Like Attracts Like: Don't Feed the Narratives

Recently, I received an email from a company, or concern, or enterprise, or organization, or entity, or whatever the proper term is, called "Dedicated Lane Productions, Inc." The purpose of this email was to alert me to a Kickstarter campaign for a Critical Mass documentary entitled "Last Friday of the Month."

Since I'm a blogger with a blog on the Internet, I assumed they sent me this email because they wanted me to mention it on my Internet blog that I have. So I mentioned it.

Subsequently, the director of the documentary left a lengthy comment on my Internet blog that I have (this one, not the other one about urban beekeeping), followed by a couple of lengthy emails. Now, I confess I had a bit of trouble following the comment and the emails. This is because: a) I have a poor attention span; and b) the prose was somewhat rambling, and at times flirted with the line between spontaneous bop prosody and incoherence.

However, I came away from it all with the impression that he was angry at me because I wasn't sufficiently effusive about his project, but he kind of maybe had a sense of humor about the whole thing, but really he was mostly angry. In any case, I sent him a friendly reply, and I might have forgotten about the whole thing, but then I noticed this was appended to one of the emails:


I could be mistaken, but that appears to be a disembodied arm clubbing a seal representing my blog, set alongside some kind of ripoff of the Public Enemy logo.

Or maybe it's a cricket bat, and the seal is drunk.

Either way, they say a picture is worth a thousand words. I suppose this is true, because the director had sent me something like three thousand words that I didn't understand, but here was a single picture that made it abundantly clear he wants to club me. And I certainly don't want to be clubbed--especially if it happens on the last Friday of the month, since the traffic will be all snarled up thanks to Critical Mass and the emergency services vehicles won't be able to get to me.

Anyway, I prefer to take the illustration in the spirit of humor and assume it's just the director's idea of parody. Plus, he's certainly more than entitled to make jokes at my expense. Still, I can't get over my irritation over the notion that we're all just supposed to like stuff nowadays. I'm not sure if it's the Internet or just the cyclical nature of popular attitudes, but frankly it seems the way things work lately is that people fabricate narratives about themselves and then our job as readers/viewers/consumers or whatever we are is to accept those narratives and congratulate them for their efforts. Here's the template:

--Guy in a hat decides he's a bike racer, we're supposed to celebrate his "passion" and "sportsmanship;"

--Filmmaker decides a massive inconvenience is actually a great political movement, we're supposed to celebrate Critical Massers as civil rights heroes and fund the film;

--Douchebag decides throwing out his books and buying an iPad makes him an aescetic, we're supposed to celebrate "minimalism" as a bold new lifestyle;

--Car company incorporates bikes into their advertising, we're supposed to celebrate them for embracing cycling;

--Hipsters import chocolate to Brooklyn on schooner and sell it for $9 a bar, we're supposed to celebrate it as "artisanal."

And so forth.

There's nothing wrong with any of this. We all write narratives for ourselves. The outline consists of our hopes, ambitions, pleasures, and desires, and we then set about fleshing it out as best we can. That's what life is. But that doesn't mean we all have to buy the chocolate. I mean, sure, if it's worth it to you go right ahead, but don't get upset when someone says, "Fuck that, I'm buying a Kit-Kat."

Also, clearly the Critical Mass documentary director isn't just blindly "liking" things. He's participating in Critical Mass because he doesn't like something, and in fact he doesn't like something so strongly that he's actually gone to jail for it. Still, that doesn't mean I can't not like the way he doesn't like something, since I also believe the way he goes about not liking stuff makes people not like me. Ultimately, I just can't help feeling like Critical Mass goes a bit too far, in that the participants write the rest of us into their self-serving narrative.

Incidentally, in browsing the Dedicated Lane, Inc. website, I also noticed a documentary about a "punk" sorry, "ska-core" band, entitled "Fuck Brakes:"

F*#K Brakes Trailer from Spike Project on Vimeo.

They're changing the world one formulaic song at a time.

In any case, while I tend to keep my distance from Critical Mass because I don't agree with it, I also don't follow RAAM--not because I don't agree with it, but because it just plain freaks me out. I think we all have a different notion of when a sport goes from "dramatic" to "stupid," and for me it's when the competitors have to put duct tape on their heads. Basically, it's the kinbaku of bicycle racing. Still, even though I don't follow RAAM, I did read this article about it in The New York Times:

Apparently, unlike more attractively gruelling races such as the Tour de France, RAAM is free from doping scandals:

While professional cycling has been rocked by numerous drug scandals, no RAAM rider has failed a drug test. Most say that there is no incentive to cheat in the race because it awards no prize money.

Right, I'm sure nobody has ever cheated in RAAM. If people are doping to win amateur bike races--as duct tape guy did--then I'm sure someone at some point has cheated in RAAM. By the way, the condition that requires duct tape is apparently called "Shermer's Neck:"

Goldstein completed the race in just over 11 days despite dealing with Shermer’s Neck, a painful condition that afflicts many ultracyclists who spend upwards of 22 hours a day hunched over their bikes and makes it difficult to keep their head up. Eight days into the race, Goldstein’s team kept her on the road by braiding tape in her hair and tying it to her heart-rate monitor or bra to keep her head pulled back.

I thought Shermer's Neck was a fancy neighborhood on Long Island. That should show you what a RAAM "noob" I am.

But the real story at RAAM this year was that the winner is a bike messenger, though I'm sure his words will sting his fellow messengers like peeling off duct tape too fast:

“I don’t know if I’ll go back to being a bike messenger,” he said after his rest. “I like people who are successful but keep their ordinary jobs, but if you do something great, you should maybe make something out of it.”

So, like, what? Being a messenger isn't "something great?" I though bike messengers were urban heroes; fierce warriors; bold riders on the very labia of the Vagina of Chaos. At least that's what all those messenger videos seen to want me to believe. And speaking of messengers, even though "Triple Rush" has been cancelled, videos continue to appear like the tingling of a phantom limb. Here's one in which a messenger boots a tire:

Triple Rush - Tire Patch Trick from Triple Rush on Vimeo.

Sure, anyone who has ever flipped through a copy of "Bicycling" knows how to boot a tire, but I'm sure the producers thought it represented the very pinnacle of street-savvy ingenuity. Plus, as the messenger himself puts it:

"If you're riding hard and you're riding fast which we have to, you really have to try to make stuff last as long as possible."

Absolutely. To that end, here are a couple of helpful money-saving tire tips.

Money-Saving Tire Tip #1:

Use a Brake.

I couldn't help noticing that, in addition to being bamboo, the messenger's bike is also brakeless:

I know this is mind-blowing information, but when you stop by skidding your tire doesn't last as long.

Tire Money Saving Tip #2:

Don't use a $50 road racing tire.

If you insist on using your rear tire as your brake, don't spend "$45-$50" on narrow, lightweight road racing tires.

But I guess when you're a TV messenger, it goes without saying that saving money always comes second to remaining fashionable.

By the way, when it comes to the actual booting, if you're a cash-strapped messenger, use a $1 bill:

However, if you're a roadie and you like to spend extra money on stuff for no reason or discernible performance gain, use a $100 bill instead:

(The $100 bill, also known as the "Fred Boot.")

Just tell yourself bigger bills have a higher thread count and will give you a more supple ride.

I'm pretty sure I read that in "Bicycling."

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Once, Twice, Three Times a Rush: Manifest Density

While certain career choices involve following a proscribed path, others require that you make your own way and learn as you go along. For example, if you want to become a dentist, your path is clear: pass the dentisting high school equivalency test, establish proof of Serotta ownership, buy yourself a Dremel, and let the drilling commence. On the other hand, if you want to become a cat psychic, it is up to you to discover and nurture your inner power to swindle lonely single people out of their disposable income.

Like reading cats' minds, bicycle messengering is another superfluous vocation for which there is no set path--at least until last year, when Wesleyan University announced that it would be offering a BA in "Human-Powered Couriership." However, spending four years in a sheltered environment that allows you to carefully construct an identity before you field test it in a slightly larger sheltered environment such as Williamsburg, Brooklyn or Portland, OR can be a costly endeavor. So what do you do if you just want to "get right to it" like they did "back in the day" when Americans actually had moxie?

Well, you visit the website of the Travel Channel, of course, because with "Triple Rush" about to "drop" they're offering a Bike Messenger Gear Guide. I sure hope you've been saving those pennies, since you'll need a lot of stuff. For example, no messenger worth his or her "taint" goes to work without "padded leggins:"

Some bikers choose to wear padded leggins when then bike.

I don't know what "padded leggins" means, but it sounds like it should be the name of a cartoon leprechaun.

Unfortunately though there's no pot of gold at the end of your messenger career, just six figures in unpaid hospital bills you can start paying off in 30 years after you've finally paid off that college loan.

Regardless, you should also make sure your wardrobe incorporates a "pop of color," since your new career's "cool factor" rests entirely on the impression you make when you saunter into that modeling agency or design firm with their precious cargo.

You'll also need a soundtrack:

If it's a slow day at work, bring along some tunes. They always help the day to move along.

This is tremendously important, mostly because it will be a slow day at work since nobody really needs you. Really, the only thing keeping the messenger industry alive is that a few companies still think it's cooler to summon NYU grads clad in "padded leggins" of eye-popping color than to hit the "send" button on their email program. Also, you'll need a soundtrack for when you're riding, since--and this may come as a shock to you--cool music doesn't actually play while you're riding around New York City like it does in all those fixed-gear videos you've been watching.

But the most important accessory of all? Sunglasses:

Please. Don't forget your shades. The last thing you want is to get in an accident and blame it on the sun.

Yes, you'll need those just in case you're in exactly the right place and heading in exactly the right direction at exactly the right time for the sun to actually shine between two skyscrapers and into your eyes like in that map scene in the first Indiana Jones movie. (If this happens, start digging immediately, because you're standing on the Ark of the Covenant.)

Oddly though, while the Travel Channel recommends sunglasses for safety, it doesn't actually say anything about helmets--except that you should have a camera on yours, since as a 21st century urban cyclist you are nothing more than an organic media content farm. You might also think about buying "bike shoes:"

Some bike messengers choose to wear bike shoes, which helps them grip the pedals better.

That's pretty much the worst description of clipless pedals I've ever read.

But where you hang out while you're off the clock is just as important as the padding in your leggins, so I took the Travel Channel's advice:

See a listing of the Bike Messenger Hot Spots for a list of their hangout spots and favorite bike shops in New York City.

And checked out those "hangout spots:"

Apparently, when they're not working, bike messengers like to hang out at the Diesel for Hipsters Chrome store. By the way, further to yesterday's post in which I talked about people taking liberties with quotes, this testimonial makes me suspicious:

"I love (their) messenger bags and gear!"

– Jenessa, bike messenger from Breakaway

Without the parenthetical "their," this just says "I love messenger bags and gear!" We know this. Obviously she loves messenger bags and gear in general--that's why she decided to put her double major in Spanish and International Relations to work by becoming a messenger. It's like joining the army because you're really into what Best Made Co. is doing. But does she really love Chrome's messenger bags and gear specifically, or did they just slip that "(their)" in there gratuitously as the parentheses suggest? Or, when you're on a show like this, is everything you say just a big Mad Libs into which the producers slip brand names and products as needed?

Either way, "Triple Rush" promises to do to the image of New York City cyclists what Yakov Smirnoff did for the image of Russians:

Triple Rush - Danger from Triple Rush on Vimeo.

The above video adheres to the bicycle messenger video style manual, which mandates that any video must include messengers talking about how dangerous their job is while simultaneously including footage of them doing their job in the most idiotically dangerous way possible. Here's one genius riding right into a cab:

I'd like to see a video from the IBEW in which electricians talk about how dangerous their job is, intercut with footage of them randomly stabbing at wall outlets with forks.

But it's not just the danger--it's also the fact that nobody respects them or realizes how important they are:

Oh, man, there are so many obstacles when you're a bike messenger. Like, the guy glued to his cellphone just walking out in front of you, the woman who sees you but she's like, "I'm gonna cross against the light anyways," or you've got the cabbie who's, like, trying to kill you, like run you down, then you've got, like, someone just opening their door, like, wide in the middle of the street...

I wish people would pay more attention too, but in New York City those aren't "obstacles," they're real life--and real life doesn't stop and get out of your way just because you have an envelope to deliver. Unless you're driving an ambulance and someone's bleeding to death in the back of it, it's your job to look out for everybody else. And yes, this does involve stopping for self-involved douchebags on cellphones on occasion.

None of this is to say that riding in New York City isn't full of danger, but messengers should not have the monopoly on bragging about it. Actually, these days in New York City the most daring and defiant type of cycling is the simple act of commuting:

Maybe the Travel Channel should make a show about that.

Meanwhile, in Copenhagen, a reader informs me that the smugness is so highly refined that people actually move sofas with their "bake feets:"

As P.J. O'Rourke said in his Wall Street Journal editorial, "The bicycle is the only method of conveyance worse than feet. You can walk up three flights of stairs carrying one end of a sofa. Try that on a bicycle." It's heartening to see someone actually taking him up on the challenge, and perhaps as an encore he can also manage to insert the sofa into O'Rourke's anal cavity.

I'm not sure the Travel Channel would air that, but it would make a great pay-per-view special.

Speaking of "bake feets," I'm not sure what the opposite of one would be, but a road bike with aerobars would certainly be a good candidate. This is just the sort of bike the time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork rides, and an astude reader recently spotted both his bike and his helmet in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel:

This led the reader to conclude that the items had been stolen, and a closer inspection reveals that it certainly is the same bike and the same helmet:

For one fleeting moment, I experienced a flicker of hope when I thought, "Perhaps the retro-Fred has temporarily exchanged his t-shirt and half-shorts for a business suit." Alas, I was merely deluding myself. Just look at the lithe, limber grace with which the retro-Fred drapes himself over the aerobars. He and the bike are as one, and there's just no way he could feign suit guy's awkwardness and discomfort. It would be like asking Teddy Pendergrass to sing off-key in a shrill and nasal voice--he couldn't do it no matter how hard he tried.

Plus, suit guy doesn't have a "soul patch."

Anyway, now that suit guy is in possession of the retro-Fred bike I wonder if he will become as ubiquitous as its erstwhile owner. He's certainly available:

Then again, he does face some stiff competition, most notably from this guy:

The website describes this image in a rather stilted fashion:

An African American biker guy riding his classic street bike with a focused look of concentration on his face.

Wow. I would have described this a bit differently, probably along the lines of: "A young man riding a bicycle with a schmatta on his head bursts forth from a mystical orange background in surreal fashion, his lips pursed as though he's drinking from the magical juice box of Jesus."

Also, he's clearly well-versed in the art of the "doucheclamation point:"

As ridiculous as some of these poses are, none of them rivals the introduction to this write-up of a $360 cycling dress shirt which was forwarded to me by yet another reader:

It's always hilarious to see the makeshift ways businessmen who bike to work stash their stuff. Take my dad. He hooks a shopping bag around his handle bars, which looks only slightly less ridiculous than what he used to do: carry a mini backpack. To give you a proper visual: My father is 6-foot-5 and could easily be mistaken for a grizzly bear.

This made me really angry. Here's a businessman who actually rides his bicycle to work and who foregoes all the expensive panniers and handmade bags and artisanal racks everybody thinks you need to commute by bike these days. Instead, he simply uses a shopping bag, or a simple backpack. He's a practical man, a hardworking man, a frugal man. A man who always supported his daughter, and who provided for her instead of buying more canvas luggage for his Rivendell. So how does this daughter repay him? She becomes a snotty design editor and says he looks like a freakish grizzly bear in a review of an overpriced cycling shirt.

And what's so ridiculous about a backpack anyway? How is it worse than riding around in a dress shirt with pockets on the back with a bunch of crap sticking out of them? How do you even tuck it in?

I bet it's even better in the office.

"Hey, Walter, do you have that brief for me?"

"Sure, here it is, it's in the back pocket of my dress shirt...whoops, looks like it got a little lower back sweat on it."

Then again, this could be the perfect shirt for commuting in New York City, since you can actually access your pockets while you're handcuffed.

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Effort Less Speed: Why You Need a New Bike

Spring is here, and with the warmth, sunshine, and allergy attacks comes bicycle racing season. By this point you should already have evaluated your strengths and weaknesses based on last season's performance, and now you should be implementing your new training program and moving forward in attaining this season's racing goals. That'll be $500, thank you for your patronage.

Sincerely,

BSNYC/RTMS Performance Systems, Inc.

Of course, even the best-laid and most costly training plans are worthless without the proper equipment. Did you know the bicycle on which you mounted your amateur lower-category racing campaign last year is already hopelessly out of date? It's true. Shimano put their shifter cables under the bar tape like three years ago now, and everybody knows you can't win with exposed cable housing. You also can't win if your bottom bracket is not "beefy" enough, and if you're using some antiquated threaded affair you might as well be lashing at your fellow dentists with a cold soba noodle.

That's why you need state-of-the-art performance if you're going to make the leap from Category 4 to Category 3, where you'll finally get to rub elbows, cross wheels, and crash with the "big boys" of the "meh"-loton. And evidently, you can't get more statier-of-the-artsier than the Specialized S-Works Venge (which should not be confused with Stan and Yosh Schmenge):

Don't believe me? Well, suck on this:

Ride & handling: Effortless speed and razor-sharp handling

Less than 24 hours after HTC-Highroad’s Matthew Goss’s win at San Remo on the McLaren Venge, we put the S-Works model through its paces on the very same roads. And it’s every bit as good as we’d hoped. It was just a shame the ride had to come to an end, and if we could have bundled it away in our suitcase we would have done.

In other words:

1) Matthew Goss won a race on it, and there's no way he would have won if he were using a different bicycle. By extension, this means you will win on it too;

2) It has EFFORTLESS SPEED! You know how you have to put effort into your current bicycle in order to make it move? Well, no more--this one goes by itself. What's that you say? You want proof? Well, does this look like a man who's making an effort?

Yeah, maybe...an effort to be AWESOME.

3) The handling is sharp as a razor. What does this mean exactly? Well, like a razor, you have to handle it incredibly gingerly or you'll wind up in a pool of blood. Sharp, dangerous, and unforgiving--now that's good bike.

Still not convinced? Well, clearly you're an idiot, but if you insist on "data" here you go:

Even more impressive was the razor-sharp handling on the descents. Tight bends were negotiated with confidence, thanks in part to the Venge's Specialized Turbo tyres and Roval Rapide SL45 carbon wheels. Vibration was largely offset by the S-Works SL carbon handlebars and FACT seatpost, and made for a smooth ride on the downslopes.

Right, so apart from the crabon wheels the bike's awesomeness comes mostly from the tires, handlebars, and seatpost--none of which can be changed on your current bike. So if you don't like your tires, buy a Specialized Venge Schmenge Happy S-Wanderer.

(Interestingly, the reviewer notes that "if we could have bundled it away in our suitcase we would have done." Ironically, the ability to do that is the only thing that would possibly make this bike worth almost $9,000.)

Speaking of pro cycling, everybody knows Alberto Contador tested positive for Clenbuterol and then blamed it on a piece of tainted steak. Well, a reader recently informed me that Clenbuterol is also abundant in Chinese pigs:

Subsequently, Contador issued a press release in which he announced that he "like totally forgot he had pork chops and not steak," and as evidence also included this photo from the post-stage team barbecue that took place on the evening in question:

His claims may not be kosher on a number of levels, but I'm sure they'll be good enough for the UCI.

But what's that you say? You don't want to emulate the pros? You say you don't want to spend $9,000 on a crabon razor and that the taste of Clenbuterol makes you dry-heave? Well, why not spend a mere $1,300 on a "gorgeously simple city bike," as forwarded to me by a reader:


Yes, whoever "curated" this review really knows what he's talking about:

Elian custom builds the frames by hand, and bike nerds will notice the elegant, triple-triangle design created by the unusual weld of the seat stays -- an old trick pioneered by GT that lends added strength to one of the bike's weakest points. And the parts are just as thoughtfully curated -- in the pictures above, note how the stem matches the color of the frame, giving the whole thing just the right amount of flash (which is to say, almost none); also note the drop-dead gorgeous Campagnolo cranks and chain-ring. Unlike a lot of single-speeds you see, this isn't a track bike. There's already mounts for both front and rear brakes. And, if you want customizations or different parts, Elian will happily oblige.

Right, GT pioneered that frame design in 1923, over 50 years before the company was founded:

He also makes a good point about how this isn't a track bike. He's right, it isn't--though it's almost exactly as practical. An alligator isn't a crocodile either, but they both make equally lousy house pets.

Of course, the worst part about having a $1,300 city bike is the fact that it's bound to get stolen sooner or later. In fact, even the most street-smartest cyclists occasionally fall victim to theft. Take bike messengers and the people who imitate them. Subsequent to "Monster Track" (the Lillith Fair of alleycats) somebody actually made off with the winner's prize:


We have put out an all-points bulletin on this ReLoad bag,stolen on Saturday March 12 at the Rock Star Bar. This was done literally in front of 300 plus people. Its the first place bag won by Crihs in this years monstertrack alleycat. Thing is,its the only one made in the world,and its mind-boggling to think that anyone in their right mind would even attempt to wear it. IF you have it, return it to anyone involved in monstertrack,no questions ask,or just risk being known as the worst person alive. This bag bleeds blood,sweat,tears hard work and Crihs and ReLoad deserve better!
Description:

black,with yellow trim,green “monstertrack” font yellow/lime ” XII” font

Repost this sh*t, and like i said,we catch you with this bag,we raining U locks on your face.dead fuckin serious

I too am astonished that the theft was "done literally in front of 300 plus people," because it must be extremely difficult to leave a crowded bar full of drunken hipsters while carrying a messenger bag. In fact, it's probably almost as difficult as leaving Citi Field with someone else's Mets cap. More astonishing is the outrage expressed in the post. I thought these guys were "outlaws," and you'd think they'd know that when you live by the petty crime, you "die" by the petty crime. Then again, I guess when someone doesn't obey the "code of the nerds streetzzz" it can be tremendously upsetting--like when your friend cheats at D&D.

Most confusing though is the request that "IF you have it, return it to anyone involved in monstertrack, no questions ask," which is then followed by "we catch you with this bag,we raining U locks on your face.dead fuckin serious." I think they might have tipped their hand a bit too soon with that last part. A little hint if you're trying to lay a trap for someone: Don't reveal the "what you're going to do to them" part until after you've caught them.

Naturally, it wasn't long before the inevitable fake Craigslist post emerged:

Which apparently managed to dupe at least a few people.

Trap-laying hint #2: If the ad uses the same image as the "stolen" post, then it's probably not legitimate.

So much for street smarts.

In any case, as the demand for bike messengers dwindles and alleycats become less like messenger races and more like ceremonies commemorating a bygone era (think Civil War reenactments), it will soon become necessary to build artificial habitats to preserve the messenger way of life. As the sixth wealthiest person in the world, I'm doing my part by investing in a planned and artificially-distressed community called Hermes Arms:

(Artist's rendering of the finished product.)

The messengers of today will feel perfectly at home there tomorrow. Just look at these amenities:

Highlights include:

Pregentrificationburg: A prefab "neighborhood" that evokes Williamsburg during that late-90s "magic hour" when "cool" people lived there but it hadn't yet become "cool;"

Divey's Dive Bar: Where residents will gather, drink, and tell war stories after a day of "working." Happy Hour starts at 10:30am, and there's even an early bird special.

Bacon Community Center: Endowed by celebrity messenger Kevin Bacon, there will be screenings of dated films such as MASH and Macaframa, as well as performances by tired old punk bands from the neighboring retirement community;

There's also a fully-functioning health center that will deny you care (no self-respecting messenger has health insurance), an arts and crafts center that will offer bag-making classes, a film production facility so residents can keep obsessively documenting their lifestyle just like they did on the "outside," and of course an aquatic therapy center to rehabilitate those fixie-ravaged knees.

Reserve your loft space today!

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Hold Your Lane: Rough Crossings and Triple Rushes

This past Friday, I mentioned that the nebbishes of Park Slope are complaining about (and indeed suing the city over) the extra safety afforded them by their new bike lane, while elsewhere crossing the street remains a high-risk endeavor. I also incorporated video of a crosswalk on Coney Island Avenue to show just how treacherous these crossings can be, which was about as interesting as watching skin form over a pudding--assuming of course that the pudding was sitting in the middle of Coney Island Avenue and in danger of being splattered by light-running cars.

Anyway, as an inexperienced smugness videographer, I failed in two regards:

1) I did not place a cup of pudding in the middle of Coney Island Avenue in order to ratchet up the drama;

2) I did not also create a video of what it's like to cross the controversial Prospect Park West bike lane which would serve as a basis for comparison.

Fortunately, though, it turns out that smugness factory Streetsblog recently did post such a video (still no pudding, sadly), and here it is:



So there you have it. Amazingly, Park Slopers like this woman who looks like early man in a turtleneck:

and this man who looks like an undead Harpo Marx:

think that the Prospect Park West bike lane is too dangerous, while the rest of us are supposed to make do with the seven-second death scramble.

Seems fair to me. As long as they're happy.

Speaking of city planning, whilst utilizing the Twitter I came across the following review of the book I wrate, and while I wouldn't ordinarily subject you to literary criticism I must say that I found the last line deeply offensive:

Having based pretty much every important life decision I've ever made on reducing the likelihood that I will ever have to take a bus, it horrifies me to think that someone might actually opt for that mode of transport over simply affixing two pieces of plastic (or, if you're pretentious and irresistibly compelled to divest yourself of money, hammered metal) to his bicycle.

I've long been searching for the perfect antonym for "epic," and while I guess it's not technically an antonym in that it's a phrase instead of a word, I nevertheless think I may have found it in "If it rains take the bus."

After all, you won't catch bike messengers taking the bus--or using fenders for that matter. This is because their lives are the very definition of "epic" (assuming you're using the sixth definition, which is "risking your life in a fashionable manner without remuneration"), as you will soon see in the new Travel Channel reality show, "Triple Rush:"


Yes, it's even more of a rush than the last time a television production company tried to capture the excitement and irreverence of bringing things to people by bicycle, which was only a "Double Rush:"

If nothing else, "Double Rush" brings us back to a time when mountain bikes were still "edgy" and before they were relegated to the trunk racks of Nissan Pathfinders owned by people with a fondness for baggy shorts and bands like Godsmack, and at the same time affords us a clue of what cultural fate awaits the fixed-gear bicycle.

Of course, this being 2011, the latest iteration of the messenger TV show will take reality show form. (The sitcom was long moribund even before Charlie Sheen sounded its death knell with his latest meltdown.) However, even a reality show takes time to produce, so it's worth noting that this was probably "greenlit" while messengers were enjoying their latest fixed-gear-inspired burst of popularity, and before everyone got bored of them and started doing tricks on their "fixies" instead. Given this, and the fact that a "Triple Rush" is 50% more rush-y than a "Double Rush," it will be interesting to see if this latest show lasts 50% longer than its predecessor, or if it gets cancelled 50% faster.

This is not to say that "Triple Rush" doesn't have a lot going for it--it undoubtedly does, for it boasts a formidable cast. There's a token hipster:

As well as a token hipster:

And even a token hipster:

By the way, if you're a student of hipster mathematics, you probably figured out that:

Andrew = Dillon + Seven Years of Living in Williamsburg

If that was too easy for you, here's another one. What does X equal here?

Jenessa + Two Years of Being a Bike Messenger = X

If you answered "X = Heather," then you're correct:

Though X = Jenessa - All Her Teeth would also have been acceptable.

You've also got to give the Travel Channel credit for putting together a great website, for not only is there information about the show, but there's also lots of gritty real-world video about what it's like to be a messenger on the streetzzz. For example, I really enjoyed "Bike Messenger must-haves:"

"You really need to invest in good outdoor clothing."

That's right, you heard him--when you're out there on the streetzzz, be sure to wear clothing that was designed to be worn outside. So skip the silk pajamas, Kevin Bacon:

(Not appropriate messenger attire.)

Then there's the obligatory let's-brag-about-how-much-we-crash, which you'll find in "Worst bike accidents in NYC:"


"Just constant injury almost. It's just a dirty job."

I've watched countless messenger-themed videos at this point, and I still can't figure out if they think all the crashing is a good thing or a bad thing.

Anyway, if "Triple Rush" is a hit, hopefully the Travel Channel will spin off some other exciting shows about people's jobs, like "Venti Latte:"

"You really need to invest in a good apron. Just constant exposure to milk almost, it's definitely not a job for the lactose intolerant. If you don't think it's as hardcore as being a bike messenger then you never had to kick a homeless guy out of the bathroom."

After that they could do "Priority Mail:"

"You really need to invest in a good sun hat. Just constant exposure to anthrax almost, plus we deliver envelopes, use big bags, and work in foul weather just like bike messengers do. Sure, we have benefits and a union, but that doesn't make us any less hardcore. Taxis are nothing compared to a disgruntled coworker with an automatic rifle. Cute bike there, Quicksilver, come say 'hello' to David Berkowitz."

Speaking of "epic" (I was many paragraphs ago), cycledom's foremost purveyors of "epic," Rapha, are so profoundly "epic" that they have transcended videos of epic riding and have broken through into the rarefied world of epic soups:


Sure, you could just open up a can of Progresso--and if it rains, you could also take the bus.

Because you can't spell "recipe" without "epic." (Or without transposing the "p" and the "c.")

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This Just In: Off to Seattle!

Today is the day I depart for Seattle and its eponymous Bicycle Expo, and I am looking forward to experiencing the many and subtle variations of rain the city will have to offer me during my short visit:

Because I will be busy soaking, I will not be posting tomorrow or Monday, but I will be returning to this blog on Tuesday, March 15th with regular updates. However, if you're in Seattle this weekend and you're not too busy mourning the death of the latest grunge-era musician, you can come to the Expo and see me chatter nervously and give a half-assed PowerPoint presentation at the following times:

--Saturday at 1:20pm;

--Sunday at 12:30pm.

I'll try to make them different in the extraordinary case that you attend both.

Also, on Saturday at 4:15pm, I'll be on the "Laughing At Ourselves" panel, which sounds like a class they should offer at Bard, and on Sunday morning at 10:30am we'll be riding from Uptown Espresso on Queen Anne Ave. N to the Expo in a non-competitive and conversational fashion.

Then, I return to my home and my hermetic ways.

Also, guess who else will be performing at the expo? (Hint, they're German, they ride "fixies," and they wear leotards):

Take or leave my presentation, but you'd have to be crazy to miss that.

Speaking of crazy, yesterday I mentioned John Cassidy of the New Yorker, his sideburns, and his sublimely absurd post about how bike lanes make it harder for him to drive his car to dinner:

("My wayward eyebrow means I'm thinking.")

What followed was a pile-on of "epic" proportions, with the New York Times, the Economist, the Washington Post, Finally Legal, and others all weighing in on what an idiot he is. In the midst of sort of a "bicycle backlash" as we are, it was inspiring to see how many articulate people actually came to cycling's defense. I guess it just took someone like Cassidy to strike that perfect note of stupidity--a laterally stiff yet vertically moronic alloy of pretention and cluelessness.

And naturally, Cassidy came to his own defense:

As I was saying about the bike lobby…

How is a bunch of people agreeing your post was ridiculous a "lobby?" Everybody thinks Charlie Sheen is crazy too, but that doesn't mean there's a sanity lobby. His closing was also delightfully catty:

Finally, thanks to the commenters in general for providing me with a handy guide to the cultural politics of the twenty-first century. I’ll keep a copy of it in my walnut glove compartment:

Bicyclist = Urbane, enlightened, sophisticate.

Car Driver = Suburban, reactionary, moron.

If "Walnut Glove Compartment = Your Ass," then I think we're all in agreement.

By the way, for one brief and exciting moment yesterday I thought I'd spotted Cassidy's '89 Thunderbird, but it turned out to be the Mercury Cougar variant:

Nevertheless, it looked like Cassidy probably feels after fielding all those comments. Also, in the adjacent bike lane, I spotted this packet of latex finger cots and/or petite prophylactics:

I'm not sure if somebody had been "getting down" in the back seat of that Cougar, or if the city is trying to encourage its cyclists to go "fingerbang" themselves safely.

Speaking of safety, you'll find nothing even remotely safe in this, perhaps the greatest messenger video of all time, which was forwarded to me by a reader:

Frankly, I couldn't tell if I was watching actual people, or if this was a new parody show like "Portlandia," but either way it was tremendously entertaining in the way only true stupidity can be. The cast of characters included the guy who throws strawberry thick shakes at minivans:

The guy who sucks at bike riding:

"I smashed right into the side of the cab, broke my jaw in two places. I don't have health insurance. It's a factor but I kind of disregard it, I don't really give a shit," he says.

Hey, he's just like the US government!

And the woman who somehow works more hours a week than there are hours a week:

"I work two full time jobs, seven days a week, about 50 hours at each."

Apparently, her goal is to become debt free by the time she's 30, hence the 100 hour work week. I don't know how much time she actually has, but if her goal is to make money quickly then she couldn't have made a worse choice than spending 50 of those hours working as a bike messenger. Sure, it's fun and "carbon neutral," but it's also "income neutral" in that the small amount of money involved generally winds up going to pay for things like designer bandoliers, Brooks saddles, and reconstructive jaw surgery. Really, she'd probably be better off working one normal full-time job and then riding her bike for fun in her spare time like the rest of us.

Then again, I'm not an economist like "Sideburns" Casidy, so I really don't know what I'm talking about.

Nevertheless, as with that Vancouver video, I continue to be fascinated with the manner in which messengers love to boast on video about doing their jobs poorly--crashing into things, losing packages, losing their tropical birds to kidnappers... If they were waiters they'd be running around the restaurant, falling over tables and dropping trays of food on the diners.

As Bob Dylan once sang, sometimes you're "Only a Pawn in Their Game." Whereas once this was an unenviable position, now it's positively distinguished when compared with the modern-day equivalent, which is Being a Character in their Reality Show.

Take my dignity. Please.

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