Classless Society: Pinko is the New Black

Last night, at Sid's Bikes, in Manhattan (which is an island with tall buildings all over it that is a suburb of New Jersey), The Bicycling Magazine Bike Repair Challenge, Sponsored by Park Tool "went down." In it, nine brave contestants strove to complete feats of bicycle maintenance such as changing an inner tube as quickly as possible in order to win an array of fabulous prizes, and as they did so they looked remarkably like the "upperclass twits" trying to unhook the bras in that Monty Python skit:

Of all the contestants, one fearless fumbler reigned supreme--Roy DeGuzman, Port Jefferson resident and self-admitted BMXer, shown here with his booty (as well as his prizes):

My job during the contest was to heckle and ridicule the contestants (or at least that's what I decided my job was, for all I know Bicycling may only have invited me in the hope that I'd help clean up afterwards). However, I must admit I felt guilty as I did this, since I doubt I could have out-repaired even the slowest among them (and I can assure you, some of the contestants were extremely if not preternaturally slow). This is partly because I'm generally inept, and partly because I view flat tires not as inconveniences but rather as opportunities--a chance to let that field ride away from me, or to be late to an appointment, or to just generally loiter on a street corner while a deflated butyl tube dangles from my hand and a string of drool hangs from my chin.

Speaking of ignorance, as an American I am of course completely ignorant when it comes to other countryways that are not my own, and what I do know about them is informed mostly by movies, television shows, and broad stereotypes. For example, I know that Japan is a land with a strong work ethic where everyone is a martial arts expert; I know that every man in Ireland is either one of three (3) Daniel Day-Lewis characters or else a quirky artistic type in the manner of Elvis Costello; and I know from listening to people like Michael Moore that Canada is a milder version of the United States where nothing bad ever happens, where free health care falls from the trees, and where the only violence the gentle people know is in the form of hockey fights. Also, their chief exports are maple syrup and comedians.

Of course, like any American, I also grow sad and disillusioned when I learn that one of these faraway lands of make-believe isn't really exactly like I thought it was, since like my fellow countrymen I've been raised with the notion that the world should conform to my whimsical fantasies. This is why the recent news out of Toronto has shaken my belief system to its very core. First they elected that mayor who thinks that when people die on bikes its their own fault, and then they got Colonel Sanders's more "flambullient" cousin to say even more crazy bike stuff about bikes at the swearing-in ceremony:

When I first read these comments and saw that they were attributed to Don Cherry, I wondered why the noted trumpet player and stepfather of the pop singer Neneh Cherry was so against bicycles, and more importantly, how he had channeled these sentiments from beyond the grave. Then I realized this was actually a different Don Cherry, and that he's an ice hockey commentator and some kind of "Canadian personality" (which strikes me as being something of an oxymoron, since I thought if you had a personality in Canada the government exiled you to the United States, hence the whole comedian export thing). In any case, Toronto has now catapulted itself to the top of my list of cities I'm afraid to visit, trumping even Reykjavic, which I had also resolved never to visit because I'm deathly afraid of elves.

Speaking of Nordic countries, yesterday I mentioned those Ikea holiday gift bikes, and it would seem that they are already making their way onto eBay:

As well as Craigslist:

ITTET, it's worth noting that receiving any sort of holiday bonus is impressive, even if it's a really crappy bike--especially when you consider (as I understand it, at least) that in addition to the bike Ikea employees also received a decent-sized cash bonus, with which they can presumably buy better bikes, or else "curate" fantabulous cockpits for the Ikea bikes they already own--ideally using pieces of Ikea furniture. (I'd give almost anything to see an Ikea bike with a handlebar-mounted Fredrik 11-piece workstation accessory set, and perhaps a Snöig lamp for good measure.) Still, this bicycle defaces my image of Sweden in the same way that Don Cherry has dispelled my illusion of Canada--though I also think two very valuable things have come from this:

1) Many cyclists have often wondered what the world's cheapest new bike would look like, and now we know because Ikea has finally commissioned it;

2) The socio-political implications of the Ikea bike have plunged the smug populace of Portland into a spiral of infighting and self-doubt.

Ever since I first saw the story on BikePortland I've been following the comments, and judging from the controversy it has generated this innocent bicycle may very well be the thing that finally tears their "bike culture" asunder. Some Portlanders are disgusted by the poor quality of the bike; others are disgusted with them for being disgusted; and still others are accusing Ikea of being "classist" and exploiting their workers by photographing them with cheap bicycles. It's a symphony of self-importance as delightful as anything ever composed by the likes of Mozart or Tchaikovsky.

Then again, it doesn't take too much to send Portanders into a tizzy. Even this ridiculous Chris King espresso tamper stirred up a little concerto of conceit:

Comments on that one seem to range from (to paraphrase) "You've got to be kidding me," to "How dare you not understand the tribulations of the working barista forced to handle inferior equipment?"

Personally, I'm still waiting for a decent Ikea bike "disembodied hand" shot, though I did receive from a very astute reader a photo from a Cyclingnews review of the Cannondale CarbTastic SuperX-Whatever-o-Cross in which the bike is being propped up by a disembodied stick:

Incidentally, the accompanying text is:

"The horizontal squish of the chainstays as they meet the bottom bracket shell seems to be a source of flex under pedaling."

In other words, the bottom bracket junction is just not "beefy" enough.

One can only imagine what the reaction in Portland would have been if Ikea had had the temerity to gift its employees with sub-par cyclocross bikes. They probably would have formed a mob and stormed the Ikea corporate headquarters with artisanal Chris King espresso tampers and given those "classist" Swedes the tamping of a lifetime.

Lastly, yesterday I also mentioned the Outlier "six foot scarf," and while I may scoff I'm sure Outlier are on to something big because it's no secret that the "fixerati" love to cover their faces and pretend to be bandits when they ride. Here in New York, this happens as soon as the temperature drops below 65 degrees Fahrenheit, which is "freezing" on the fixed-gear scale. Here's another variation on that theme from San Francisco-based Martin Clothing:

You really need that for those brutal San Francisco Mission District winter nights.

Speaking of things that aren't beefy enough, the Martin model is definitely a candidate for the title of "America Next Top Fixie Model:"

Though not if Outlier have anything to say about it. There are a number of ways to approach the fixed-gear model shoot, and Outlier prefer the "story" approach. In this one, we see the model riding the bike:

And then we see him chasing after the guy who stole it:

Cadence clothing, on the other hand, appeal to fans of the "I'm in fifth grade and I walk to school all by myself" look:
Which is a variation on the non-threatening tough guy "Who you callin' a Nü-Fred?" pose captured by Mission Workshop:


And the "designer hoodlum" look embodied by the gynocentrically-named "Vag-X:"

I wonder how many Portlanders have ever received the message: "Hey, I think I left my Chris King espresso tamper in your VagX last night." Probably more than a few.

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Diamond Frames and Sizing: How Big Is Too Big?

I have come into the possession of a roadbike that was described by the previous owner as a 52cm frame, but in fact measures 54.5cm. On a diamond frame, that can be a significant difference, and I am trying to determine  - without giving in to wishful thinking - whether the bike is too big for me to ride safely. When it comes to step-through bicycles, I prefer to ride the largest frame possible, as long as I am able to hoist myself onto the saddle. My Gazelle is 57cm, my Raleigh DL-1 is 56cm, and my Bella Ciao is 54cm. But with a diamond frame, that approach is not possible, because top tube clearance is an additional factor to consider. That is why my roadbikes have 52cm frames.

To illustrate what a difference just over 2cm can make, here is the new fosterbike (right), face to face with one of my 52cm roadbikes (left). The perspective of the shots exaggerates the larger bike, but look at the space between the lugs on the head tubes to get a more accurate sense of the difference. It is considerable.

The bike is not in rideable condition, so I can't try it out. But standing over the top tube in my bare feet, there is less than 1mm of clearance between my "soft tissue" and that black cable. 

In the shoes I usually wear, the space underneath my forefinger illustrates the clearance I get - less than 1/2". The bike needs a lot of work and some component replacements, before I can actually ride it and determine for sure whether I am okay with so little clearance. And naturally, I am reluctant to do that work if in the end I won't be able to ride it. My main worry, is that when dismounting I might hit my pelvis on the top tube, since our knees tend to bend a little when we jump. But I am not sure whether in actuality that is a valid concern.

How much top tube clearance are you comfortable with? Are there standard guidelines for how much clearance is "safe"?

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Crappy Bikes: The Gift That Keeps on Taking

This evening, I will be heading into the big city to Sid's Bikes on the western portion of the 19th Street in Manhattan. Usually when I visit a bike shop, it's to test ride dozens of crabon fribé bicycles for the better part of a busy Saturday afternoon without actually buying any of them. (Bike shops love this, especially when you demand a free water bottle afterward.) This time though, I'll be a judge-slash-commentator (or "judgentator") at the "Bicycling Magazine Bike Repair Challenge, Sponsored by Park Tool," which takes place tonight at 6:30:

I won't go so far as to say I was forced to into jury duty by the merciless staff at Bicycling, but I will say that I have no intention of writing "laterally stiff yet vertically compliant" 100 times again, which is their standard punishment for insubordination. Plus, it does promise to be entertaining, and if you're in the area I would implore you to attend, if only to take advantage of the free drinks and opportunity to heckle the nine contestants who one can only hope are comically inept when it comes to bike repair. By the way, I only just noticed that among the prizes is a "premium membership to local advocacy group, Transportation Alternatives," which is certainly nothing to sneeze at, on, or near. If you're the sort of person who likes to go on and on about what's wrong with our city's streets and how they're not "livable" enough for you, premium membership in TA is nothing less than your "license to kvetch." Combine that with a membership in your local food co-op or community garden and your smugness factor will go through the roof (and it will be a green roof, naturally).

Speaking of smugness, I will of course be arriving to the affair via chauffeur-driven Big Dummy (the chauffeur of course being me, since my helper monkey Vito is highly susceptible to road rage and is one more Access-a-Ride driver face-chewing incident away from landing on death row at the local animal shelter). Here is my Dig Dummy carrying a lengthy package which may or may not be a Festivus pole:

Either that, or it could be a leg lamp.

If you've been contemplating Big Dummy ownership I invite you to examine mine and even ride it, provided of course you leave me with a valid driver's licence, credit card, or cash deposit at my discretion, depending on how shifty you look. (Your "tarck" bike is not an acceptable deposit, for should you abscond with the Dummy my only recourse will be to sell it on Craigslist for pennies on the dollar.)

Speaking of commuting, I was forced by circumstance to ride the subway yesterday, which reminded me of how out of touch you can become when you do not ride it on a daily basis. Not only do you miss all the latest dermatologist ads, but you also don't stay abreast of all the latest handheld electronics. For example, until yesterday I thought playing games on your iPhone was cutting-edge subway entertainment, but now people are actually watching Devo videos on personal TVs:

Yes, that is in fact the video for "Whip It," and I happened to take the shot right at the moment when he whips the bra off the mannequin:

If you had told me back in 1980 when the "Whip It" video "dropped" that one day I'd be watching it over somebody's shoulder on the Q train I probably would have abandoned society right then and there and gone Amish.

Speaking of farm life, a reader recently forwarded me the following image of possible 2010 Tour de France winner Andy Schleck "whipping it good" with a sheep or a lamb or a calf or something (I don't know my lifestock and would have totally failed Amish school), via this blog:

There's no telling what Alberto Contador would have come up positive for had he eaten that particular piece of mutton.

Of course, with the holidays rolling around, you're probably already shopping for presents. As such, you might want to give the gift of a leg lamp, or a personal TV so your loved one doesn't have to go without Devo videos for 40 minutes, or even a farm animal, which I understand is the trendy gift of choice among the urban "Americana backwoods revival" set. Or, if you're a big company like Ikea, you might want to give all of your employees bikes:

I must admit I was impressed by this--until I saw the bicycle:

(Somewhere, a hipster with cognitive dissonance is saying, "At least it'll make a good polo bike.")

It's incredibly depressing to me that, in an attempt to encourage "a healthy lifestyle and everyday sustainable transport," Ikea chose the very embodiment of America's complete failure to understand the bicycle: the department store mountain bike. Sluggish and impractical on the street and virtually useless on the trails, bikes like this fail both as transportation and as recreation. Granted, this is the sort of bicycle you tend to see being ridden on the sidewalks in the sorts of areas in which most Ikeas are located, but that doesn't mean they need to promulgate that theme. It seems to me Ikea could have at least saved themselves the shipping costs and just given each of its employees a $60 Walmart gift card so they could buy their own crappy bikes, or else just encouraged them to ride to work on a Verksam swivel chair, which probably handles about as well as the Ikea bike while being twice as practical:

(Note fenders on casters and armrests for easy "portaging.")

Then again, it could be that Ikea's plan is to passively discourage their employees from riding to work--kind of like when you "accidentally" give someone the wrong number at a bar. I certainly wouldn't put that past the Brooklyn Ikea, which at one point opposed a bike lane in front of their store:

The bike lane since went in anyway, but at the time it was certainly confusing. Situated in Red Hook at the terminus of the Great Hipster Silk Route, you'd think encouraging more people to ride there would be what is colloquially called a "nobe rayner," inasmuch as they furnish the homes of roughly 90% of Brooklyn's "hipster" community. Apparently though, the guy who manages the store for the company that believes in "a healthy lifestyle and everyday sustainable transport" thought that riding bikes in front of that store was too dangerous:

“It seems dangerous to officially encourage bikes to the front of Ikea,” Baker told Community Board 6 on Thursday night.

It must be incredibly confusing to work at the Brooklyn Ikea, where one day your manager's saying it's too dangerous to ride a bike to work, and the next you're getting a crappy mountain bike for Christmas. It's also confusing to get emails from casual designer cycling clothing manufacturer Outlier, who inform me that among their winter offerings is a "six foot scarf:"


I really can't imagine many cycling garments less practical than a scarf that's longer than you (or at least me). I hope Outlier have a good legal team, because some unfortunate hipster's going to get this thing stuck in his Aerospoke and choke himself to death. Fixed-gear riding: if the "hill bombing" doesn't kill you, your wardrobe will.

Meanwhile, another reader spotted the following sign in Brooklyn recently, which indicates that Outlier's arch-nemesis in the race to create the world's most expensive cycling-themed pants, Rapha, may actually be "dropping" a "collabo" with Jehovah:


Apparently Rapha have transcended "epic" and are moving on to "apocalyptic." Clearly the "Rapha-ture" is upon us.

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'Fork's Bent?'... Suspicious Cracks in the Paint Cause Concern

The phrase "fork's bent" has become a private joke of sorts in vintage bicycle circles.  Almost any time somebody posts a picture of their "awesome vintage find," there will be that one person who comments that "the fork looks bent." Most of the time, the fork is not bent and it's just something to say - or maybe the angle or the lighting in the picture are misleading. Nonetheless, the possibility of a bent fork or frame is certainly something to watch for in vintage bikes. If a bicycle is steel, a bent frame or fork is not necessarily tragic - steel is flexible and the bent portion can usually be straightened. Cracks, on the other hand, are of greater concern.

During my visit to Geeekhouse last week, the guys were looking at my Gazelle and pointed out that the bits of cracked paint underneath the fork crown could indicate cracks in the surface of the fork itself. Needless to say, my heart sank.

I noticed the cracked paint before, but didn't think anything of it. The fork blades in of themselves are not deformed and there are no indicators that the front end of the bike has been in a collision. In an impact strong enough to bend the fork, surely there would have been some other damage - but there is not a scratch anywhere. The bicycle also handles absolutely fine - better than fine - with no indication of anything "off" in the steering.

It would be easy to dismiss the cracked paint, if it were not for one red flag: The cracks are symmetrical - right underneath the fork crown, on both the right and the left blade. How did they get there, and how can we tell whether it really is just cracked paint or an indicator of some sort of trauma to the fork?

I was speaking to a local frame-builder yesterday, who advised to check for similar paint cracks in the back of the fork blades. There are none; the paint is cracked only in the front. To him, this was an indicator that the fork could be fine - as stress fractures typically happen in the back and not in the front of the blades. He also pointed out that even if the fork has been bent and reset, or even if there are hairline cracks, a massive Dutch fork like this can probably take it, without it being a safety issue. No doubt there are loads of people in the Netherlands riding ancient beaters with visibly bent forks.

But the bottom line is, that we simply don't know what's going on under that cracked paint. To find out for sure, I would need to remove the paint from the fork blades and thoroughly examine the steel underneath - which I am reluctant to do, as the original paint is so nice. Is there any way to diagnose while keeping the paint intact? Any suggestions or thoughts are welcome.

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Tempting Fate: Look Ma, No Hands

(A reader's AYHSMB vanity plate in the eye-catching Massachusetts "colorway.")

Bicycle photography is a rule-bound art form, governed as strictly as any haiku or sonnet. Consequently, bicycle photographs generally include certain elements: among these are the drive-side shot; the Obligatory Robust Bottom Bracket Shot (or ORBS); and the "Wow, I'm a genius, I built up a fixie with a straight chainline" shot. However, my personal favorite is the "disembodied hand" shot, which I mentioned in yesterday's post.

The disembodied hand shot is my favorite precisely because it is whimsical and improvisational, and consequently an antidote to the contrived stuffiness inherent in most bicycle photography. This is why I occasionally catch myself slavering over disembodied hand porn, and why I was pleased to receive this example from a reader:

Sure, intentional disembodied hand parody shots like the ones I mentioned yesterday are entertaining, but nothing is as satisfying as the real thing--especially when it's in the classic Michelangelo "Hand of God" style:

("All You Deities Finger My Fixie")

Speaking of disembodied hands, another reader forwarded me this interview with a top hand model, whose manner of speaking is so ethereally lilting that she seems to be hypnotized by her own gesticulations:



"I can make a full-time living off about five inches," she reveals to Katie Couric while her hands twist slowly like shwarma on a skewer:

This is quite impressive--even more so than adult film star and total über-Fred Jack Lawrence, who also makes a living off of a single appendage, though presumably with a few more inches:



But still, nobody tops Adam, who managed to father the entire human race with little more than a centimeter:

Put that in your hand and model it, Ellen Sirot.

In any case, if you enjoy disembodied hand shots you owe a debt of gratitude to the fixed-gear "culture," whose obsession with photographing their crappy bikes has resulted in a veritable disembodied hand bumper crop. However, I'm not sure this makes up for the rest of their excesses--though you've got to give them a disembodied hand for continuing to find increasingly stupid things to do with what are essentially very limited bicycles. First there was the awkward herky-jerkiness of "fixed-gear freestyling," then there was the senseless knee abuse of long-distance fixie touring, and now there's the utter mindlessness of "hill bombing," as evidenced by that guy on the Stelvio, as well as these riders in San Francisco:

Potrero Hill Bombing from Lester Lyons-Hookham on Vimeo.

In it, we see a rider who looks less like an actual "hipster" than he does someone who has dressed up as a stereotypical hipster for Halloween:

Next, this parody of a hipster rides down a hill, skidding occasionally in order to scrub off speed and to show off his Daisy Dukes:

The object being, of course, to blow a stop sign and experience the thrill of almost being hit by a car:

I'm not sure why you'd make a video like this and put it on the Internet unless your goal is to figuratively urinate on the graves of every cyclist who has ever been killed by a motor vehicle through no fault of his or her own. Presumably they're working on a sequel in which they take one of those "epic" fixed-gear trips to an impoverished country in order to burn a bunch of food and money in front of the villagers. Anyway, you'd think that if your favorite pastime was riding down hills and skidding to a stop you'd at least put some thought into tire choice, but even this seems to be beyond them:

You'd also think that, in a city like San Francisco, climbing hills quickly would be the true measure of cycling prowess, but I guess water and stupidity always find their own level.

Now, I'm not one to wish crashes on people, but I can't help thinking that cycledom might be better off if these riders were to fall of their bikes and vow never to get back on again. Nothing serious, mind you--just enough to dent their fixies and their pride. Speaking of which, while I languished in the shed last week, the New York Times published the following article on just that, only with "Traditional Freds" instead of the "Nü" variety:

In it, the writer chronicles the events leading up to her own traumatic crash:

My crash came 8.9 miles into a 100-mile ride (of course I knew the distance, because of course I was watching my bicycle computer). My friend Jen Davis was taking a turn leading; my husband, Bill, was drafting — riding close behind her. I was drafting Bill when a slower rider meandered into his path. Bill swerved and I hit his wheel. Down I went.

Clearly this was a "clusterfred" of the highest order, but I'm not sure we're getting the whole picture and I think this testimony still requires some Johnny Cochran-esque cross-examination. Setting aside for the moment the fact that she was staring at her computer instead of watching what was going on around her, I'm not sure how, if she was drafting behind Bill as she claims, his swerving would cause her to hit his wheel. The only plausible explanation would be that they were attempting an "echelon," a maneuver that no Fred should ever attempt. In fact, I'm not even sure most Freds should attempt regular drafting, given that they're generally rapt by their various computers and gizmos like crows are transfixed by shiny things, and in addition to cars staying three feet away from them they should probably also stay three feet away from each other:


The only objects that move more erratically than Freds on Pinarellos are hummingbirds and UFOs.

Meanwhile, when I'm not browsing disembodied hand porn you can be reasonably certain I'm looking at ZBCs, or "Zany Bicycle Cockpits." Sure, the contest is long over, but fortunately for all of us ZBCs will continue to bloom on bicycles like flowers of absurdity. Moreover, the ZBC is not confined to the tinkerer's shed, and can even be found in the realm of elite competition. Consider this pair of hydraulic brakes, modified to work in tandem with road levers and documented by Cyclocross magazine:

Where there's a will, there's a kludge.

Lastly, I was pleased to receive from another reader what may be the most "epic" fixed-gear video to date:

Helps put all that hill bombing in perspective.

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Celestial Beings

[image via Spernicelli]

Depending on who you speak to, it is either the most over-rated vintage bicycle in existence, or the Holy Grail: The classic Bianchi in the legendary "celeste" green.

[image via Spernicelli]

The first time I saw a true vintage Bianchi was a couple of years ago, in Austria. It was many decades old and partially dilapidated, hanging in a dark corner of a stuffy bike shop - among dozens of other classic Italian bikes. Still, the Bianchi was the one I noticed. From across the room, I walked toward it with a flutter in my chest, my hand already stretching out to touch the lugwork. Amore.

[image via Mike's Bikes]

Started in Milan in 1885, Bianchi is described as the world's oldest bicycle company still in existence. Though it has always produced a wide variety of models, Bianchi is best known for its classic racing bikes - particularly in the distinct "celeste" shade that has become its signature colour. Of dubious origins (some say inspired by the Milan sky, but most likely a product of surplus WWII paint), the exact formula of "celeste" has varied throughout the years. But it has always been some magical mix of sage green and powder blue - offset by the seductive shimmer of Campagnolo components.  

[image via the Fixed Gear Blog]

As I stare at these images and sigh, I wonder what on earth attracts me to these bikes - Straight out racing bikes that two years ago I would not have even known how to mount, let alone ride. 

[image via theoelliot]

Bianchi even produced several mixte models throughout the years - But somehow, it's the classic racing bikes that really draw me in.  

[image via Steve Otto]

And while initially my interest in Bianchi was purely aesthetic, that began to change as my cycling skills expanded. Over time, I have transitioned from thinking of these bicycles as mere eye candy, to seeing myself riding one in future - most likely as my "wildcard" bike, to replace the vintage Trek currently occupying that spot.

[image via prollyisnotprobably]

One interesting industry development, is that the current Bianchi company is re-introducing lugged steel to its modern line-up as part of the Classica line. This began with the partly lugged Dolomiti roadbike in 2009 - greeted with some dismay due to its awkward mix of modern and classic features. The 2011 line up looks more promising, with the Tipo Corsa and the Pista Classica - both featuring chrome lugwork and fork crowns. Though the lugs look somewhat generic to me and the price is likely to be prohibitive, I am excited to see this and look forward to the models being released. Bianchi "celeste" is at its best when surrounded by lugwork, on a classic steel bike. 

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