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.

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Racing Towards Anxiety: Sowing the Seeds of Doubt

This past weekend, the Bicycle Film Festival took place in New York City. If you're unfamiliar with the Bicycle Film Festival, it's kind of like Sundance, only for the sorts of people who wear cycling caps as casual wear and ride brakeless bicycles with perpetually empty CETMA racks. I did not attend the festival, even though (or, more accurately, because) it featured films like that "Racing Towards Red Hook" video, the preview of which is so sublimely absurd as to warrant a second viewing:

expresso: racing towards red hook (trailer) from Jessica Scott on Vimeo.

In addition to the infamous "This ain't no hipster shit" quote, the "Racing Towards Red Hook" preview also features other rhinestones of wisdom, such as this:

"So many people have, like, this type of bike it makes sense to create some sort of sporting event around it."

I couldn't agree more. Given the popularity of fixed-gears it really is about time somebody invented some kind of competition in which these bicycles can be utilized. I think the ideal venue for a bicycle with a single gear ratio and no brakes would be some sort of flat, closed bicycle track, and instead of running lights and getting signatures on manifests or popping wheelies they could simply ride around and around it to see who's the fastest. It could be called a "velo-drome"--"velo" for bike, and "drome" for, well, drome--and if someone were to build some sort of prototype I have no doubt it would attract many fixed-gear cyclists with trendy moustaches:

Sure, it will be underground to begin with, but who knows? Maybe in 50 or 100 years racing bicycles inside of a "velo-drome" could become an olympic sport! I know it seems far-fetched, but hey, we can dream. And it will all have started thanks to the boundless vision of the guy in the Cinelli hat.

(Frank Warren: Non-Hipster and Inventor of the Velodrome)

It's hard to blame him for his exuberance though. After all, who among us has not discovered some new pleasure, and become so excited about it that we mistake this excitement for discovery? I know that was my experience when I tasted chocolate-dipped haggis for the first time. "Have you tried this?!?," I shouted exuberantly as I attempted to foist forkfuls of the stuff onto complete strangers. "It's amazing!" Little did I know artisanal chocolate-dipped haggis trucks have been all the rage in Brooklyn for like months now, and in my enthusiasm I came off as a total foodie "noob." Now, I know better, so I munch my chocolate-dipped haggis while wearing the appropriately fashionable expression of world-weary detachment.

Speaking of bicycle racing, that was one of the things I opted to do this past weekend instead of going to the Cycling Caps and Shants Film Festival. Even though I harbor no illusions as to my ability and enter races with little ambition beyond enjoying myself and not falling down, I'm usually excited before a race. I'm also always just a tiny bit nervous, mostly because I'm anticipating a state of anaerobic distress. Anyway, this was a mountain bike race, and as I stood there resting on my handlebars and awaiting the mad scramble for the holeshot, one of my fellow riders pointed to my arm and asked, "Has that been there from birth?" He was referring to a mole.

"I dunno," I replied.

"Well, you should really get it checked out," he pronounced in a dire tone.

One of my favorite things about bike racing is that, for the duration of the race, you set your troubles aside and focus only on riding your bike. Well, so much for that. Riding my bike was now the last thing on my mind, since apparently I had skin cancer. Basically, his words had the same excitement-quelling effect as slipping on a Larry King mask just before lovemaking. Then, my mind immediately shot to my recent return from Gothenburg, Sweden, when my driver had uttered these chilling words to me:

"You will die very soon. Mark my words. You will die very soon."

Sweet merciful Lob! It now became clear that he had put a curse on me and manifest a malignant mole upon my person.

A few rows ahead of me, a rider was wearing some sort of yellow LiveStrong helmet and glasses combo, and I resolved to push my way up to him and rub my moley arm all over his head and face in the hopes that his accessories might serve as a curative. Unfortunately, before I could get to him the race began, and like pretty much everybody else who was there that day he rode away from me rather easily.

Needless to say, I continued to reflect on this throughout the race, and at one point it occurred to me that perhaps it had been my fellow rider's plan to "psyche me out" all along by effectively transforming my race into a real-life "Seinfeld" episode. Furthermore, maybe I wasn't his only victim. For all I know, he could had been going from rider to rider and sowing seeds of doubt and fear in each one of them. "Hmmm, do you have a family history of glaucoma?," he might have asked as he peered into someone's eyes. "Did you just go to the bathroom again? Frequent urination can be a sign of adult onset diabetes."

In any case, if his intention was to undermine me he needn't have bothered, since in a race you can always count on me to undermine myself--and as usual, I did a commendable job of it. As for the mole, I suppose it couldn't hurt to go to the doctor, though I think I'll just take a picture of it and put it up on Twitter or Facebook instead. [Is my mole dangerous? If "yes," click the "Like" button!] Yes, here in HMO-merica, we're big believers in the power of amateur Internet diagnosis-by-consensus. Stuff like hands-on treatment and "universal health care" is for Canadians and communists.

Anyway, given my poor performance, I briefly flirted with retiring from cycling and taking up something less tiring. But what? For a moment, I considered origami:

But then I realized that the "origami culture" is probably just as cliquey and judgmental as the "bike culture." Consider the following:

Highlights of the exhibition included folded-paper versions of an Academy Award statuette, a miniature Buddha and a 15-foot Tyrannosaurus rex constructed by a group of students from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. All were completed without the aid of scissors or glue.

“We’re purists,” said Wendy Weiss, 44, of Holyoke, Mass.

Clearly scissors and glue are the brakes and derailleurs of the crafting world, and just like fixed-gear riders the scissorless-and-glueless set are way too self-righteous about not using them.

I suppose I could always sandbag as a Cat 6 racer, but frankly I don't think I could afford the equipment. As we saw last week, Cat 6-style flat-bar road bikes are becoming very exotic, and via the Twitter I've learned that cyclocross bikes are following suit:

2010 Stevens Team Cyclocross Bike (santa clara)
Date: 2011-06-24, 3:04PM PDT
Reply to: [deleted]

2010 52 cm Stevens Team Cyclocross Bike

* Sram Red Components
* Custom built Velocity wheels with Challenge Parigi-Roubaix 700x28 Tires
* Ritchie WCS Flat bars, Seat Post and Stem
* Fizik Arione Saddle
* Speedplay Stainless Zero pedals

8 months old and ridden less than 1000 miles

Over 4500.00 invested with receipts.

Great straight bar road bike. World class Cyclocross frame . Just a tad too big for me.
Best fit probably 5'7"-5'10". Weighs just under 17 LBS. Outstanding frame and components for the serious biker.

Serious inquires please call Joe @ 408-621-[deleted]


Good thing he kept the receipts. I hear shame is tax deductible now.

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Agents of Change: Of Freds and Men

The empowering effect the Internet has had on humanity is so profound and far-reaching as to be immeasurable. It has fomented revolution in the Middle East. Videos of doggie "three-ways" are merely a mouse click away. And now, as Klaus from Cycling Inquisition tells me, you can decide who's going to be on Team RadioShack's (pronounced "LAY-oh-pard Trek") Tour de France team:

Yes, that's right: Johan Bruyneel, a director who once reigned over a Tour-winning machine like a potentate, is now allowing you to pick, say, Robbie McEwen in the same cavalier manner in which you might "like" a doggie three-way video. Then, once the lineup is set, I imagine RadioShack will "drop" their new "app:"

With the RadioShack "U-Direct It!" app, you're in the driver's seat of the team car, and you get to control all the action from your smartphone or tablet:

[Note: "Attack" button not compatible with Levi Leipheimer.]

By the way, RadioShack aren't the only ones taking social networking to a new level at this year's Tour, and for the first time TV network Versus is offering viewers the opportunity to choose the commentating team. This could spell trouble for the venerable duo of Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen, for beating them in the polling at the moment is the unlikely pairing of actor Morgan Freeman and fictional 1980s newscasting puppet Gary Gnu:

This may seem a bit arbitrary, but word is they totally "killed it" last year when they co-hosted the Latin Grammys.

In other professional cycling news, controversial rider Riccardo "The Cobra" Riccò recently sneaked into a Fred ride to "help his friends achieve a better result:"

Apparently, he jumped out from behind a house like a silent movie villain, joined the ride, and then totally bogarted the showers at the finish:

Despite being told to leave the event by other participants, Riccò rode the whole course and then even had the nerve to use the shower facilities provided by the organisers at the finish in Voghera, near Milan.

By the way, Riccò is not the only controversial professional to "ride bandit" in this fashion. Back in 2008, the Rock Racing team actually jumped into a race in Brooklyn's Prospect Park when they were in town for the Harlem Skyscraper Classic. Of course, Rock Racing ultimately folded, but with the right look Riccò could have a long career ahead of him as an organized ride-crasher. I think he should get his hands on a fixie and dress like this, which would allow him to slither undetected into rides like the Five Boro Bike Tour:

The above image was forwarded to my by a reader, who cannily observed that the rider is clearly the time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork's evil doppelgänger:

It's clear to me now that we stand on the cusp of an apocalyptic war between Good and Evil that could very well lay waste to the Universe, and that at this point there is only one man who can save us:

It is written in the Book of Fred that if the Lone Wolf should take the maillot jaune, mankind shall be saved. Of course, for that to happen, we need to get him a spot on the Team RadioShack Tour de France squad, but once he has his white-sneakered foot in the door winning the overall should be easy for him.

Speaking of empowerment and changing the future, from Athens, Greece I recently received a link to by far the most socially significant fixie "edit" ever "curated:"

The Prism: Riders on the Storm from localathensfilms on Vimeo.

If you're wondering what motivates these riders, according to the video their goal is two-fold:

1) "The creation of a community which will reflect the ideas of the group and will have a more solid political stance in relation to all that goes on around us;"

and

2) "The creation of conceptual actions that basically aim to reinforce collective imagination of the city's inhabitants towards a specific direction."

Wow. Meanwhile, this remains the state of affairs here in Canada's oversized bottom bracket:

I suppose you could also call that a conceptual action that reinforces collective imagination towards a specific direction. Granted, I'm not sure what that specific direction actually is, but I'm guessing it's somewhere towards the vicinity of the snack drawer.

And elsewhere in not-America, a reader informs me that some Stockholm politicians feel cyclists should be allowed to run red lights:

“As a cyclist you want to feel free and it is not as easy to go an extra two blocks as if you are in a car. There is a risk that people ignore the rules anyway, and then it is better to make it legal in an orderly fashion,” he said to daily Dagens Nyheter (DN).

Sounds perfectly sensible to me, but of course the big question is this: "So what about that teen boy who grabbed his principal's butt?"

Well, it's an unfortunate situation, and the principal reportedly feels "humiliated:"

She doesn't look all that humiliated to me, but then again Swedes can be difficult to read.

Lastly, from our nation's capital, a reader has sent me this exquisite example of a disembodied arm:

I just wish I could figure out how he's making that bike stand up without a kickstand.

It must be Photoshopped.

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Living Fierce: Unleashing your Personal Best

As much as I enjoyed my visit to Gothenburg, there is nothing quite as comforting as familiarity. I take solace in the predictable, and my life here in Uh-merica is just that. For example, I know that when I wake up in the morning, the sun will rise. I also know that this sun will shine on monkey feces, since my helper monkey, Vito, likes to relieve himself on my bedspread in the middle of the night. Mostly, though, I know that people in Portland, OR will continue to love beer and bikes, which is why this article on BikePortland should come as no surprise whatsoever:

Yes, it's well-known that putting a bunch of frames in any Portland establishment can double business overnight. This is not limited to bars, either. Even the Multnomah County Health Department is embracing the "put a bike on it" approach. Did you know that, because of low screening rates, less than 40% of colorectal cancers are found early? Well, by installing bike-themed colonoscopy stations all over the city they expect Portlanders will flock to have their colons examined with endoscopic tools fabricated by the city's top framebuilders. These stations will be staffed by United Bicycle Institute student volunteers:

(A UBI student inspects a patient's "bottom bracket" for polyps.)

When it comes to cancer, early (and artisanal) detection is they key to prevention.

Also, apparently Portlanders can't even get through a pint of organic beer or an order of organic french fries without being tempted to perform bike maintenance, which is why the BikeBar has "loaner tools:"

"Hold that thought--I really should service my hub bearings. Can you watch my organic seven-grain stout?"

But clearly the most important amenities are the "'Plug Out' exer-cycles that you can spin and generate electricity while you wait for your order." This is a stroke of genius on the part of the owners, since it simultaneously preys on Portlanders' compulsion to pedal bicycles at all times as well as their borderline pathological need to feel good about themselves, thereby ensuring that the establishment never has to pay a single utility bill. Now that's how you harness the power of smugness.

Meanwhile, when it comes to bicycle-themed entrepreneurship we New Yorkers are woefully behind. However, there is the odd flicker of brilliance, such as this Kickstarter pitch from a Brooklyn man for a bicycle "break" light:


Unfortunately, there are a few problems with this device. For one thing, as far as I can tell, the light only works when you use your brake, which means you're still cloaked in darkness in a non-braking situation. This dovetails into the second problem, which is that nobody uses brakes anymore anyway. If he invented some sort of tire that shoots sparks when you skid then perhaps he'd be on to something. As a bonus, such a tire would open the door for brakeless riders to immolate themselves should they attempt to skid in the vicinity of a fuel spill.

Still, I was inspired by his somewhat disjointed story about how he was inspired to invent the brake light, which is basically that he got into an altercation with a cyclist after nearly running the cyclist over. This reminds me of the Festivus origin story in its sheer negativity. Also, it should go without saying that the kid in the tie-dye is awesome:


His thumbs don't go down for two and a half minutes:


His visage is also nothing short of mezmerizing:

In fact, I haven't been so entranced since my encounter with the Nonplussed Journalist:


His gaze was so persuasive that, despite my initial skepticism, I'd somehow ended up pledging $20,000:

We also now have the exact same haircut, though for the life of me I can't remember going to the barber.

Speaking of brakelessness, a reader recently forwarded me this video of a "midnite crit" in our notion's carpital:

DC Midnite Crit from In The Crosshairs on Vimeo.

I'm always excited to watch a Nü-Fred on-the-bike slapfight, and I knew the competition was going to be fierce when I saw how much trouble some of the participants have with putting on their helmets:


While others forego helmets altogether and opt for the time-honored "windblown butt-cut" look:


The riders tear through corners at a moderate clip, making sure not to use their drops lest they inadvertently pick up speed:


As for the course, "It's about a 10-mile, 10-lap course...crit style, no one gets dropped:"

This explanation puzzled me for two reasons. Firstly, since when does "crit-style" mean no one gets dropped? I can assure you that people do get dropped in crits, and in fact I've been dropped in every single crit I've ever entered. Secondly, at almost no point in the video are any two riders anywhere near each other, which technically means that everybody got dropped--except for the winner, of course. Really, this is less a "crit" than it is a "hipster ITT."

Speaking of the winner, he gets a trophy, and then scowls like a man who knows just how badass it is to beat a bunch of people who don't know how to put on their helmets:

Like tying your own shoes or doing your own laundry, winning trophies is impressive when you're a young child but becomes less so with each passing year. However, in the hipster community all of these feats are sources of great pride until you're well into your 30s. In fact, some say winning a trophy in no-drop crit is the first step to becoming a GNC fixie model, as forwarded to me by a fellow Tweeterer:


Fixie crits may be the new triathlon.

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The Price of Meh: How Low Can a Fred Get?

This past weekend was an auspicious one in the world of riding road bikes as quickly as possible, for it marked the start of the Giro d'Italia, which is a three-week bicycle cycling race that takes place in Italy. I'm pleased to announce that this race is off to a flambullient start, for with only two stages down we've already gotten to see both a Mark Cavendish temper tantrum and at least one close-up of Mario Cipollini, whose tanned and unctuous visage looks uncannily like a freshly-oiled Brooks. (Cipollini has actually been known to exploit this resemblance for lascivious purposes, as you can see in this unsafe-for-work video.) Also, as I mentioned on Friday, I'm "covering" the Giro for the "Bicycling" magazine website, and they've even devised a special graphic to accompany my missives:

Not only was I pleased to find that "Bicycling" did not exhaust all its considerable design prowess with their "epic" redesign, but with a few minor tweaks I will also be able to repurpose this image when I launch my new sandwich blog:

Some might call that stealing, but I prefer to think of it as sustainable logo recycling.

Meanwhile, closer to (my) home, yesterday the Gran Fondo New York took place, and by the looks of things it was a total "Fred-pocalypse:"

I was sequestered on my own side of the "Big Skanky" yesterday, but when I look at this image all I can see are thousands and thousands of profoundly disappointed mothers.

Speaking of absurd contests and stunning graphics, you may recall that on Friday I also announced the "There Will Be Action Wipes" contest:

Well, subsequent to this announcement something of a Twitter frenzy ensued (by "frenzy" I mean one or two people exchanged Tweets), and the upshot of all this social networking is that, in addition to winning actual Action Wipes, you can also win a Liz Hatch video courtesy of Cyclefilm:

That's a £12.99 £7.99 value! (£7.99 is roughly equivalent to US$978.00). Now, I'm not going to tell the winner what to do with a pack of Action Wipes and a Liz Hatch DVD, but whatever you decide I suggest that you keep it to yourself. In the meantime, the contest entries have been coming frequently and often, like a person with a pack of Action Wipes and a Liz Hatch DVD. Just some of the submissions I've received include this public restroom door-worthy example:

This simplified rendering, complete with "flavor saver:"

(Via "Pseudo Rhys")

And this bold imagining which shows the proposed international symbol for cycling in situ and even incorporates some Action Wipes product placement:

As for the slogan, this should not imply that Action Wipes are not safe or gentle enough for a baby's butt--they certainly are, because they're not moistened with toxins, caustic acids, and recycled developer recovered from old photo labs like some of their competitors' wipes.

Of course, not every submission adhered strictly to the "international symbol for cycling" requirement, but while this may cost them overall victory it does not make them any less artistically valid:

One day, this will hang from suburban bedroom walls all over North America, right next to the Justin Bieber posters. I feel strongly that the time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork would make a wholesome and inspirational role model for "the youth"--much more so than those fixie riders with their rapping musics and their designer sweatshirts, and even more than professional cyclists with their unfinished tattoos and their doping scandals.

This is not to say that doping is the exclusive domain of the professional--far from it. When it comes to emulating the pros, some Freds do not stop with the crabon wheelsets and the power meters, and some even go as far as to taste the forbidden nectar of the performance-enhancing substance. In fact, a reader recently informed me that one such rider, journalist Andrew Tilin, has written a book about his experiences as a doping Cat 4:

Tilin started doping in January of 2008, and his results as of that date will be nullified. So what were those results? Well, you can see them here, and they basically amount to a bunch of mediocre finishes in his local races. Evidently, even with the aid of performance enhancing drugs, Tilin was unable to reach the podium in a single Cat 4 race. I'm guessing his goals were more journalistic than they were competitive, but even so, if he needs to dope in order to be a lousy Cat 4 than he should probably give up cycling, in the same way that someone who thinks the Grateful Dead suck even after smoking a bunch of "wednesday Weed" should probably quit trying to be a Deadhead.

But such are the perils of Fred-dom, and as much as the bicycle can be a tool for self-discovery and actualization, so can it lead you to your own demise. Who among us has not either known or indeed been a Fred who got sucked into the delusional spiral of training, and spending, and upgrading, all at the expense of personal relationships, professional advancement, and happiness? In this regard the bicycle can be a malevolent seductress, and a siren leading us to perdition. This is not limited to the traditional Fred, either, and the so-called "Nü-Fred" can also fall victim. Consider this video, forwarded by a reader, about a rider preparing for the Red Hook Criterium:



Evidently, the filmmaker is aiming to become the hipster Bud Greenspan, and amazingly he has raised over $1,000:

Here's the pitch:

This is a story about one rider's journey towards his first-ever Red Hook Crit. Frank Warren, owner of the Breukelen Coffee House in Crown Heights, is a passionate amateur cyclist who dreams of making a podium finish and cementing his name on the fixed gear circuit. But running a successful business while training for the biggest race of his life is a difficult balancing act. Can he do both?

It's depressing that fixed-gear self-glorification has come to this, a movie that asks the question: "Can one man balance a job and a hobby?" Plus, he's not even having fun:

"I wanna win. I'm not doing this for fun."

Then again, maybe I'm missing the point of the film. Maybe it's a parody. Or, maybe it's actually about being in complete and utter self-denial. To wit:

"This ain't no hipster shit."

No, not at all. I'm looking forward to the sequel to this movie, in which a freelance graphic designer attempts to balance his grueling 20-hour workweek with his burning desire to never, ever miss a single happy hour.

Speaking of Kickstarter, it is rapidly establishing itself as a real incubator for gratuitous cycling accessories, and I recently learned via the Tweeter that someone is working on a pair of titanium salad tongs that doubles as a bike lock:

On one hand, this could be a failure since hipsters can't stick it in their back pockets. On the other, it could be a huge success, since when you arrive at a barbecue you can easily remove your own frankfurter from the grill. Either way, if this ever makes it to market, they should make sure to include at least one disembodied hipster hand, as forwarded to me by yet another reader:

Now that's choking your Cinelli.

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