Subjective Realities: Lifestyles of the Dandy and Eccentric

In yesterday's post, entitled "America: The Wonderful World of Tube-Shaped Meats and Canned Cheeses," I posted the following picture:

And then made the following flippant remark:

I'm not one for fawning over bicycles, but I do believe that our bikes communicate with us, and what this bike is saying is, "You're an idiot."

Subsequently, a commenter made the following observation:

Bobby said...

Saying these woodland downhilling fixie hipsters are idiots because they burn through tires is a lot like saying rally car drivers are idiots because they damage their vehicles. Burnt tires don't detract from the physicality of the riders, the art in the way in which they've chosen to connect to their machines, and the rush of participating in risk-taking behavior. No, not idiots...

August 9, 2011 3:48 PM

I've never been one to shy away from intelligent discourse--provided of course that such discourse centers around an elementary subject, such as which packaged snack food is more delicious, or who was the best blonde on "Three's Company." (I gotta go with Terri on that one, she had a career and thus was the most empowering.) Beyond that, I'm hopelessly out of my depth.

Nevetheless, Bobby's comment made me think. (It also made me drool, because I drool when I think. Also, I have trouble thinking and typing at the same ditniewfnnn.) Mostly, what I thought was that the hillbombers are nothing like rally car drivers, since rally car drivers use specialized equipment on closed courses and the hillbombers use the most ill-suited equipment possible on public roads. Actually, in my opinion, the hillbombers are more like unlicensed drivers in Formula One cars with no brakes who are rallying in a national park. At best, maybe they're the guy in your neighborhood with the flat-brim hat and the Honda Civic who's into "drifting" and winds up in the New York Post because he slammed into a gas station at 4am.

Still, I do think Bobby makes an interesting point, which is that when it comes to sporting endeavors "idiotic" is highly subjective, and that one person's pastime is another person's idiocy. I mean, there are people out there who believe that anybody who rides a bike is an idiot. (These people are called "Americans.") So why is whip-skidding down a mountain idiotic, but barreling down one on a full-suspension bicycle is not? (Depending on whether or not you think downhill mountain biking is idiotic, which is a whole other debate.)

Well, after giving it about 19 seconds of thought, I came up with a criterion (not a criterium) for what constitutes silly recreational cycling behavior--at least for me. It's not meant to be a judgment; rather, it's my own personal way of qualifying my own opinions. Basically, my criterion for silly cycling is this:

If it's a type of riding that is already well-established, only you're using the wrong bike for it, then it's silly.

See? Simple. For example:

--Doing tricks on BMX bikes=not silly. Doing tricks on fixed-gear bikes=silly.

--Commuting on commuter bikes=not silly. Commuting on custom titanium bikes=silly.

--Riding downhill fast on bikes with brakes=not silly. Riding downhill fast on bikes with no brakes=silly.

Sure, I know what you're thinking: "Who's to say what's the 'wrong' bike? What about my rad-tastic mountain-bike-trail-on-a-cyclocross-bike 'epic,' or my compulsion to be the token singlespeeder at any competitive cycling event?" Well, rest assured I don't mean using a bike that's perhaps not optimal--I mean, we all enjoy a challenge. Still, I do think there's a point at which the bike you're using is just wrong, and one of the signs of this is when you like riding bikes downhill but your tire frequently explodes in high-speed situations, leaving you with no other means of slowing the bike:

Of course, it's human nature to want to do things "wrong." We are genetically programmed to disregard sound advice from more experienced people and instead repeat their mistakes. This is why, despite all our nifty technology, our collective consciousness is only slightly more elevated than it was thousands of years ago. Basically, the human condition consists of doing really stupid stuff over and over again, and as such our advancement is barely perceptible. It's sort of an "intellectual creep." I guess that's what happens when you have to spread a learning curve over billions of people. Anyway, "intellectual creep" is why we're all still looting and killing each other, and it's also why it will take these hillbombers years before one of them realizes, "Hey, why don't we try this on road bikes?"

Anyway, if the hillbombing bike is saying "You're an idiot," what is this bike saying?



The above bicycle was photographed by a reader in (I shouldn't even have to bother typing the next word) Portland. I suspect it actually fell from the future through a wormhole in time, and that it's actually the Flying Pigeon Coquettish Hilpstress's bike 20 years from now--you know, when she has 19 cats, her apartment has gone from "shabby chic" to just plain shabby, and she is officially eccentric.

Still, I have no idea what the bike is saying, for it speaks of a lifestyle I'm simply not equipped to envision:

I mean, I know abstractly that people in Portland lead the kind of lifestyles that require them to carry bird cages and tattered paperbacks and whimsical tapestries and multiple yoga mats and plastic bags full of fanzines and a whole lot of what at least appears to be burlap, but I can't imagine what it would actually be like to be such a person in the same way I'll never truly understand what it feels like to, say, be a dolphin, or to be sand on a beach. Like, what does this person actually think about in the morning? Do they soberly and rationally think, "OK, better load up the Peugeot with delightful bric-a-brac since I have a hard day of reading, stretching, sack racing, and general pretending ahead of me"? Or is it simply instinctual and mindless animal behavior, like the way magpies steal shiny things?



Honestly, it's impossible for me to say, though I do suspect the New York City equivalent of this person is the "dandy" who has his dandying supplies delivered by bicycle, a service of which I was informed by another reader:



This is terrific news if you ever find yourself on a naked ride that gets harassed by the cops, because with a simple phone call you can place an order and transform it into a tweed ride. Still this operation clearly has no credibility, since no self-respecting dandy would either ride or accept a delivery from what at least appears to be an ill-fitting "vintage"-styled Huffy.



Also, how would you know that your toe finally poked through your sock if you were at work? Presumably you'd be wearing your shoes, so you really wouldn't have any idea. Or do dandies tend to work shoeless? For that matter, do dandies even work? I thought they just spent their days at roll-top desks writing letters to relatives on expensive stationary asking them for advances on their trusts.



Equally vexing is the mystery of this cockpit, which was forwarded to me by yet another reader:





I don't know what purpose this structure serves, but I do know PVC is the crabon of the DIY cockpit enthusiast.

Read more »

Transcendence: Where There's a Quill There's a Way

In yesterday's post, I included a picture of a woman in Portland whose "coin slot" was obscured by a copy of the book "Ceremony" by Leslie Marmon Silko. Here in New York, however, the weather is far less conducive to paperback portaging or exposing the small of your back. Indeed, the only "coin slot"-spotting to be done around here these days is this:

Notice that the meter is enshrouded in ice, due to the freezing rain that is falling upon this miserable metropolis even as I type. The sidewalks are faring no better than the parking meters, either, and as I set out this morning to procure diapers for my helper monkey, Vito, I derned near slipped and busted my "coin slot:"

There would have been small change everywhere. I really should put some tampons on my shoes like the mountain climbers do.

With walking this treacherous, and conditions generally this unpleasant, even the most smug and dedicated commuter could be forgiven for leaving his or her bicycle at home and instead dreaming of better days while rubbing thighs with the rest of humanity on the subway. Hopefully these better days are not far away, either. As it happens, today was "The Groundhog's Day," a holiday that commemorates the day almost 20 years ago now on which the groundhogs of the world rose up against their human oppressors and emerged from the resulting bloodbath as the supreme beings on the planet Earth. Of course, before our groundhog overlords start getting drunk and throwing bottles at us, they like to tell us whether or not we will have an early spring, and this year it seems that two out of three "groundhogs of record" agree that we will:

Puxata Punksa Pennsylvania Phil:

Early spring? Yes!

Staten Island Chuck:

Early spring? Yes!

Cincinnati Frank:

Early spring? Unnnnnnnghhhhhhhh...

By the way, if you ever encounter Cincinnati Frank while you're out on a ride and he tries to "prognosticate" on your head, you might want to defend yourself with a "vintage" French Velo Dog revolver:

I was informed of the above by a reader, who mentioned it subsequent to Jeff Underwood's somewhat distorted claims about cockpit-mounted turrets or whatever it was he was talking about. It seems to me that vintage bicycle-themed firearms are ripe for hipster appropriation, and are the perfect accessory to complement that French porteur bike and that artisanal axe. It's only a matter of time before someone in Portland starts fabricating a modern version to market to the "bike culture," though obviously it will have to have a bottle opener on it since apparently bottle openers are the new "lawyer lips."

Fun legal fact: If Clarence Darrow sees his shadow there will be six more weeks of jury deliberation.

Speaking of prognostications, I'm what they call a "realist," and as such I don't buy into pagan myths about rodents seeing their shadows, or lightning happening when Thor Hushovd does intervals, or "evolution." (All Lob-fearing Crustaceanians know that the Almighty Lobster created the Earth in two and a half minutes while watching "Three's Company" and killing time during the commercials. A-meh.) I do, however, believe in the Lone Wolf, and a reader recently sent me actual video he captured of the Lone Wolf himself in full flight astride his White Lotus of Truth:



Notice how our cinematographer struggles valiantly to get on his wheel, though of course he cannot, since even Fabian Cancellara couldn't hope to catch him. The Lone Wolf's minute man is the speed of light, and he runs with the power of a billion Gruber Assists. To actually ride on his wheel would be like staring into the "Coin Slot" of the Universe and suddenly grasping all its secrets. Also, if he sees his shadow, it means six more weeks of suspension for Alberto Contador.

Certainly then the time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork is like unto the Lone Wolf as the snowflake is to the Antarctic ice shelf, and ubiquity cannot compete with omniscience and omnipotence. (Omnipotence comes from riding a bicycle with a poorly-positioned saddle.) Still, the retro-Fred is a compelling figure nonetheless, and the proprietor of the esteemed blog Cycling Inquisition has actually uncovered the man behind the camera in front of which the retro-Fred posed:

He is Ljupco Smokovski of Macedonia, he is the Annie Liebovitz of stock Fred photography, and he likes hats. He is also not a prognosticator of anything, because oddly he casts no shadow whatsoever.

Speaking of miserable weather, it seems that "NYC's Direct Action Environmental Organization," Times Up!, as they put it, "gathered on the Williamsburg and Manhattan Bridges to give cyclists 'Token Tickets of Love' for braving both the weather and antagonistic conditions to ride their bikes to and from work:"



I think I'd rather be stopped by the NYPD than accosted by a bunch of self-satisfied smug-mongers handing out "love tickets" or repurposed chocolate Hanukkah gelt or whatever it was they were doing. I didn't cross the Big Skanky on Monday, but I imagine if I had and had run into this scene it would have felt like what Cincinnati Frank was doing to that other dog's head. This is of course the same organization that held the "funeral" for that Williamsburg bike lane:



And who gives fake tickets to drivers in the bike lane while dressed as clowns:

If acting like a total buffoon had the power to transform society than Ernest P. Worrell would have won the Nobel Prize by making movies like "Ernest Goes to Somalia." If Time's Up! are looking to land a cameo in the next installment of the "Scary Movie" franchise then they should keep up the good work, but if they're looking to change the world they might want to try a different approach. Anwar El Sadat, Mohandas Gandhi, and Martin Luther King were from different cultures and fought for different causes, but they all had one thing in common: not one of them wore clown pants.

Anyway, thanks, Times Up!, for ensuring that when police and irate motorists see me riding in the city they'll think of annoying clowns. That ought to put me on the receiving end of some real respect.

Speaking of respect, I have immense respect for the people of Norway, who may very well be the most innovative cockpit curators in all the world. For example, you may recall the amazing "puppeteer" setup that was the catalyst for the "Cockie" awards. Well, further to yesterday's post concerning the "Quillinator," another reader in Norway informs me that it is not in fact "the one, the ONLY," as Soma claims:


Note how the curator has modified a threadless stem to accept a quill of truly Rivendellian proportions:

Clearly when it comes to cockpits, Norwegians are simply operating on another level--and it's at least three feet higher than their saddles.

Read more »

The Vexed Files: Time Travelers and Lotus-Eaters

If, by no fault of your own, you live in either the UK or Australia (or a non-North American UK Commonwealth nation, such as Tuvulu, which I understand has a very vibrant "bike culture") I'm pleased to let you know that the Hardie Grant edition of my book (I forget the title--"Bike" something, I think) should be available from your bookseller of choice as of like yesterday. Also, if you live in Australia and listen to the radio, you may have heard my Australian radio debut on the ABC Radio National show "Life Matters." (I did the interview last night, but due to the time difference I believe people in Australia were actually hearing me two Wednesdays from now.) In any case, if you missed it, you can listen to it here; or, if you don't care, you can watch this instead.

Meanwhile, closer to (my) home, today is Election Day, and like any civic-minded person I woke up early and visited my local polling place. I must say that, for a so-called "democracy," our electoral system is a disgrace. For example, the ballot I was given was inordinately confusing--I mean, I couldn't even find the part where you vote for President! Obama's name was nowhere on the ballot--it was just a bunch of nobodies and weird offices nobody's ever heard of, like "Governor." But I couldn't find Arnold Schwarzenegger's name either, even though he's the Governor of America (Canada's food-besmirched bib), so in the end I just voted "C" for everything, like I did on the SATs. (Unless I saw a picture of a pot leaf, then I voted for that.) Then, just when I thought I was done, I turned the form over to the other side where there were supposed to be a bunch of "propositions" and saw this:

Like seriously, WTF? I should just find myself a nice dictatorship to move to and be done with it.

Speaking of elections, I recently announced the winners of The First (And Last) Annual BSNYC/RTMS Cockpit of the Year Awards (or "Cockies"), sponsored by the Just Coffee Cooperative, and the results are already causing controversy. I recently received an email from the "Boston Bike Drummer," who had this to say:

Dear BikeSnob,

I am extremely disappointed with your decision to remove my bicycle, the one with the bucket drum from the running for best "Freestyle" Cockpit setup, and have expressed my discontent on my own bike blog. I ask that my cockpit be reconsidered. Here's a much better photo of my cockpit.

Sincerely, Boston Bike Drummer.

The cockpit to which he is referring is this one:

And was in fact submitted by the very same person who submitted the profoundly vexing "???," which ultimately took second place:

In my defense, the reason I ultimately eliminated the "Boston Bike Drummer's" percussive cockpit was that I didn't think it was fair to allow a submitter to field two finalists, and I ultimately decided that "???" was the more compelling submission. And while the "Boston Bike Drummer" does make a compelling case, I ultimately stand by my decision--though the results might have been different had he submitted this video:



Or maybe not. Either way, the only thing it's safe to say at this point is that democracy doesn't work.



Meanwhile, on a more positive note, I was amazed to learn that the "Cockies" actually made the news--albeit in Bozeman, MT:

I was moved by Mr. Haraldson's kind words, especially after being taken to task by the "Boston Bike Drummer," and had I known he held me in such high esteem I almost certainly would have rigged the election so that he won first prize, so desperate am I for approbation. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this article though is that the Bozeman Daily Chronicle would run it at all, and clearly there must be very little happening in Bozeman. Honestly, this is one step up from "Local Supermarket Receives New Shipment of Prunes." Fortunately though (at least from a news perspective) there seems to be a lot more going on today, for not only do they have an election to cover, but ace reporter Daniel Person has also gotten the sensational "scoop" on a possible brucellosis outbreak:

In fact, it would appear that brucellosis is spread by elk, which means that if the owner of the "Antlers Sur L'Herbe" bike hasn't been wearing latex gloves while riding he could be in serious trouble. In any case, I trust the Bozeman Daily Chronicle will keep us apprised, and I'm proud to at least be tangentially involved in a possible pandemic.

Meanwhile, you may have heard about that supposed time traveler who was spotted yakking on a cellphone in a Charlie Chaplin movie from 1928:



Since this video surfaced, people have been offering numerous explanations. Some say she was using an old-timey hearing aid; other say she was hiding from the camera; still others say she was scratching a brucellosis-induced ear itch contracted from her pet elk. I, however, think it's very likely she is actually a time traveler. In fact, a reader recently forwarded me a photo from the New York Times that inadvertently reveals a nonplussed bicycle commuter emerging from the particle accelerator at CERN:

One moment you're salmoning down a New York street, and the next you're sucked through a wormhole and pop out of a tube somewhere near Geneva, Switzerland. As scientists continue to play around with particle accelerators like a bunch of "hipsters" customizing their "fixies" these kinds of accidents are only going to become more common, and I'm relatively certain that's what happened to the cellphone lady too. It also explains why Fire is Aerospoke 2.0:



By the way, you'll notice that since the wheels were Ksyriums the filmmakers had to add the fire; if they had been R-Sys wheels they would have exploded all by themselves.

Speaking of unsolved mysteries, not too long ago I posted this picture of Canadian cyclist Tara Whitten, which was forwarded to me by a reader:

While it seemed clear to me that she was kneeling in obeisance before the Holy of Holies, the Lotus of the Lone Wolf, some readers suggested it was not in fact the "Tarck" of the Covenant since the decals didn't match. However, I've subsequently received the following photo, which proves conclusively that the Lone Wolf's steed has indeed undergone a ritual re-decaling:

Incidentally, the reader who sent me this photo was visiting the United States (or Canada's flabby jowl) from Poland for the first time in his life, only to encounter the Lone Wolf himself. That's like going to the Apple store to buy your first iPod and getting served by Steve Jobs, or like buying a LeMond directly from Greg LeMond. (Though The Great Trek Bicycle Making Company claims that last one wasn't all that rare.)

He must have traveled via CERN.

Read more »

Pressing Issues: Matters of Miner Importance

I didn't become a bike blogger in order to do "work;" instead, I did it because it seemed like a relaxing way to sit in front of a computer all morning in my underpants. However, even into the most pantsless life a little responsibility must fall, and it is now my responsibility to remind you that I will be giving a presentation at the Philly Bike Expo this Saturday, October 30th, at 2:00pm. That's right in between Yoga For Cyclists (which is much easier than Advanced Autofellatio) and Georgena Terry's presentation (Terry being the inventor of the road bike with the tiny wheel in the front that inadvertently launched a "fixie" trend):

It also, unfortunately, conflicts with the presentation of Drew Guldalian, who happens to build very nice bikes, which I know because my friend has one and I've ridden it:

Given this, as well as the fact that I'm intrinsically not very interesting, I know that I have to work in order to draw people to my presentation. To this end, I will first remind you that the Philly Bike Expo people have a "special" going, wherein you get a copy of my book:

Secondly, I will also tell you that the seminar I've prepared is more than entertaining; it's actually a major opportunity to get in on the "ground floor" of a tremendously exciting business venture. I can't tell you what this venture is, and I also won't confirm or deny that it involves time shares, but I will point out that the weather is quite lovely in Boca Raton at this time of year and just leave it at that. Plus, in addition to all of this, I will be giving out prizes, which will consist mostly of stuff I have lying around at home. For example, if you can believe it, Rapha actually just sent me some of their "performance skincare:"

This was very generous of them, and I'm honestly grateful, but the truth is that I have an aversion to scented unguents, and I could smell this stuff before it even got off the mail truck. (It smelled kind of like the bowls of potpourri they keep by the door in the sorts of shops that sell candles and teapots.) I'm also an avowed "lowbrow" when it comes to chamois cream (if you don't know, chamois cream is the stuff you put on your "lowbrow"), and the local pharmacy serves my crotchal needs just fine. (My motto is: "If it's good enough for a diaper, then it's good enough for my bib shorts.") Also, I once had an accident involving hot embrocation that is too graphic to relate here, and I'm now afraid to get anywhere near the stuff.

So, what this means is that I will award this deluxe Rapha Performance Skincare fun-pak as a prize at my BRA. By the way, it will also come in this Rapha sack, which is perfect for pretentiously storing that spare tubular tire you keep toe-clipped to the underside of the saddle on your Serotta, ostensibly in case of a puncture but in reality merely as a sort of "retro" affectation:

Or you can stuff it full of potpourri and hang it in your closet.

But this isn't the only prize I will dispense. I'll also rummage around and see what else I can find, and these items could include lights from Knog as well as perhaps a t-shirt or two. Moreover, I will attempt to dispense these items in a fashion that is enjoyable to all present. So I hope to see some of you there on Saturday, and I hope you will refrain from pelting me with cheese steaks.

Moving on, in the spirit of "work" and fulfilling responsibilities, it's also time to conclude The First (and Last) Annual BSNYC/RTMS Cockpit of the Year Award, sponsored by Just Coffee Cooperative, who won't listen to me when I tell them they'd make a lot more money if they'd just start exploiting people. Yesterday, you voted on the finalists, and here were the winners when I arbitrarily closed the polls this morning:

I. Best Antler or Animal By-Product

As you can see, "Antlers Sur L'Herbe" won by a comfortable margin:

II: Best Aero

In this race, a conservative gravel-phobic base rallied to make sure that aerobars are used only on the road:

III: Best Multi-Level

(The Sheldon Brown Memorial Biplanar Cockpit Award)

In this emotionally charged race, Jacob's Ladder was the clear favorite:

IV: Best STI

It was a very tight race, but the "Upright" configuration won by a rattly worn 9-speed STI lever top cap:

V: Best Owner "Curated" and Piloted

Also a very close race, in the end "Steering Wheel Guy" flipped "The Kansas Sail" the "bird:"

VI: "Freestyle"

(Anything Goes!)

And finally, in the always sensational "Freestyle" competition, the Terry Gilliamesque network of pneumatic tubes that is the "???" cockpit won decisively:


Thus having established the best-of-breed, it's now time to determine the Best In Show and finally put this contest to bed like a naughty dachshund. Simply vote below for the cockpit you like best, and the number of votes each cockpit receives will determine the first, second, and third place finishers:

This Is It! Who Should Get The "Cockie?"

Antlers Sur L'Herbe

Aero Bars (Road Only)

Jacob's Ladder

Upright STI With PVC

Steering Wheel Guy

???

or View Results

Create your own poll at Flisti.com

Once the voters are in, that will be that, and three very lucky and potentially overstimulated people will receive their "Cockie" coffee.

Speaking of elections, a number of people have informed me that this bloated saddlebag was recently elected the mayor of Toronto:



Sadly, all I can do is offer the people of Toronto my condolences. I was particularly confused by his self-defeating argument that people shouldn't ride bikes because "roads are built for buses, cars, and trucks, not for people on bikes," since if anything it means that the roads need to be upgraded. That's like saying people shouldn't use computers because "our communication infrastructure was built for letters and telegraphs, and not for the Internet." Of course, he does have a sensitive side:

My heart bleeds for ‘em when I hear someone gets killed, but it’s their own fault at the end of the day.

His heart may be bleeding, but I suspect it's due not to the dead cyclists but to his corpulence, and that it has ruptured from the strain of pushing blood through his fat-clogged arteries. Unfortunately for him, "artificial hearts are built for health-minded people with congenital heart defects, not for people who eat all their meals at Tim Hortons."

Meanwhile, speaking of self-contradictory worldviews, a fellow Twitterer has informed me that the "57 Things" guy was on the CBS Evening News recently:



At first I was puzzled as to why a minimalist with a small amount of stuff would need such a big apartment:

But then I remembered that he and his girlfriend actually had a whole lot of stuff--until they broke up, leaving him in a typical "my girlfriend just left me" apartment. Fortunately though he still has a full wardrobe that easily contains at least 57 hangers:

He also still has his bike, which may or may not be a fixie but definitely has the top-mount-lever-only brake lever configuration so conducive to that "out of the saddle, hands on the bar tops" thing that "hipsters" love to do:

Meanwhile, CBS Evening News juxtaposes the incidental minimalism of a guy whose girlfriend just left him with the cluttered apartment of a former sorority sister who desperately clings to her sticker and shoelace collection:


Here she is standing in her closet:

I give it six weeks before she and "57 Things" guy move in together, and six months before she leaves him after a protracted fight about closet space.

They even talk to a professional organizer, whose orderly wood pile is a testament to his abilities:


But who fails to explain how having a bunch of cabinets you don't use is "minimalist:"

Really, it's no different from having a bunch of stickers you don't stick to anything, or a box of shoelaces you don't put in shoes.

By the way, I'd bet my Ironic Orange Julius Bike that the professional organizer with the tidy woodpile owns one of those artisanal axes:


Even though they're hopelessly out of style, since a reader informs me that it's now all about the designer pick axe:


Thanks to that rescue in Chile, urban lumberjacks are out, and "hipster" miners are in.

Read more »