Round and Round: In Search of Direction

First of all, I'm pleased to announce that my ruthless publisher Chronicle, an evil conglomerate of San Francisco hippies, have finally received newly-printed copies of my book "Bike Snob," which, unlike "Positively False" author Floyd Landis, I wrote all by myself without a ghost writer or anything. This means that gooey batches of oven-fresh literary goodness are on their way to the various purveyors of books both online and off, and that you can finally read a book in which "sarcasm takes precedence over actual thinking." (This according to some "bicycling almanac" called "Boneshaker," which is so pretentious that they actually think calling my book "sarcastic" is an insult. I'm looking forward to their upcoming carbon time trial bike round-up called "Missing the Point," in which they denounce them all because "speed takes precedence over grocery hauling.")

Of course, if you want a book you can also get one at my BRA tomorrow night at 6:30, which as I mentioned on Friday will place at the Rapha Cycle Club. Rest assured that I will insult Rapha even as they play host to me, and that I will also give away t-shirts and other items. I will also present some sort of slideshow loosely organized around the theme of the "epic." In fact, I briefly considered turning the event into an "epic burrito story" open mic night ("epic burrito stories" are the "beat poetry" of the 21st century), and if you have such a story I encourage you to take the stage and tell it. You can also test ride my Surly Big Dummy if you leave a substantial cash deposit.

In any case, I hope to see you there tomorrow night, and if you need cycling directions you can always consult a popular search engine. If you're wondering how accurate these directions are, the New York Times has endeavored to find out:

I only read this article because I'm quoted in it (I get my news from Hot Chicks With Douchebags), but I was alarmed to find that the writer was not only encouraged to "salmon" by the popular search engine's mapping function, but that "it steered [him] away from the rough parts of Bedford Stuyvesant."

The fact that the popular search engine would avoid an area it deems "rough" is doubly alarming to me, and seems to be even more evidence of a far-reaching cycling-based "douche-spiracy." Consider also that when the New York Post tested the mapping function it sent their hapless reporter directly into the maw of bloodthirsty, bicycle-hating Hasidic Jews. Clearly this sort of neighborhood "curating" on the popular search engine's part is proof that we have entered a new and disturbing age of online cultural gerrymandering designed specifically to manipulate and control "hipsters." I've long suspected this, and to test it I asked the popular search engine to give my cycling directions between two non-hipster locations: Harlem and Bedford Stuyvesant. Sure enough, it simply advised me to ride around and around McCarren Park in Williamsburg instead:

While this may seem obvious, it's positively subtle compared to the results I got two weeks ago:

In any case, it's clear that the popular search engine intends to corral bicycle-mad "hipsters" who don't know their way around their adopted cities into "gentrified" ghettos by providing inaccurate directions, thus limiting their exposure to the outside world. Those who exhibit "tech skillz" will be forced to toil in the popular search engine's delightfully M&M-colored labor "campus," and the rest will be ground into tasty and delicious "Soylent Douche."

Speaking of "salmoning," video of what can only be the World's Dumbest Bike Messenger recently surfaced. In it, the messenger is filming himself while riding the wrong way on a busy street, at which point he hits and knocks down a man in a suit. Astonishingly, the man in the suit expresses concern for the messenger, who responds in mind-bendingly douche-tastic fashion by berating him for not using a crosswalk. Subsequent to being uploaded, the video went more viral than a sex worker's "naughty components," at which point the messenger deleted it in what I can only imagine is shame, but you can still see the victim here:

(Video now deleted. New link here via a helpful commenter!)

And here is the messenger and his friend, as shown in one of his other videos, which indicates he is also an aspiring ("aspiring" in this case means "in the process of failing") musician:

As the bicycle courier industry breathes its last breaths, it seems that "street smarts" are finally giving way to online mapping, and the few remaining messengers are delusional stars in feature films of the ego that they don't realize are slapstick comedies until they actually upload them and the public at large informs them they're idiots.

Speaking of which, I suspect the upcoming film "Premium Rush" is shaping up to be unintentional slapstick comedy as well. Yesterday, I posted this picture of a Parlee road bike on the set and speculated as to its purpose:

Well, another reader informs me that it actually belongs to an "evil messenger" character and even managed to photograph the "evil messenger" having trouble with his diabolically recalcitrant clipless pedals:

If the crabon Parlee wasn't enough of a clue that this messenger is evil, then his left bicep should be a dead giveaway:

I'm not sure what's actually in the bicep holder, but I suppose it's the iPhone he uses to find his way around the city.

Meanwhile, in "real life," another reader informs me that an enterprising group of people who probably didn't land jobs at a popular search engine are planning to create an independent New York City bike-sharing program:
Apparently, you'll be able to find a bike with your popular brand of smartphone. The bikes will be locked at bike racks all over the city, which means they should all be stolen in a matter of days. Here's a charmingly naive video that explains the whole thing:

The Social Bicycle System from Ryan Rzepecki on Vimeo.

Notice, by the way, that he can deliver his entire speech while standing in the bike lane without encountering a single cyclist:

I guess they're all too busy riding circles around McCarren Park.

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Meet My New Cycling Coach - Francesco!

I had mentioned in passing that I brought a vintage frame with me from my last stay in Austria to build up as a fixed gear road bike... Well, here is the result:

The frame is from a Francesco Moser "San Cristobal" roadbike, circa (I think) 1978. I got the frame from a friend of a friend and had a chance to try it when it was still a complete bike, so I knew it would fit me comfortably. The previous owner then stripped the frame of components and I mailed it to myself from Vienna, as this was by far the easiest option. It cost 20 Euros to send the frame from Vienna to Boston via the Austrian post. They instructed me to "wrap it so that it looks like a bike frame" rather than packing it in a bike box, and that is what I did. I wrapped the frame in bubble wrap, then in brown wrapping paper, and attached the address in several locations directly onto the wrapping. The package arrived at my door just over 2 weeks after I mailed it.

As you may have noticed, the Co-Habitant has turned into a bicycle mechanic this summer - to my appreciative delight, as I have neither the aptitude nor the time for it. He bought a bike stand, has accumulated the necessary tools for most jobs, and has been enjoying learning the ins and outs of bicycle repair. This was his first complete bike build, after he practiced with the fixed gear conversion on Marianne. As a mechanic he is meticulous, and this is reflected in the quality of the results. The bicycle is tight and smooth and noiseless and just the way I wanted it.

If you are interested in components, they include a Sugino RD2 crankset, a Mavic CXP2 wheelset, and white Panaracer Pasela tires (700x28C). The seat post (manufacturer unknown), stem (Nitto), handlebars (GB) and brake (Shimano, model unknown) were recycled from various used/vintage sources. The brake levers are the same Tektro short reach I have on my Rivendell, and these are pretty much the only roadbike brake levers that I am actually able to squeeze with my poor hands. I have both brake levers despite there only being a front brake, because I like to keep my hands on the hoods. The right lever activates the brake; the left lever is inactive. Though I find it silly to have a "blank" brake lever, I cannot think of a better solution.

As for the lack of rear brake, the reason is two-fold. First, a rear brake in unnecessary on a fixed gear bike. And second, our tire choice made the rear clearance too tight to allow one. It looks in the picture as if the bridge is actually touching the tire, but I assure you it is not. There is enough clearance so that it is perfectly fine to ride, just won't fit a brake.

This bicycle originally came with tubular wheels and narrow tires, so fitting it with 700C wheels and the cushy white 28mm Paselas was really pushing the limits of its clearances. But we decided to go with them, because these tires are just a spectacular ride, as well as a safer choice for my pothole-ridden "training route".  The larger wheels and tires also have the positive effect of raising the bottom bracket - which is a good thing for a fixed gear bike, as pedaling while leaning on a turn can potentially result in hitting the ground with the edge of a pedal. Needless to say, there will not be room for fenders on this bike. That is fine with me in this case, as the bicycle's purpose is entirely athletic. (Also, I think the "naked" white tires look quite good with the red frame.)

I should also mention, that while we built this bike up as a fixed gear, we did not file off any of the braze-ons or bosses. The rear derailleur hanger and the rear brake routing have been left as they were, and the downtube shifter bosses have been covered with these rubber "boss cozies" for safety and aesthetics.

Francesco Moser frames are quite nice, and are well-regarded in Austria. I am told that this model is made of Columbus tubing, though there is no longer a decal testifying to this.

The frame is in great condition, except for some rust on these chrome parts. I plan to clean that up as soon as I determine what the safest method is.

Now that I have given all the excruciating details regarding the bike, some are probably wondering why in God's name I needed a fixed gear roadbike. Well, I'll tell you. I had been planning this ever since having ridden that trackbike in Vienna and discovering that riding a fixed gear bike helps me build up my road cycling skills. It does that by addressing my biggest frustrations, which are balance and coordination. I have plenty of endurance to cycle fast for relatively long periods of time, but I suck at pretty much every other aspect of cycling (for instance, making turns and cycling closely to others at high speeds). The aspect of fixed gear cycling that most people find difficult (the constant pedaling) I am fine with, which makes it the perfect tool to help me with the other stuff.

I have gone on two long rides on Francesco so far: a 26 mile ride with only very mild hills, and another 26 mile ride with steeper hills. Though the hilly ride was challenging, I have not experienced any pain or discomfort, despite this bicycle's aggressive geometry.  Francesco seems like he will be a great cycling coach, and I look forward to getting to know him better.

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The Seat Cluster: a Starburst of Lugwork

One of my favourite parts of a bicycle frame's anatomy is what's called the "seat cluster" - the joint where the seat tube, the top tube, and the rear stays of the bicycle meet. If done nicely, the seat cluster can look like a beautiful starburst of lugwork, and that is what I love about it.  On the picture above is the very classic seat cluster on the Waja trackbike I rode in Vienna earlier this summer. 

A similarly classic seat cluster on the Rivendell Sam Hillborne. 

[image via Franklyn W]

And another example from an Ebisu bicycle.  You can see how the individuality of the cut of the lugwork interacts with the colour of the paint to create subtle variations in form and shade. The stay caps (those narrow diagonal pieces that taper to meet the main lug) can be rounded or pointy, flat or concave, stubby or elongated.

[image via cycleczar]

They can even wrap all the way around the main seat lug, like on this Toei bicycle,  so that the pointy tips meet. This is called a "wrap around seat cluster" design.

The stay caps also make for a good surface to embellish with an engraving of the manufacturer's name, like on this vintage Trek 610.

[image via Dancing Weapon]

Or with hand-painted flourishes, like on this Bob Jackson.

[image via Royal H.]

They can also be carved, if so desired, like on this early Royal H. frame.

[image via ribalrid]

While I prefer classic seat clusters, there are also many designs that deviate into all sorts of creative directions.  On this Bates B.A.R. bicycle, the seat stay caps look like sharpened pencils and meet the main lug at the bottom.

[image via somervillain]

On this vintage Trek 560, the seat cluster is one big lug, and the seat stays are held by lugged sockets at the back.

[image via Kevin Saunders]

And then there are seat clusters where the stays connect to the tube directly, below the lug, like on this Formigli frame. (My understanding is that both this and the method used by Trek above is done to create tighter clearances?)

[image via Royal H.]

A similar approach to "fastback stays" by Royal H., with the seat stays attached at the rear.

When it comes to lugwork, there is no shortage of details to get obsessed about, and the topic can provide hours of impassioned discussion to those who feel strongly about one design over another. Crazy? Maybe so, but also beautiful... like the seat cluster on my Royal H. frame that will (hopefully very soon now) emerge as a fully built bicycle.

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Sweetest Ta-glue: Putting the "Sade" in "Crusade"

As I mentioned yesterday, a cyclist in "full racing gear" recently hit a 73 year-old woman in Central Park and then rode away. To date, this cyclist has not been apprehended. However, thanks to the popular Twitter social networking site, it seems as though the perpetrator may have inadvertently surrendered himself:

He doesn't mention that he also knocked out at least one grandmother (that we know about), but he was probably constrained by Twitter's draconian 140 character limit.

Alas, there was a time when professional cyclists had that quality called "class." In the days of toeclips, downtube shifters, and amphetamines, a rider like Eddy Merckx or Freddy Maertens would always stop and tend to his victim before returning to training. There is an oft-told story familiar to any cycling fan in which Joop Zoetemelk hit an elderly woman and administered seventeen stitches to her using a tubular tire repair kit and the brandy in his bidon for disinfectant and anesthesia. Sadly, the woman died from an infection two weeks later, but even on her death bed she praised Zoetemelk for his gentlemanliness and chivalry. (You can expect Rapha to commemorate this great moment in cycling history soon by offering a $250 Joop Zoetemelk open wound sewing kit, which is the perfect complement to their luxurious and idiotic bespoke suit and absolutely essential for that "epic" ride in which either flesh wounds or wardrobe malfunctions feature prominently.)

It would seem though that those days are gone forever. Now, Alberto Contador attacks Andy Schleck, and George Hincapie totally "coldcocks" some old broad and then just rides away. There was a time you would be honored simply to be a "wheelsucker" behind a pro, but the truth is that the "crabon hoops" of today are simply not worthy of sucking as were the 36-spoke box-section rims of yesteryear. This is why, when I'm seeking that slight aero advantage on my commute, I no longer surreptitiously choose the wheel of the pro or the pro-aspirant (also known as the "Fred"). Instead, I choose wholesome riders such as the Chionesu Bakari youth group:

They may not be fast, but they have integrity.

Speaking of riding competitively when it is not warranted, esteemed commenter "Daddo One" informs me that Senator Scott Brown totally "threw down" at the Pan-Massachusetts Challenge charity ride, and that this Trek TTX was his Fredly weapon of choice:

I was particularly impressed by his choice of foot retention:

The large platform allows for maximum power transfer to the beefy bottom bracket junction, propelling the bike forward with maximum efficiency and leaving other charity riders gasping in your slipstream. Here's a closer look:


Celebrity coaching brand Chris Carmichael says it's a highly effective system, especially when used in conjunction with a power meter of some kind:

Word among the charity ride GC contenders is that Brown had it pinned at "Daring" the whole time:

(By the way, Daddo One is still raising funds for the ride, so if you're feeling either flush or charitable or appreciative of photos of senatorial tri bikes probably purchased with campaign donations, please donate on his behalf here.)

Meanwhile, the finger-mounted power meters of many Williamsburg, Brooklyn residents have gone from "Relaxed" to "Tense," for it seems that an "anti-bike vigilante" who calls himself "The Bike Crusader" is running around and putting a once-popular brand of novelty adhesive in their locks:

"These Yuppies are ruining the whole damn city," says The Bike Crusader, invoking a term that fell out of common parlance back in the 1980s when Jay McInerny and Oliver Stone were still relevant. In fact, between his vocabulary and his choice of adhesive (Krazy Glue was the go-to glue back in the Reagan era) it would seem that The Bike Crusader superglued his mind closed sometime back in 1986 and resolved never to let anything new enter it ever again. (This could be why he missed the boat that took all of his neighbors to Staten Island, a magical land where it is forever the 1980s, over 25 years ago.) So while I'm sure some "hipsters" are very upset that they can't access their IROs, my guess is that The Bike Crusader will soon tire of bicycles and move on to his next target, which will be some other symbol of 1980s "yuppification" such as sushi restaurants, avocados, or the music of Sade. Perhaps he will even reinvent himself as the California Roll Crusader. In the meantime, look for somebody in late-middle age driving a Cutlass with a Greek coffee cup accidentally glued to his fingers and an irrational hatred of cordless phones.

Speaking of artifacts from the 1980s, stylized versions of something once called "bike messengers" still ply the streets of New York City in designer clothing and expensive nylon accessories, which must be why so-called "Hollywood" is making that "Double Rush" movie. Indeed, news continues to pour in from the increasingly beleaguered set, for a reader recently passed by a shoot and photographed this crabon fribé Parlee wonderbike:

I can only assume it will be used in the final chase scene, when the messenger breaks his chain on the hill in Central Park and commandeers some "yuppie" traditional Fred's "whip." However, chances are it won't be nearly as exciting and inspirational as Robin Moore's (otherwise known as "MC Spand-X") new film:



It's going to be like "Rad," only with irony.

Meawhile, the fixed-gear trend has elephant trunk-skidded its way to New Zealand, though it seems to have left its trademark irony behind. In fact, the media covering the trend seem to be more ironic than the participants, for a reader recently sent me this video in which an interviewer clad only in bib shorts speaks to a fixed-gear scenester:

Then, they all gather in the studio where they discuss the usual fixie clichés, like the one about how not having brakes makes you a safer rider, and at no point did the riders evidence any indication that they had any awareness of how silly any of this was:

I did learn something new, though, which is that they don't call it "fixed-gear" in New Zealand. Instead, they have a completely different term for it, which is "foxed ghee." I'm not sure where the term "foxed ghee" comes from , but as far as I can tell it's some sort of obscure culinary reference.

Lastly, from Brian in Minneapolis (the number one bike city in the United States, but only because they didn't wait for Portland when it dropped its chain) comes this inspiring cockpit:

This cockpit contains three of my favorite elements: bar ends; creatively-mounted mountain bike levers; and of course marble bar tape:

Using marble grip tape on your bike is the equivalent of sponge painting your walls--both of which are sure to infuriate The Bike Crusader.

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Lovely Bicycle Upheaval... and Bike Sale

Over the past several months, some changes in my cycling ways have been quietly taking place. I have hinted at it, but I don't think I have fully disclosed just how serious I've been getting about road cycling. Little by little, regular 20 mile rides turned into regular 30 mile rides and now, time permitting, regular 40 mile rides. I have found that I truly enjoy cycling on a roadbike and I want to see how far I can go with this unexpected passion. I don't feel the need to write about most of my sporty rides just as I don't feel the need to write about every time I commute - but it's happening, and the proportion of miles I spend cycling for transportation versus sport is probably about 1 to 5 at the moment. As a reflection of this, I have made some updates to my bicycle holdings - which I will describe in abundant detail in posts to come. And the flip side to those updates, is... well, the necessity of the Lovely Bicycle Bike Sale, as the title of this post suggests. The "sale" is actually just two bikes. But they are very nice ones and they have been good friends to me. If you are interested, please drop me a line at filigreevelo-at-yahoo. Deep breath, and here we go:

{SOLD} details of the sale have been removed 

{SOLD} details of the sale have been removed 

.....
view posts about the Pashley Princess
view posts abut the Mercier mixte

Thank you for looking!

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Hardcore Luxury: It Ain't Easy Being Douchey

This past weekend I engaged in some routine bicycle component installation. Despite being almost moronically simple, the component I installed came with a manual, and while I've changed the name of both the component and the manufacturer, here's what it said:

Congratulations! You have just purchased the best bicycle component available. To ensure the best performance and longest service life from your bicycle component, please read carefully and follow these installation instructions.

CAUTION!

All Awesome Manufacturer bicycle components should be installed by a qualified bicycle mechanic. The Awesome Manufacturer assumes no liability for products which are improperly installed.

WARNING!

Failure to follow these instructions can result in bicycle component failure. Bicycle component failure can lead to loss of control of the bicycle and result in serious personal injury or death.

[...]

Inspect for dents, bends, deep scratches or gouges before each ride. Replace any deeply scratched or gouged bicycle components immediately. Destroy any bicycle component you replace for safety reasons.

And so forth.

Reading this, I realized that for years I have been alarmingly casual in my approach to bicycle maintenance, and that in flouting recommended installation procedures I have been flirting with serious personal injury or death. Perhaps most egregiously, I have been baiting fate and misfortune by not immediately destroying any bicycle components I replace. Previously, I had thought that the proper method for disposing of used bicycle parts was to put them on Craigslist or eBay, but it turns out I should actually treat them like unexploded IEDs and obliterate them "Hurt Locker"-style. So, subsequent to this revelation, I loaded the Big Dummy full of skipping cassettes, marginal brake pads, used cable housing, and other detritus of the bike dork, headed into the desert, and did as the manual specified:

While people in the area (at least those who survived) may suffer after-effects from the nuclear fallout for generations, at least nobody will inadvertently find and install my slightly scratched seatpost--which could fail catastrophically, leading to serious personal injury, death, or, worst of all, unwanted and humiliating posterior penetration and violation.

In any case, now rid of my dangerous componentry but emitting an eerie yet soothingly etherial glow, I returned to Brooklyn and resolved to begin life anew. (Having been irradiated, I am now even more toxic to others than usual, and so my doctor recommends I avoid human contact for the next 75-100 years.) Until effete clothiers Outlier and Rapha finish their collaboration on my bespoke lead cycling bodysuit and I can once again enjoy the companionship of others and pet puppies and kittens without melting them, I must dwell in solitude. This, of course, will require suitable quarters, so inquired about taking up residence in one of those condos I mentioned on Thursday:

("The poor people look so harmless from up here.")

Alas, not only do I lack the means ("means" is pretentious for money) to gain access to this rarefied lifestyle, but I also totally flunked the cognac appreciation test. Also, even if I could live there, the building does not have an on-site apiary, and since beekeeping is like totally the new fixed-gear I balked at the notion of living someplace so hopelessly unhip. Fortunately, the same local news station on which I saw the commercial for the above apartments is now airing a commercial for "The Edge" in Williamsburg, where apparently you can live in "hardcore luxury:"

"Hardcore luxury? What exciting new form of douchery is this?" I asked myself eagerly as I sweetened my morning cup of artisanal tea with honey from the apiary I keep in my linen closet. Donning the oven mitts I must now wear so that I will not melt my keyboard, I visited the website for the "Edge," where I learned that "hardcore luxury" involves keeping your art books in a series of austere and asymmetrical cubbies:

It's both thrilling and inspiring to see how nuanced "douchery" has become. If all you share in common with the cognac-sniffing, vest-wearing, terrier-owning set is a surfeit of disposable income and an urgency to divest yourself of it, and if you spent your last $7,000 on a set of designer sleeve tattoos instead of paying the lease inception costs on a Range Rover, then the Edge is the perfect place to hang both your rabbit hair fedora and your designer ax(e) (and of course your urban rucksack in which to carry it all).

But before you can move into a place like the Edge and experience the sublime paradox of "hardcore luxury," you must undergo a "douche-morphosis" and attain the state known as "douche-gnosis." In the meantime, you must live among the "hipster hylicoi," thos unfortunates who patronize the faux-dive bars, share overpriced rental apartments, and ply the streets aboard their "fixies," hoping for enlightenment. Of these, some will choose the path of the film production assistant, or "PA," in their pursuit of glory.

PAs are like bike messengers, only with a career path, and they tend to have Leatherman multi-tools on their waists in addition to the standard-issue key carabiner. They can be found on pretty much every corner in New York City telling you to wait while some film crew finishes filming some crappy scene for some crappy movie or TV show. One such movie currently in production is the messenger-themed feature "Premium Rush"--and, as it happens, a PA was recently Mark Renshawed while doing his job on the set:

I understand the indignities of this vocation, and I do empathize with the victim. However, I also know how bothersome it is to be constantly routed by PAs, since that's what life in New York City has become. If you've never experienced this, just think of how annoying it is when you're watching TV with someone and they insist on watching some really bad show or movie. Now imagine getting trapped in that same show or movie in real life on your way to the store. Not only is it inconvenient, but it's also deeply offensive, because you realize on some level you're actually helping people make a really bad show or movie that you could very well be forced to sit through again later. Really, the job of the PA is to say, "Please don't disturb us while we produce garbage for you." It's like being made to wait while someone relieves himself on your floor.

Her is an actual "Premium Rush" PA in action:

Notice how a single hipster faux-billy halts pedestrians going about their business like Midtown Manhattan is his slovenly living room and they're about to step on the friend who's "crashing" on his floor:

Indeed, so acrimonious have PA/civilian relations become that the head-butter is now being hailed as a hero:

"'He should get a community-service award,' declared Bonita Bradley, 33, a musician."

Apparently, Ms. Bradley completely missed the irony that musicians are vastly more annoying than PAs, as anybody who's been trapped in a subway train with a practicing vocalist wearing headphones or with some guy wielding an imitation Stratocaster and a Pignose amp can certainly tell you.

Of course, one person emphatically not being hailed as a hero is the cyclist who hit an older woman in Central Park and then fled the scene:

This has naturally kindled a predictable flame war, and while people will once again indict all cyclists, this is clearly the work of once of the saddest cyclists in all of cycledom: the New York City "traditional Fred." The giveaway is that he was wearing "full racing gear" in Central Park at 10:30am on Saturday, despite the fact that there was an actual race nearby that very morning, and that the open roads of the "country" beckoned just a few miles north over the George Washington Bridge:

Despite the abundance of convenient places to ride road bicycles very fast, for some reason the New York City "traditional Fred" (as well as the New York City triathlete) prefers to ride his or her crabon wonderbike in in the middle of the day on a weekend in one of the biggest and most crowded tourist attractions in the United States. (Yes, in the non-"hipster" cycling world, 10:30am is the middle of the day.) Admittedly, this is sometimes necessary, since he first needs to pick up his bicycle from the shop, where he dropped it off to have the chain lubed. This leaves little time left to ride. Also, while their park antics are annoying and sometimes dangerous, it's really more sad than anything--it's like going to a buffet and only eating the condiments, or like masturbating outside of a whorehouse.

As for those cyclists who sleep well past 10:30 and don't actually start riding until sundown, they'll be pleased to know that the "superfluous tool" trend and the "bike-mounted bottle opener" trend have met head-on in the form of the "Road Popper," which I saw on fixed-gear freestyle impresario and streetwear enthusiast Prolly's blog:

For some reason, this item costs $40:

Now that's "hardcore luxury."

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