Car Talk... Recollections of a Wilted Romance

Here is a confession: I feel guilty about my car - or rather, what used to be my car.

My poor car, once so beloved! I received it as a gift from my family six years ago, after I earned my doctorate and was about to start a new job in a mountainous region of Northern New England. It was the most lavish gift I have received in my life by far, either before or since, and I was filled with gratitude and disbelief. The car was beautiful and impeccably tasteful and rugged, and my excitement knew no bounds. The exterior was a lovely shade of dark gray and the interior was beige suede (I still remember the texture and smell of the seats when the car was new). The 4WD, the optional manual mode, and the myriad of safety features would keep me protected on the treacherous terrain of the place I was to live (and commute for over 20 miles to work). I named the car, and loved it as if it were a puppy. And I delighted in my long commutes - through the valleys past idyllic farm scenes and along dangerous mountain cliffs through the clouds of thick fog that would rise in the mornings. 

Everybody was relieved at my reaction to the car, because I had never been an enthusiastic driver in my previous attempts at car ownership. By my early twenties I had dispensed with cars altogether, living in urban areas where they weren't necessary. Interestingly, this was viewed by many as a lack of self-sufficiency on my part: By living in cities, not practicing driving, and allowing my already questionable motoring skills to deteriorate, I was making myself dependent on urban comforts and public transportation. This new job in a rural area demanded a re-adjustment.

My romance with the new car lasted into winter... until I got into a horrifying accident involving darkness, black ice, fresh snow, a cliff and a railing - into which I crashed head-on after losing control on a turn. Miraculously, I emerged unscathed. And though the front end of the car was totaled, my insurance company came through wonderfully and soon the car was good as new. According to the policemen on the scene, that stretch of the road was so bad that night, that "there was nothing anyone could have done different, except not be out on the road". Not an option of course, when commuting home from a long workday.

I cannot say that I began to dislike or fear cars after this event; it was nothing so dramatic or definite. And I continued to drive throughout that winter and the next, in the same dangerous snow and ice, with no further mishaps. But I no longer thought of my car anthropomorphically, no longer considered it cute. It had become just a thing - a necessary thing, but a dangerous one, too, as well as a stuffy and oppressive one at times. Somehow I no longer saw the charm in the beige suede interior or the beauty of the tasteful gray exterior. It was just a car - something that made sense to use only when the necessity outweighed the danger and the feeling of stuffiness, but not otherwise. It was an excellent car, to be sure - useful especially in rural areas, and great for hauling things in its roomy interior. But just a car.

Several years after I got married, we moved to Boston. Within a week, we decided that the Co-Habitant would sell his car and mine would be shared. This was in no way driven by "ideology" on our part; it was simply absurdly inconvenient to have two cars in Boston, and since his was larger than mine, it was the one to go.

When the decision was made to share my car, I hardly suspected that I would never drive it again, but that is exactly what happened. I have not been behind the wheel of it or any other motor vehicle since sometime in 2007, over three years ago now. I have no idea why, and it was never my intention to categorically stop driving. But soon I found that I would rather walk to my destination for an hour than drive there (which was exactly what I did before I started cycling). What used to be my car now pretty much belongs to the Co-Habitant; I experience no feelings of possession when I look at it or sit in the passenger's seat while traveling together.

Will I drive again? Realistically speaking, I probably will, though I don't know when that might be. I am not "anti-car" and consider cars to be useful and necessary in many circumstances. But I cannot imagine wanting to drive just for the sake of it, or loving a car in the same way as I do my bicycles.

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Making an Ordinary Vintage Roadbike Extraordinary (a Review of Sorts)

The Co-Habitant's roadbike, Myles, is a 1976 Motobecane Super Mirage, which he acquired in Spring 2009 and has been gradually updating with modern components and personal touches. It is his only roadbike, and he has cycled somewhere between 2,000 and 2,500 miles on it through its various iterations. I wanted to write a review of it (from my perspective), because I think it poignantly illustrates some aspects of owning and customising a vintage roadbike.

It is always interesting to observe people's reaction to Myles, for he is a real head turner - even more so than my Rivendell. The silver frame, the hammered fenders, the wealth of brown tones in the leather and twine, the frame pump looking almost like a double top tube, and the classic Carradice bag, somehow combine to create a whole that is more magnificent and eye-catching than the sum of its parts.

On closer inspection, those who know bicycles typically exhibit one of two reactions. Some are delighted to see a good, ordinary vintage bicycle salvaged and turned into a thing of beauty. Others are bewildered that we bothered to so elaborately refurbish something so commonplace, rather than searching for a frame with a more impressive pedigree. While the Motobecane Super Mirage was a good, solid bicycle in its time, it was decidedly middle-tier and for that reason unremarkable. The frame is hi-ten steel, the lugs are fairly basic, and the original components (Suntour, Weinmann) are pretty good, but not excellent.

We do not disagree with the point of view that a better frame would have been more deserving of all the DIY lavished on Myles. But sometimes a bicycle just evolves organically, and such was the case here.

When the Co-Habitant found the bike, used and somewhat abused, the plan was simply to ride it after a few minor changes. He first replaced the tires, after the original ones blew up on his very first ride.  He has ridden these Continental Gatorskins (27" x 32mm) the entire time without incident.

He then replaced the original vinyl saddle with a Brooks Flyer. Early on, he was caught in the rain and the Flyer got wet - which hastened its breaking-in process nicely.

The brakes on the bicycle worked fine after some adjustment, but he did replace the pads with the salmon Kool-Stops.

As he began riding the bicycle more and more, he added fenders and a saddle bag. Although I am normally not a fan of hammered Honjos, I think they do look good on silver bikes - providing textural variation where the colour is similar.  Hammered fenders are also a good investment in terms of hiding dents or scratches.

The Carradice Barley bag has been sufficient for carrying anything he needed on this bike, up to our current trip. For the future, he will consider getting a larger bag that can fit laptops, and a rack to support it. Having a saddlebag is also handy for installing a battery-operated tail light, such as his CatEye.

His headlight is mounted on the fork, using a Minoura light mount. While he prefers generator lighting, as far as battery-operated lights go, he likes this system very much.

Some months later, he decided to replace the handlebar set-up, as the original one caused discomfort and difficulty operating the brake levers.  He replaced them with 42cm Nitto Noodle bars, which he loves, and the stem with a Nitto Technomic. 

The original non-aero brake levers were replaced with modern Shimano aero brake levers. Personally, I am not a fan of these brake levers, as the hoods have a rather harsh surface and there is a plastic insert that is very easy to damage. The Co-Habitant has dropped and crashed this bike several times, and you can see that the levers look battered.

Almost a year later, a few more changes were made. After complaining that his feet always slipped on the touring pedals at high speeds and that toe clips were a bother, he installed these SPD clipless pedals - much to my shock at the time.  He loves them and now says that he would not go back to non-clipless on a roadbike, vintage or not.

Around the same time, he also installed a CatEye computer to keep track of his speed and mileage,

a Topeak frame pump,

and two bottle cages, bolted onto the frame - into which he places his twined and shellacked Klean Kanteen bottles.

And the final update - completed just a couple of weeks ago in our yard  - was the replacement of the original stem shifters with these Shimano bar-ends. Since the bike is a 10-speed, it isn't possible to get indexed shifting, but these work just as well in friction mode. After having used a shifting method that sounded like a tractor for over a year, the Co-Habitant is absolutely delighted with these - they are fast and quiet, and he is convinced that they are superior even to my Silver shifters (although I disagree).

And so that is the story of Myles's slow but steady transformation from a plain '70s French 10-speed to a glorious and shamelessly eccentric dandy. Was it worth it? It certainly helped the Co-Habitant learn about classic roadbikes - both riding them and working on them. It is difficult to get a straight answer from him about how comfortable the bike is, especially as he is more tolerant of discomfort and pain than I am and to some degree even thinks these are "normal" to experience on a roadbike. But from what I can surmise, the bike is more or less comfortable in its current state, except that it places a bit too much weight on the hands and is over-responsive to the point of being "squirrely". Also, the frame size would ideally be larger, and he could do with better gearing.

All of these comments, however, are made only in response to my direct questioning; he never complains about the bike on his own accord. On the contrary, he is extremely fond of Myles, smiling and shaking his head quietly at any suggestion that such components ought to be placed on a new frame instead.

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BSNYC Friday Fun Quiz! (With Special Bonus Contest!)

(A glimpse inside the mind of a minimalist.)

In addition to being restorative, sleep can also be transformative, and like many people, I often awake in the morning full of inspiration, clever ideas, and urine. (Though unlike many people, I also often awake on the fire escape with pigeons eating muffin crumbs out of my navel.) Such was the case this morning, when I awoke with an idea that was so clever and so inspirational it was if the Almighty Lobster Himself (or Herself, I never really did get a handle on lobster-sexing) was speaking to me in a booming voice from His (or Her) Claws of Benevolence. And of course I could barely wait to share my divine crustacean-inspired idea with my readers, for it would surely change the world.

Unfortunately, in the process of shooing away the pigeons and voiding my bladder off the fire escape I completely forgot my idea. However, instead of coming to you empty-handed (and empty-bladdered) I instead decided to substitute it with a different and far lamer idea. This lame idea has to do with Zany Bicycle Cockpits (or" ZBC"s), like this one which I posted not too long ago:

In fact, as you may recall, I have mentioned the possibility of giving away a Cockpit of the Year award (or "Cockie"), and even went so far as to construct a prototype statuette:

Well, as you might have guessed, fabricating that "Cockie" was a lot of work, and I'm now so fond of it I've decided to keep it. However, as you may have noticed in the right-hand margin, I am fortunate enough to have a sponsor in the form of a smug coffee cooperative called Just Coffee. Moreover, they even offer a "BSNYC/RTMS Blend of Disapproval," which is not a joke and which actually exists. Here is a picture of it, with an Edgar Allen Poe bobblehead included for scale:

Well, Just Coffee have been kind enough to Sponsor the First Annual BSNYC/RTMS Cockpit of the Year Award, and here's how I've hastily decided it will work:

Submit your photo of a ZBC via email with the subject line "I WANNA COCKIE!" no later than Friday, October 15th, 2010. This can be a ZBC you've spotted in the wild, or it can be your own, but it should not be one you "curated" simply to win a "Cockie." (Of course, I have no way of verifying this, so I ask that you adhere to the honor system.) Then, once the submissions are in, I'll pick the winners, or pick some finalists and open it up to a vote, or consult a spiritual medium, or whatever I feel like doing at the time. If, after all this mishigas, your photo is one of the top three, here's what you get:

1st place*: Six (6) bags (or "fun sacks") of my BSNYC/RTMS self-promotional coffee beans**;

2nd place*: Four (4) "fun sacks" of my BSNYC/RTMS drinkable stimulant**;

3rd place*: Two (2) "fun sacks" of my BSNYC/RTMS 100% fair trade potable gimmickry**;

Everyone else: Nothing.

*(Prizes do not include Edgar Allen Poe bobblehead.)

**(Please drink responsibly. BSNYC/RTMS Industries shall not be responsible for seizures caused by excessive caffeine consumption.)

Also, I should add that if you've sent a cockpit shot that has previously been posted on this blog, and you want it to be considered for a "Cockie," you should re-submit that photo in accordance with the aforementioned contest rules.

Hopefully all that made sense--I made it up as I went along.

With that out of the way, I'm now pleased to present you with a quiz. As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer. If you're right then good for you, and if you're wrong you'll see flat-fixing.

Thanks very much for reading, ride safe, and watch out for cockpits. (Also, looking forward to seeing some of you at Landry's bike shop in Boston, MA next Friday, October 1st, where I will be having a BRA that will be positively stuffed with action.)

--BSNYC/RTMS

1) Which of the following is not cited as an inspiration for the scent of Rapha Performance Skincare?

--Cedar
--Lavender
--Pine
--Teen spirit

("Greetings from Smugtown, USA")

2) A bus driver in Portland, OR was recently fired for:

--Doing 75mph in a 30mph zone

--Failing to yield to a cargo bike

--Reading a Kindle while driving

--"Foffing off" at the wheel

3) This wheel setup is known as the:

--"Spokane tubeless"

--"Tacoma tubular"

--"Minneapolis mullet"

--"Rhode Island rim job"

("How many babies does that weigh?")

4) Babies continue to gain traction as a unit of weight measurement for bicycles.

--True

--False

5) Which is not an item on the hipster Christian checklist?

--Sponsor church outings to microbreweries

--Use Helvetica fonts as much as possible

--Curate a voluminous and Christlike beard

--Show clips from R-rated Cohen Brothers films (e.g., No Country for Old Men, Fargo) during services

6) Robots. Douchebags imitating Jerry Lee Lewis. Scarves made of flexible air ducts that imprison your hands. All of these things are examples of:

--"Galactic Minimalism"

--"Douche-tastic Onanism"

--"Futuristic Primitivism"

--"Conceptual Wankery"

("All You Haters See My Bulge")

7) The discount code for the De Marchi Contour Short, available from the "Secret Website," is "AYHSMB."

--True
--False

***Unsafe-For-(Legitimate)-Work Fixed-Gear Freestyle-Themed Bonus Question***

(There's gotta be an easier way to scratch your "pants yabbies.")

The opposite of the "elephant trunk skid" is the:

--"Ass-over-bar skid"

--"Reverse cowgirl"

--"Serge Huercio taint-fakie"
--"Rhode Island rim job"

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His and Hers Bicycles: Matching Looks vs Matching Performance

I love the idea of "His and Hers" bicycles: an elegant pair of lady's and gentleman's bikes from the same manufacturer. When we first decided to ride bicycles, the Co-Habitant and I envisioned ourselves exclusively on such matched pairs. We acquired a Pashley Princess and Roadster as our transport bikes. We acquired a Motobecane Super Mirage and Mirage Mixte as our roadbikes. And we acquired a Raleigh DL-1 Tourist and Lady Tourist as our vintage 3-speeds.

It was all so perfect!... except that it wasn't.  I could never keep up when we were both on the Pashleys, which was a constant source of discontent (I am now convinced that the female model is just inherently different from the male one). With the Motobecanes things were even worse, as my semi-upright mixte was no match for his racy Super Mirage roadbike. Despite being perfectly matched in looks, our beautiful velo couples were plagued by a disparity in performance. 

Having finally decided that the illusion of perfection was not the same as perfection itself, I shattered the symmetry - first by replacing my Pashley Princess with a vintage Gazelle, and then by selling my Motobecane mixte.  Interestingly, the Gazelle is a better match for the Pashley Roadster performance-wise, and we no longer experience the same problem with discrepancies in speed when cycling together on our commuter bikes.

As for roadbikes, it is difficult to keep up with somebody on drop bars, while yourself riding with upright bars - especially if you are a weaker cyclist to begin with. My Rivendell and Trek roadbikes may not look as sexy next to the Co-Habitant's Motobecane as my vintage mixte did, but they are a better match when it comes to actually cycling together.

This particular discrepancy in "his and hers" bikes is something I wonder about when I see a man and a woman cycling together, where he is on an aggressive roadbike and she is on an upright hybrid from the same manufacturer (usually Trek, Cannondale or Specialized). While I understand that the idea is for the woman (who is presumably less skilled) to ride an "easier bike," surely it must make the difference in their skill levels all the more acutely felt?

Of the three "His and Hers" pairs we started with, only our vintage Raleigh DL-1s remain. These are actually matched pretty nicely in terms of performance, so apparently "back in the day" Raleigh got it right whereas today's Pashley did not. Although we do not ride these as often as we ride our main transport bikes, it is nice to have at least one pair of bicycles that matches both in looks and performance. Who knows, maybe in the future there will be more - but the performance aspect is a must. After all, a couple's chemistry is about more than just looks.

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Laying it On Thick: Your Epidermis is Showing

As you've probably noticed in the cycling press, the fantabulous product showcase known as Interbike is now well underway. While this is certainly an important event for those people directly involved in the making and selling of bicycles, from the perspective of the everyday rider whose only job is to ride the things it's mostly just "same stuff, different decals." Sure, even the most ornery fusspot will come across something he likes when perusing the coverage, but for the most part the stuff that emerges seems to fall under one of three categories:

1) New wheel gimmickry;

2) The latest mass-produced iterations of the previous year's NAHBS trend;

3) Increasingly, dumb "collabo" fixies.

However, every so often a cycling product emerges during Interbike time that is so compelling, so revolutionary, so I-would-flush-my-kitten-down-the-toilet-to-have-that-right-now awesome-tastic that it's enough to drive you mad with frothy desire. Such is the case this year, for clothier to the "I have a flat tire on my Serotta--do I need a new wheel?" set Rapha have finally ladled out ("ladled out" is skincare jargon for "dropped") their long-awaited skincare range:

I mentioned that this was imminent awhile back, and a reader recently forwarded me the above article. Obviously, like most people, I thought this was some kind of elaborate April Fool's joke at first, but I checked my trusty Just Miniature Dachshunds 2010 wall calendar and noted that April 1st had passed some time ago (or, if you're an optimist and just assume you'll live to see another April Fool's Day, has yet to arrive). Then I thought that, since the Jewish New Year had just passed, maybe it was now Jewish April Fool's Day. (Jewish April Fool's Day comes just before Jewish Easter, which should not be confused with a Jew'easter, which is a kind of kosher storm.) But this wasn't the case either, which is unfortunate, since few things are funnier to me than the old "short-sheeted tallis" trick. Finally, I checked the Rapha site and determined that this is indeed real, and that they are apparently aiming to become the Keihl's of the cycling world:

Here's what they have to say for themselves:
Apparently, these fragrant goops are "designed to protect your skin against the elements," which is interesting because I thought that was the point of wearing clothes. Somehow, though, these unguents are "an essential addition to a rider's kit," which to me is a tacit admission that their clothing is somehow inadequate. This would make Rapha Performance Skincare the equivalent of that "bumper" that's supposed to help your iPhone 4 do what it's supposed to do--except Apple gives it away for free.

Now, I certainly realize that, in cycling and in life in general, judicious application of creams and ointments can be both necessary and helpful. For example, chamois cream (whether it's actually marketed as chamois cream or is simply any one of the drugstore staples that will do pretty much the same thing) can be instrumental when it comes to taintal preservation, especially on long rides. Also, if you are the type of person who shaves one or more body parts, some sort of razor lubricant or "shaving cream" can be very helpful in this regard. And obviously, unless you're some filthy hippie and/or a person from Portland, you wash yourself with soap from time to time.

But it seems to me that, in recent years, cyclists--especially of the road-going variety--have developed a preoccupation with lotions, cleansers, and embrocations that would make a cosmetologist blush (or at least apply blush), and the Rapha Performance Skincare line would appear to be cycling's preening, delightfully-scented "Sex In The City"-on-wheels watershed moment. I mean, I'm all for cleanliness and comfort, but do we really need the smell of our crotches to be "inspired by the scents of the plants and herbs growing on Mont Ventoux, including Atlas cedar, lavender, pine needles, rosemary, juniper berry and lemon"? And in terms of paceline roll-out chatter, I'm not sure which is worse: the endless nonsense about "watts;" or, "You smell quite lovely this morning--like lilac with just a hint of fromage du frumunda."

Yes, thanks to cyclists' obsession with expensive clothes, designer bags, and now, skin creams, the only difference between cyclists and the typical Bergdorf Goodman shopper is that most cyclists' bags don't contain Yorkies--or maybe they do, for a member of the Twitteroni recently notified me of this:

If you look closely, you'll notice the label says it is made in Portland, Oregon. Is this really necessary? Is there any other place from which a line of cycling-themed dog accessories could possibly have emanated? And of course you can turn your poor pet into a "hipster service dog" by using it to open your beer:

Given that every single non-competitive cycling component and accessory manufactured after 2007 integrates some sort of bottle-opening technology, it's clear that the "bike culture" lives in constant terror that it will somehow find itself unable to open a beer. This is why the typical bike dork strolling around Interbike probably has, without even realizing it, no less than seven bottle openers on his or her person--and that's not including the bike, which would put the total well into the double digits. I even hear the Rapha chamois cream was specially formulated to open a bottle of Duvel if you slather it on the cap.

Speaking of slathering, I wonder if some customers might find auxiliary uses for certain Rapha Performance Skincare products, possibly while perusing literary bike porn:

(Hand model clearly not using Rapha Performance Skincare)

While a gnarled old hand might not be arousing to most people, for the seasoned connoisseur of highbrow bike pornography, the mere thought of the exquisite lugs these crooked digits have caressed in their lifetime is more stirring than a thousand Victoria's Secret catalogues. Indeed, this scenario has become all too common:

Really, all that's left at this point is to conquer the fixed-gear market, which has already become enamored of the Rapha "epic" aesthetic. I'm looking forward to the black-and-white videos of "epic" bathing sessions in "vintage" clawfoot tubs, and to the "unmarshalled and unsanctioned" Gentleman's Baths which will undoubtedly follow those Gentleman's Races. Then, Rapha will finally ladle out it's special fixed-gear chamois cream:

Coasting is for "woosies," and so is removing your shorts.

Meanwhile, from Rapha to Ralph's, another member of the Twitterino alerted me to what may be the lamest incident of two-wheeled rebellion of the year, which occurred when a bunch of cyclists rode into a supermarket:

You may recall that video "To Live & Ride in L.A.," which claimed that "they ride the most dangerous streets in America:"

Well, I guess they now ride the most dangerous supermarket aisles in America too:

I can't wait for video of some tarckster elephant trunk-skidding his way through the produce section, while another narrowly avoids getting hit by a full shopping cart being pushed by a mother of three. Or maybe they'll just have a hardcore fixed-gear freestyle session in the frozen foods section so they can have an excuse to wear their overpriced "collabo" jackets and hoodies.

Maybe they can hold Interbike 2011 at the Piggly Wiggly.

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