's true, I really don't!")
Put that in your shoe and gaze at it.
Anyway, I had quite a conundrum on my hands, for while they hadn't actually locked their bikes to mine they had nevertheless wedged me in there pretty well, and how I would extricate mine was taxing my bloodletting-addled brain:
(Irreverent top tube sticker available here.)
The main problem was that I couldn't simply roll it forward, since the chain would garrotte the seatpost:
Moreover, there wasn't enough slack in the chain to lift it over the saddle, nor was there enough lateral clearance in the sandwich to sort of "wheelie" my bike out so that the saddle would kind of "limbo" under it. (I might have simply removed my saddle and seatpost, but I have of course duly theft-proofed them by means of a bicycle drivetrain because in New York they'll take the saddle right out from under your ass. I guess in retrospect I could have also lowered the saddle, but even then it might not have cleared, and, again, I was woozy from loss of blood.)
Therefore, I decided, the only solution would be to take both offending bicycles and simply lift them up and over the entire bike rack, like flipping back the cover on a spiral notebook:
Just as I was grabbing both the Huffy beach cruiser and the Schwinn mountain bike in order to hurl them onto the poor unsuspecting Pista, an unkempt fellow with a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth and a canned iced tea in his hand arrived on the scene. Yes, it was the sandwich artist himself, and he said, "Let me help you with that, man:"
As he unlocked the bikes, he said to me matter-of-factly, "The solution would have been to wheelie yours out," as though he had intentionally left this puzzle for me to solve like a teacher scrawling a math problem on the blackboard and then leaving the room. I explained to him that the wheelie would not have worked and that I was about to fling the bikes over the rack, to which he replied, "Yeah, that would have worked too." I further explained that the ideal solution would have been not to sandwich me like this in the first place, though this made him screw up his face in confusion, presumably because in his mind it would have required him to travel back in time, and if he had that power he probably wouldn't be hanging around here at all, he'd be playing Hacky Sack at a Phish concert somewhere. (This entire thought sequence was practically written on his face.) In any event, the conundrum was solved to everyone's mutual satisfaction, and I set off on my way, once again glad that I didn't own a $4,000 commuting bike.
Moreover, there wasn't enough slack in the chain to lift it over the saddle, nor was there enough lateral clearance in the sandwich to sort of "wheelie" my bike out so that the saddle would kind of "limbo" under it. (I might have simply removed my saddle and seatpost, but I have of course duly theft-proofed them by means of a bicycle drivetrain because in New York they'll take the saddle right out from under your ass. I guess in retrospect I could have also lowered the saddle, but even then it might not have cleared, and, again, I was woozy from loss of blood.)
Therefore, I decided, the only solution would be to take both offending bicycles and simply lift them up and over the entire bike rack, like flipping back the cover on a spiral notebook:
Just as I was grabbing both the Huffy beach cruiser and the Schwinn mountain bike in order to hurl them onto the poor unsuspecting Pista, an unkempt fellow with a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth and a canned iced tea in his hand arrived on the scene. Yes, it was the sandwich artist himself, and he said, "Let me help you with that, man:"
As he unlocked the bikes, he said to me matter-of-factly, "The solution would have been to wheelie yours out," as though he had intentionally left this puzzle for me to solve like a teacher scrawling a math problem on the blackboard and then leaving the room. I explained to him that the wheelie would not have worked and that I was about to fling the bikes over the rack, to which he replied, "Yeah, that would have worked too." I further explained that the ideal solution would have been not to sandwich me like this in the first place, though this made him screw up his face in confusion, presumably because in his mind it would have required him to travel back in time, and if he had that power he probably wouldn't be hanging around here at all, he'd be playing Hacky Sack at a Phish concert somewhere. (This entire thought sequence was practically written on his face.) In any event, the conundrum was solved to everyone's mutual satisfaction, and I set off on my way, once again glad that I didn't own a $4,000 commuting bike.
Thusly liberated, I'm pleased to present you with a quiz. As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer. If you're right rejoice, and if you're wrong you'll see Bicycle Hell.
Thanks very much for reading, ride safe, and may your bike sandwiches be open-faced.
1) Why is Steven Spirn "emotionally tense and frightened?"
--False
--False
4) NPR recently reported that Portland, OR is:
("Seatpost clamp/bottle opener?!? Can I get an a-meh?")
5) If there's one thing cycling needs, it's more color-coordinated accessories that also open beer.
--True
--False
6) The unique "angle of attack" of the Nectar and Elixir seatpost clamp/bottle openers encourage rider sobriety by making you spill half your beer as you open it.
--True
***Special Fred Taxonomy-Themed Bonus Question***
(What's the point of a credit card you can't buy porn with?)
What do you call a Fred wearing this jersey?
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