It's Wednesday: Put That In Your Wind Tunnel and Blow

Sometime during the next few days or weeks or something (I can't be bothered to look up the exact date), the world's greatest bicycle race will begin.  I am referring of course to the Mr. Subb Criterium in Coxsackie, NY, and if you're not thrilled by the prospect of cold cut primes and free drink refills for life for the overall winner then you're obviously made of stone (or stale hero bread, which is the same thing).  Then, a few days after this, there's this stupid Tour de France thing.  Here's my preview, for which I've created a bold and exciting graphic:

(I ran out of space before the "w," so I knocked $15 off my invoice to myself.)

First of all, a little history: the Tour de France is a bike race.  It's very old, and before the bicycle was invented the riders used to compete on cows.  Also, there are four (3) leader's jerseys in the Tour de France, and the rest of the riders must go shirtless, which explains why these jerseys are so coveted.  The route this year is particularly challenging, and here's the parcourse, brought to you by MapQuest Maps--the loser map company:

(MapQuest: for when a mere approximation will do.)

As for the race favorites, they are:

Dmitry Fofonov [Astana]

At age 35, Fofonov is a seasoned veteran who is ideally poised to build upon his 20th place in the 2006 Paris-Nice and finally seize the Grand Tour victory that has always managed to elude him.

Evelyn Stevens [Team Specialized-lululemon]

Evelyn Stevens started racing only four years ago in Central Park, and since then has risen meteorically to the top of the sport, winning this year's La Flèche Wallonne Féminine.  This really has nothing to do with the Tour de France, but if you write about cycling you're supposed to remind people of her story constantly and hold her up as a shining beacon of hope.  I would add to this though that if you're an amateur bike racer you should not be inspired by Evelyn Stevens, because while she may have discovered her huge talent relatively late in life, I promise you do not have that same talent.  Instead, Evelyn Stevens should serve as a powerful reminder that you suck and should quit.

Dmitry Fofonov [Astana]

Have I mentioned Dmitry Fofonov yet?  Because I really think this is going to be his year.

(Also, his last name sounds like wanking.)

Anyway, this whole Tour de France thing ultimately seems wasted on an American audience, since after getting a guy who won it seven times in a row all they seem interested in now is watching him get in trouble for it.  It was always my understanding that in sports you were supposed to be happy when your home team won, but I guess cycling is less like a sport and more like "indie rock," and that you're supposed to turn against your heroes as soon as they become too successful for you to feel special about liking them.

But let's not lose sight of what's really important about the Tour de France, which is of course the equipment the riders will be using.  This is because Freds think that equipment choice is all that stands between them and becoming Evelyn Stevens (well, that having a penis) and so they'll gladly pay stratospheric prices for the mere suggestion of performance gains.  That's why I'm sure Mavic's new Aero CXR-whatevers, which have been getting lots of attention from the cycling media, will be a hot seller in the mid-category ranks.  Here's Mavic's promotional video.

Mavic's stroke of marketing genius here seems to be some sort of stick-on fairing, and tri-geeks in particular will no doubt get all hot in the mankini over these wheels--and all that French wind tunnel porn certainly isn't going to hurt either:

By the way, I'm pretty sure that's the time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork Bret doing the modeling, and the gesticulating French guy is assuring him that, for accuracy's sake, he really should take off his pants.

By the way, triathletes are not as "structured" as cyclists:

That's another way of saying they don't know how to ride their bikes.

Anyway, if this promotional video wasn't enough, I was completely sold by the "Bicycling" review:

Especially by this part:

About halfway through our ride, the skies opened and the rains came down. Braking in the wet was as, you might expect from carbon wheels, not great. But, we're confident that Mavic, which has a reputation for creative solutions, will find a way to enhance braking performance on future iterations of the wheels.

I wonder if Mavic's "creative solution" to the poor braking performance will be as creative as the stick-on fairing.  Actually, I think we already know that the "creative solution" is going to come not from Mavic from the bike industry as a whole, and it's going to be road bike disc brakes so your multi-thousand dollar crabon wheels will finally stop as well as your $300 aluminum wheels.  Sadly, that's going to render all these crabon frames and wheels totally obsolete.  I'm actually excited about disc brake road bikes though, since it means the typical amateur racer will officially be clueless as to the operation of every single component of his bicycle, with the possible exception of his power meter.

Speaking of Freds and penises (I was earlier) and Strava (I was yesterday), a reader has sent me a link to Mr. Fred's Phallic Ride:

Note that this is a "recovery" ride, so presumably the phallic shape of his last ride was far more turgid--though hopefully it stopped short of "exploding-penis-itice," as forwarded to me by another reader:

Die drunk driving scum - w4m (Sherman and Brearly)

Date: 2012-06-13, 12:40AM CDT

Reply to: [deleted]

Dear A**hole driving erratically who just threw a beer can at me while I was riding my bike home from a friends house,

I hope you die of exploding-penis-itice. I hope it is very painful and that it spreads to your balls, causing they too, to explode. 

I hope it takes a long time for you to die of this incurable disease and that the unbearable stench keeps your loved ones from comforting you in your final hours of misery.

Love,

The Bike Rider 

Eloquently put.

Meanwhile, speaking of reckless drivers, New York City may be getting speed cameras:

I was a bit dismayed to see a cyclist riding on the sidewalk, but I was unsurprised that the article included quotes from idiots:

Wendell Kornegay, 48, from East New York, Brooklyn, said cameras could never capture the context of a traffic scene as an officer could. “I don’t think it’s fair,” he said, parking his vehicle near Rockefeller Center one day last week as his 1-year-old daughter, Melaine, sat quietly in her car seat. “If a cop was sitting there, you can see if someone was trying to catch the light to clear the intersection.”

If you're wondering why so many people get run over by cars in New York, it's because people like this think speeding up to catch a light is a mitigating circumstance--that and speeding in quiet areas:

Though he acknowledged the difficulty of even approaching 40 m.p.h. on many city streets, Mr. Kornegay wondered whether speeding was truly dangerous along desolate stretches where pedestrian traffic can be minimal at certain hours.

Right, nobody in New York ever gets run down late at night in quiet areas.  He should have his license revoked based on these comments alone.

As for cab drivers, they have to speed for the same reason everyone in this country does stupid and reckless things, which is that people from Wall Street order them to:

Chrishna Sooknanan, 26, a cabdriver from Flatbush, Brooklyn, was among the bus lane offenders, he said. But the speeding legislation presents a more complicated wrinkle: How does a New York City cabby — that avatar of manic roadway efficiency and lead-footedness — tell needy passengers that he is afraid to speed?

“They complain like crazy,” he said of his riders, particularly those who travel from the financial district and Midtown. “They say, ‘You’re going to make me late.’”

Technically, the correct reply to "You're going to make me late" is "You made yourself late," though "Fuck you" is also acceptable.  You could also wish "exploding-penis-itice" on your fare, but you don't want it to actually set in while they're still in your cab.

Breakfast of Champions: Starting the Day Off Right

As a commenter was kind enough to point out, yesterday was this blog's birthday.  To be honest, I never would have realized that myself, owing to my increasing inability to manage or keep track of time.  Also, I believe birthdays are a "Hallmark holiday" and a construct of the greeting card industry, a business concern which has done more to harm this planet than big oil, big tobacco, and the music of Big Country combined.  How many rainforests need to be raped so that a great aunt can mail some brat five dollars?  And don't think you're off the hook just because you opted for the e-card, because every time you send one a greeting card company employee clubs a baby seal to death with another baby seal.

Still, I'd like to pause for a moment to bask in my success, only I can't, because the truth is I'm not successful.  In fact, ever since starting this blog 15 years ago, my life has gone downhill more wildly than a fixie hillbomber with a broken chain.  Before becoming a bike blogger, I was the CEO of a large investment bank, making tens of millions of dollars a year in salary, bonuses, and other forms of compensation (which is financial industry jargon for "hookers").  Now, I have a shitty government job as the Secretary of the Treasury which only pays a measly six figures, and instead of replacing my Ultra-Red Record Ace Electronic shifters after every ride I'm forced to use the same pair for up to two weeks.

I've still never worn a pair of Rapha shorts more than once, though.  At those cheap prices I still consider them "one use only," like tissues or tampons.

Anyway, as a consummate failure, I've been trying to figure out where I went wrong, and I recently came upon an article that leads me to believe it could be due to shortcomings in my morning routine:

In particular, I should wake up early and immediately start praying:

"Seizing your mornings is the equivalent of that sound financial advice to pay yourself before you pay your bills. If you wait until the end of the month to save what you have left, there will be nothing left over. Likewise, if you wait until the end of the day to do meaningful but not urgent things like exercise, pray, read, ponder how to advance your career or grow your organization, or truly give your family your best, it probably won’t happen," Vanderkam writes. "If it has to happen, then it has to happen first," she says.


Unfortunately though, I'm unable to pray, since my religion (Orthodox Lobsterism) forbids it.  "Praying is for losers," it clearly states on the public restroom wall upon which is scrawled our sacred texts and commandments.  Also, I'm not convinced that cramming in a bunch of activities first thing in the morning is a formula for success.  Actually, it sounds more like a formula for constipation.  Whatever happened to pouring a cup of coffee, switching on the TV, and then adjourning to the "porcelain library" for some quality "downloading" time?  Then again, I suppose there might be a direct relationship between success and constipation, which would certainly go a long way towards explaining Mitt Romney.

Of course, while I may be a failure, things could be worse.  For example, I could be a middle-aged IT guy who wears a helmet cam, chases a bunch of idiots half his age, and then hawks the footage on the Internet, like Lucas Brunelle:



Though in all fairness I suppose idiots chasing other idiots is the basis of pretty much every form of "competitive" cycling, from the Tour de France on down.  In fact, idiots are so compelled to chase other idiots that they need to do it even when they're alone, which is why they invented Strava.  I suppose I could blame Strava for this, but it wouldn't be fair, since they're just fulfilling a desire that's already there.  It would be like blaming the Jergens people for masturbation.  Anyway, congratulations to Lucas Brunelle for emptying the "spank bank" of idiot porn he collected during his vacation days, and I'm sure this will appeal to the sorts of viewers who find "Premium Rush" too intellectually challenging.

Speaking of the Tour de France, you've probably heard by now that they're all over Lance Armstrong again:

As someone who finds the subject incredibly tedious, I react to these news stories like I do when I hear the Red Hot Chili Peppers have put out a new album--that is to say with a combination of total disinterest and utter disbelief that anybody is still paying attention.  I also think it's especially absurd that he's now been banned from triathlon, a sport which has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with cycling:

(This is not cycling, it's getting changed.)

Just let the guy dork out during his golden years.  Seriously, they might as well ban him from backgammon.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised the sport of cycling is still fixated on Armstrong though, because, as the saying goes, the more things change, the more they stay the same.  (This explains why triathletes change outfits like three times during a race, yet they still can't ride bikes.)  For example, way back when I started this blog, if you had asked me my predictions for 2012, I'd have said that by then I'd be living in Portland and running a bicycle-based business.  In fact, I even drew up a business plan for a company called "Hold Your Line," which would dispatch trained specialists to your home by bicycle to wait on the phone for you when you get put on hold, thus freeing you to do other things.  Unfortunately, it turned out that people don't actually have other things to do in Portland, since it's not a real city, and so they're perfectly happy to do all the holding themselves.

So alas, I'm still here in Brooklyn, and despite my best efforts I'm still periodically losing my temper.  For example, yesterday evening I yelled at a Hasidic minivan driver to shut up.  This was because he was honking at every cyclist he passed, as well as at every car in front of him the instant the light turned green.  Anyway, I feel bad about yelling, but his driving was rather vexing--it was like someone running around a supermarket and yelling, "Move, move!"  Generally speaking, I find that the more religious a driver is, the more inconsiderate he or she is--and this is true regardless of whether the bumper features a picture of Menachem Schneerson, or a Jesus fish, or any similar totem.  I'm not sure why this is--and don't tell me it's because religious people are complete hypocrites, because I refuse to believe that, for at no point in history has that hypothesis ever been borne out.

Speaking of Portland, I was reading Bike Portland's Twitter yesterday, where I learned someone got a ticket for "corking" a cop:

Corking, eh?  He should be lucky a ticket is all he got.  To paraphrase Yakov Smirnoff, here in New York City, the cops cork you!  Sometimes they use a plunger, but other times they just use their nightsticks.

Speaking of getting corked, nothing goes together like corking and tiny shorts:

Tiny shorts walking on Prospect Park on Monday June 11 - m4w - 39 (Brooklyn - Prospect Park)
Date: 2012-06-14, 1:14AM EDT
Reply to: [deleted]


As I was riding my mountain bike on Monday afternoon you were coming down on the left side with some tiny tiny shorts... You are white (I think), super sexy and curvy body, and those shorts... my lord, tiny that when I looked back I almost crashed lol... I raced to go around the bike trail and could not find you to at least say hi. I hope to bump into you again... You are definitely a woman to draw attention and I love that!!!! I will keep riding with hopes to learn about you. I am probably the ONLY guy that rides with smoked up Livestrong glasses, and I have a black TREK mountain bike. 


If it's you, hit me up... gonna be great to learn about each other. 

I wasn't sure what "smoked up Livestrong glasses" were, so I plugged the term into a popular search engine, but the closest thing I found was a recipe on the LiveStrong website for how to make a smoked ham.  Nevertheless, this raises an interesting question: Would you rather be stalked by a guy in smoked up LiveStrong glasses, or by a guy with a shaved head, goatee, mustache, and a bright red velvet smoking jacket?  Well, chances are that if you have a Kurt Vonnegut tattoo you'd opt for the latter:

girl w/kurt vonnegut tattoo on 2/3 train friday night - m4w - 25 (Manhattan)

Date: 2012-06-13, 12:26AM EDT

Reply to: [deleted]

We both got on the downtown 2/3 train at 135th st. around 9pm on 6/9.

You were a brunette with a kurt vonnegut tattoo on your right leg, I believe.

I'm a 25 year old white guy with a shaved head, goatee, mustache and I was wearing a bright red velvet smoking jacket.

I was going to chat you up about mr. vonnegut, but before I got on the train I had a heated argument with somebody and was still settling myself down.

if you see this let's chat! 

I certainly hope they find each other, because a love that pretentious only comes around once in a lifetime.

I Wanna Be A-Doored: Getting it Backwards Down Under

If you're reading this in an English-speaking country, it's probably Monday.  Of course, the exception to this is Australia, where due to the time difference it's been Monday for like three days now.  The Australian media has been using this time difference to great effect too, for they've gotten a great big head start on the rest of the world's Anglophones at being complete and utter morons as far as cycling is concerned.

Now, from time to time I get emails from people in Australia.  Usually, it's safe to ignore them, since they're generally just unsolicited outbursts of Australian jingoism along the lines of "I love kangaroos and Paul Hogan;" "The guy from the Fyxomatussin website took another picture of a bike;" or "Cadel Evans has won the Tour de France."  (Seriously, Cadel Evans winning the Tour de France?!?  Not in this lifetime!)  However, once in awhile more than one Australian will email me on the same subject, and that's when I know I should actually pay attention.  That's what happened this morning (or three days from now if you're in Australia) when a number of people (two, I think) alerted me to this morning show segment that was broadcast on ABC:

ABC is apparently the Australian national broadcaster, though judging from this segment it's what would happen if the BBC and Rupert Murdoch were to get drunk and conceive a child out of wedlock.  The story is about a campaign to increase the fines on motorists who "door" cyclists in Melbourne, and in it a reporter interviews Gary Brennan of the Bicycle Network Victoria;

At one point during the interview, the reporter asks:

"Are you worried that by increasing penalties that might be sending a message that it's always the motorist's fault?"

To which Mr. Brennan replies:

"Well it is always the motorist's fault.  The law makes no allowances for drivers in this case.  If you open a door into the path of a rider it's always your fault."

Simple enough.  You fling a car door open without looking and somebody hits it, it's your fault.  Sounds right to me.  However, shortly after that they cut back to the studio, and that's when these idiots once again prove that the movie "Anchorman" was indeed a documentary and that TV talking heads are vapid numbskulls who should never, ever be allowed to say anything that isn't written down for them beforehand:

"Just to even the ledger up a tiny, weensy bit," says the Bruce on the left while making a crushing-your-head motion, "Did I hear him say it's always the motorist's fault or is my hearing failing?"

"No, we both heard that," replies the Bruce on the right smugly.

"It's not the case," declares Bruce on the left.

"I would say that you probably need to take that comment with a little bit of caution," ejaculates the Bruce on the right moronically.

"A sackload of salt, not just a grain," quips left Bruce, and then goes on about how "...we've all seen our fair share of reckless cyclists as well so I think it's very unfair to purely blame motorists 100% of the time."

"More education and more awareness on both sides is what's needed," quips the Bruce on the right, making it clear that she has no firsthand experience with either.

Right, we've all seen our fair share of reckless cyclists who ride into opening car doors on purpose.  If anything, it's probably the reckless cyclists who don't get doored, since when you're salmoning the door angle works in your favor.  Actually, as a cyclist and as a driver, it's very difficult for me to envision a situation in which a cyclist could possibly be at fault in the event of a dooring.  I suppose if a cyclist were actually riding in your private driveway you might have a case, but other than that it's on you.

Of course, because some cyclists are too stupid to fasten a quick release skewer properly, the law punishes the rest of us by requiring our fork dropouts to have safety tabs.  Given this, and given the fact that so many motorists are obviously too stupid to open their car doors properly, shouldn't there at least be some sort of "door safety tab" that requires a step beyond simply pulling the door handle?  Like, maybe you could pull the handle, the door would only open an inch, and then you'd have to pull it again.  Or, maybe all cars need to be outfitted with sliding minivan-style doors.  Sure, people would still exit their cars without looking, but in that case at least we'd hit them instead.  Not only are people softer than doors, but also maybe that way they'd finally start getting the message.

Sadly, I don't see any of this happening any time soon, and in Australia and elsewhere I'm sure moronic motorists will keep flinging their doors open heedlessly and treating doorings as an irritating natural inevitability, like "bird strikes" on airplanes.  They'll also maintain that the real problem is that cyclists are reckless, and that the solution to all cycling-related problems is to make cyclists wear helmets.

Speaking of helmets, a reader recently forwarded me the following apology published by Bicycle Indiana:


We apologize for our error


Please accept our apology for the picture displayed at the close of the May 2012 E-News. This image was a stock photo of a family bicycling.  The use of this image in Bicycle Indiana's e-news was the wrong choice because none of the riders are wearing bicycle helmets. We understand that our members expect Bicycle Indiana to lead by example. Bicycle Indiana recommends and encourages helmet use for all bicyclists and the image displayed provided the incorrect perception that we endorse riding a bicycle without a helmet. We will be more judicious in our choices in the future. 


Oh no!  A family enjoying their bicycles while not wearing helmets?!?  They're all going to die!!!

Fortunately though, Bicycle Indiana addressed the problem via the judicious application of Photoshop:

In the smug world of bike advocacy, a helmetless rider is the equivalent of a "nip slip" on the Disney Channel.  Yet in the world of triathlon, it's perfectly acceptable to ride around while steeping in your own urine, as in this "how to" that was forwarded to me by another reader:

Here's why, if you're a triathlete, you'e supposed to go pee-pee all over yourself while riding:

He always made a point that this “natural process” is as important as quick transitions in a race, since if you have to go and CAN’T, you are either going to be miserable, or have to stop. If you stop, you’ll want to stop at an approved place as you may be penalized and have minutes added to your time if you don’t. I don’t care if you are FOP, MOP or BOP – minutes are minutes, and minutes are the enemy!

The first problem with this is that, if you're participating in a triathlon, you're going to be miserable anyway, so really, what's the difference?  Also, if triathletes urinate as smoothly as they transition then it must be a staccato affair indeed:

Really, the urinary equivalent of a triathlon transition would be this.

Anyway, if you're a triathlete looking to shave a handful of seconds off of the five minutes you lost trying to figure out how your clipless pedals work, here's how you do it:

The key to letting it all go is a downhill slope, relaxation, and a carefree attitude.

Unfortunately, if you're a triathlete, there's no way you could possibly have a relaxed and carefree attitude, so you may have to hold it in after all.  Also, triathletes apparently urinate in packs just like they ride in packs--heedlessly, unpredictably, and inconsiderately:

Also, don’t worry about other people behind you. Once they realize what is happening, they will get out of the way very quickly.

Then, afterwards, they start bragging about their "personal bests:"

Let me also say that after doing it once, it becomes so much easier to do it again. At Wildflower, I peed at miles 40 and 45! At IMLP, I simply lost count.

To him that might be a personal best, but I believe the clinical term for that is "incontinence."

Of course, by this point you may be wondering why they just don't pee in the water during the swimming part, but applying logic to an event as absurd as a triathlon is like trying to apply a sticker to an oily surface.

Lastly, speaking of maximizing performance, you may recall Tyler Hamilton's allegations regarding "lunch bags" and the US Postal Service cycling team:

The best cyclists received white lunch bags filled with the blood-booster EPO, human growth hormone and testosterone from team doctors who handed them out casually, as if those bags contained sandwiches and juice boxes. 

Well, regardless of what you think of Hamilton's claims it's clear that the Postal Services recognizes the demand for easy substance "portaging," because now you can purchase this smart insulated lunch cooler instead:

Forget those boring, brown paper bags. Take your lunch to go in a new, reusable postal lunch cooler. Simply add an ice pack to prevent spoilage. This lunch bag protects against leaks with a 100% waterproof lining. These reusable coolers also feature a zipper closure and a Royal blue design with a horizontal white Postal logo. Ships USPS. 

Just be sure to ask for the "soigneur's discount."

Priorities: Physically Fit, Mentally Unfit

No sooner have I returned home than I must set out again on Leg II of The Wildcat Rock Machine "Enlightened Cyclist" World Annoyance Tour, or whatever it's called, and to be perfectly honest I'm somewhat tempted to play "hooky" and stay home instead.  This is because I'm something of a homebody--or, more accurately, I'm a rare type of shut-in who only makes an exception for bicycle cycling.  However, my tour is being sponsored by Brooks England LTD., and as you may know, they employ a "bloke" by the name of Eric "The Chamferer" Murray:


Well, as it happens, Eric "came 'round for tea" this past weekend, by which I mean he placed his chamfering knife to my throat and uttered words to the effect of "Finish the tour or Ima fucking kill you."  This changed my outlook considerably, and in a few short hours I will be sealing myself in a bike box under Eric's watchful eyes and then sending myself via UPS to Portland, OR, where I will be at the following places at the following times:

PORTLAND (OR)

Tuesday, April 10

6:00pm ride

916 NW 21st Avenue

Portland, Oregon 97209

(503) 222-2851

www.21stbikes.com

7:30pm talk and booksigning

Powell's City of Books

1005 W Burnside

Portland, OR 97209

(503) 228-4651

www.powells.com

I hope you will join me, if only to help me pick the packing peanuts off of myself.  Then, after that, it's on to the following cities:

Seattle

Vancouver

San Francisco

Los Angeles

You can find additional details here.  Also, my gruelling touring schedule will have the unavoidable consequence of impacting my blogular posting schedule, but I will do my very best to keep you apprised ahead of time as to when I will or won't be able to type words into this thing.  Also, I implore you to follow my Twitter, only because I'm liable to get lost or confused in these strange cities and I may need to reach out to "the Twitteroni" for assistance and/or bail money.

Speaking of being a homebody, this past weekend I found myself at home and in front of my television, and so I was able to watch the Paris-Roubaix bicycle race.  Paris-Roubaix is of course the one that's really bumpy, and it was won by somebody named Thomas Booning.  Booning won with "panache," which is the French cycling term for doing that really cool "leaning on your forearms during a solo breakaway" thing:

Pro tip: if you want to pull off this look while on the bike, just pretend you're browsing the Nashbar catalog in the bathroom while experiencing a slightly uncomfortable "movement."

Also, if you watched the race on NBC Sports Network (previously Versus, née OLN), this is pretty much all you saw, because they began their coverage well after Booning made his decisive move.  While it's tempting to criticize NBC for sparing us from any extraneous racing drama that didn't consist of Booning simply riding all by himself, at least they had the courtesy to stick with him all the way to the finish, and this says a lot about the network's dedication to cycling.  Sure, Paris-Roubaix may be the Queen of the Classics, but as far as most Americans are concerned it's really just that girly thing that's on before "Babe Winkelman's Outdoor Secrets."

I'm not sure what kinds of secrets Babe Winkelman actually shares on his show because I didn't stick around to watch it, but I'm guessing it's stuff like this:

("Pssst!  If you shoot an animal in a vital organ, chances are pretty good that it's going to die.")

My rudimentary understanding of TV programming is that one show is supposed to lead the audience into another, but I suspect there's about as much audience crossover between Paris-Roubaix and "Babe Winkelman's Outdoor Secrets" as there is between "Californication" and reruns of "The Golden Girls."

By the way, if you want to practice your "panache" in the bathroom and you don't have a Nashbar catalog handy (which is highly unlikely if you're a cyclist, since merely thinking about riding a bike is enough to land you on their mailing list), you can always use an issue of "Bicycling" instead:

(Disembodied foot thumbing toeing through the latest issue of "Bicycling.")

"What's your ideal cycling weight?," asks the article above, and then invites you to find out by using various "self-assessment" formulas like these:

("Ooh, homework!")

Now, it may very well be true that "Every extra pound you carry above your ideal weight makes you 15 to 20 seconds slower for each mile of a climb" as the article claims, it's also true that the typical cyclist reading "Bicycling" on the toilet has about as much to gain from losing a little bit of weight as someone with $14 in the bank has to gain from switching to an account with a slightly higher interest rate.  Really, if your cycling life is somehow not complete without taking written tests, you're probably just better off riding your bike and then taking a practice GRE.  At least then you can enjoy your dinner.

Meanwhile, on a more serious note, if you've been wondering why drivers in New York City who kill cyclists almost never get in trouble, here's your answer:

As you may have suspected, it's because "society" says that the right to drive is more important than the right to remain alive:

“We as a society have chosen to drive these big cars,” said  Joe McCormack, an assistant District Attorney for the Bronx. It’s his job to prosecute traffic crimes.  “And we also as a society have chosen not to criminalize every single small mistake that just has a dramatic consequence because your driving a car,” he said.

Now, this doesn't mean it's impossible to get in trouble for killing a cyclist with your car.  It just means you have to be doing a whole lot of illegal crap all at once:

In a 2009 case, a driver who had just sold heroin to an undercover officer was fleeing the scene when he struck and killed a cyclist. He was sentenced to seven-and-a-half to 15 years.

Now that's multitasking.

However, killing someone while breaking only one law simply isn't enough, even if that law exists to keep people from being killed:

“There are times where the factual situation that is presented to us doesn’t rise to a crime,” McCormack said. “And it’s important to realize that the reason it doesn’t rise to a crime is that society has made that decision that it doesn’t want it to be a crime.”

This confirms something I've long suspected, which is that "society" is mentally unfit and really shouldn't be allowed to make decisions.

And if this weren't bad enough, a reader has informed me of this bicycle:

Not only is it a total Nü-Fred dream chariot:

But it's also "breaking necks all over nyc:"

Custom Cervelo P3 size 58. It’s in great condition and has no dents or dings, custom paint job in lexus starfire white pearl (color code 077 profesionally applied). This is a one of a kind bike, currently breaking necks all over nyc, bid now and you can enjoy it in your city.

As Grant Petersen would surely tell you, if you're bike's breaking necks, you might want to go with a taller stem.

Conquests: Another Notch in the Belt

I have a recurring nightmare in which I wake up in Minneapolis, Minnesota.  So you can imagine my horror this morning when I awoke and discovered that it had come true.

Stumbling outside, I resolved to make the best of it, and so far things really don't seem all that bad.  For example, the gigantic liquor store has a bike rack that's cleverly shaped like a bike:

Also, the retail establishments are full of that Midwestern "can-do" spirit:

Old Man Roberts confirmed that he could indeed fit my foot, but when I told him I wanted shoes of the finest perforated yak leather he told me to "get the fuck out."

And there's even a gun store right next to a "New York style" Chinese restaurant:

I am completely ignorant of "gun culture" and thus have no idea what a "conceal carry class" entails, though I assume it covers how to shove a pistol into your waistband without shooting off your "pants yabbies."  In any case, it's comforting to know that if I'm overcome with homesickness I can drown my sorrows in a quart or two of wonton soup and then cry myself to sleep while clutching an egg roll.

Oh, and there's even what appears to be some sort of bicycle superhighway:

Long shadows of dorky bloggers fall upon this highway, and across it blow high winds--which, if you listen closely, also carry the soporific murmurings of Garrison Keillor.  It's also flanked by a forlorn simian bike rack that made me feel like Charlton Heston in the Forbidden Zone:

As well as by Freewheel Bikes:

This is where we'll be meeting at 4:00 today for a ride over to the University of Minnesota Bookstore for my BRA, and I hope you will come out and join me.  (Please leave your guns at home, unless it's more dangerous around here than I think it is, in which case please bring your guns with you and protect me.)

Moving on, yesterday I mentioned the Gent-Wevelwhatever bike race, and I'm sorry I didn't actually watch it because Klaus of Cycling Inquisition has informed me that if I had watched it I might have seen this:

 
(You have to click on it.)

Speaking of women in cycling, how to get more women on bikes is a popular subject among the advocacy set.  Now, I'm not a woman, but I've met a few, and I've come to the conclusion that besides the various glands and stuff men and women really aren't all that different.  Sure, men love manly stuff like guns and cinderblocks, whereas women love womanly stuff like pretty guns and cinderblocks upholstered in velvet, but when it comes down to it we mostly have the same needs.  In particular, we are all born with a strong desire to not get hurt or killed.  For this reason, I believe that the less likely it is you'll get hurt or killed on a bike, the more likely it is people will ride one, regardless of genitalway.  Therefore, we should just make the streets safer and be done with it, right?

The only problem is that this solution does ignore one crucial difference between men and women, which is that men are far more likely than women to come up with dumb ideas--especially when those ideas involve anything mechanical.  That's why the latest phase of the Gates Belt Drive Anti-Bicycle Chain Conspiracy involves foisting them on women, as I've learned from their latest press release:

For Immediate Release


Gates Carbon Drive™ Reaches out to Women with Videos that Highlight the Clean, Low-Maintenance Advantages of Belt Drive Bikes
Marketing initiative aimed at recruiting new cyclists seeking bikes they can jump on and ride, minus the grease


(Denver, March 26, 2012) – To encourage more women and non-cyclists to ride bicycles, Gates Carbon Drive™ has launched a “Get Belted” video campaign that highlights the clean and low-maintenance advantages of belt drive bikes.


The videos, which can be seen at the Gates Carbon Drive channel on YouTube, show the lifestyle benefits of riding a bike with Gates Carbon Drive. The first video, “High Maintenance Boyfriend,” pokes fun at the greasy mess of chains and features a female cyclist who comes home to find a trail of grime left by her filthy bike mechanic boyfriend.


The second video, “Built to Last,” highlights the longevity of belt drives (they typically last twice as long as chains) and shows a young mother taking her toddler, who transforms into an adolescent, for a spin in a tow-trailer.


The message:  thanks to its cleanliness and longevity, Gates Carbon Drive makes cycling easier and more appealing. “Gates hopes to eliminate some of the barriers to cycling by helping to create low-maintenance bikes that people can just jump on and ride, with no pre-ride lube or work required,” says Frank Scurlock, global business development director for Gates Carbon Drive Systems.


“Belt drives offer distinct advantages for time-stressed people,” says Todd Sellden, global director of Gates Carbon Drive Systems. “We believe that Carbon Drive is a technology that can get more people riding bikes for health, fitness, and environmental benefits.”

Will this automotive accessory manufacturing concern stop at nothing to take over our tiny little human-powered industry?  First they tried the "high performance" thing with singlespeed mountain bikes and the NAHBS sponsorship, and now they're trying the whole anti-performance "we love women thing" thing.  Yes, only a man could come up with the idea that the one thing standing between women and bikes is a piece of cycling equipment.  Sure, women don't want to get their pretty guns and velvet cinderblocks dirty when they ride, but that's why the Almighty Lobster on High created chainguards.  Still, it's a highly entertaining piece of anti-chain propaganda:



I particularly enjoyed the squeaky chain sounds they added to the scene in which the doofus with the mustache is cleaning his chainrings:

Gender issues aside, in what universe does a bicycle remain clean, with or without a chain?  If you work on a dirty bike you're going to get dirty no matter what kind of drivetrain it has.  Even performing maintenance on one of these will make you look like a Victorian chimney sweep if it's ridden often and never cleaned.

But while people may argue about how to get more women into cycling, there's one sure way to drive them out of it, and that's by exposing them to Mario Cipollini.  Many people have informed me that Cipollini is now working with a women's cycling team, and the resulting video is filthier than a chain drive on a messenger bike in a Minneapolis winter.  This team will be on MCipollini bikes, so naturally the great man was magnanimous enough to give them a chance to be on Mario Cipollini himself, but what he does to these poor women is nothing short of disgraceful:



There's a real lack of explanation in this video, and what you miss are some of the ethnographic subtleties of the mating rituals of the Cipollini alpha male.  In Italy, the summoning of a woman of age to the Cipollini domicile is a rite of passage that is cause for both celebration and mourning.  While parents are quite proud and send their daughters off with great fanfare, they also know the loss of innocence that awaits her, and so once she departs they wear all black and pray for a month.  It is also not uncommon for neighbors and relatives to visit and bring gifts at this time, for they know the daughter will return great with child.

As for the daughters themselves, when a group of women greets the Cipollini, it is customary for them to receive him in an orderly "V" formation:

While the Cipollini himself prepares by performing shirtless index finger warm-up exercises:

Once introduced, the ensuing interactions are highly ritualized.  First there is the Supplication:

Then there is the Inspection:

And then, finally, the Selection:

That shoulder tap means only one thing.  I shouldn't have to explain what that thing is, but it's very oily, and nine months later there's a child with a full mane of hair and a set of teeth like a whale's baleen.

Of course, modern social conventions require that this primitive ritual takes place under the guise of a team training camp, but it's around this point that some of the more savvy women on the team begin to suspect that Mario Cipollini is not in fact a trained physical therapist:

(Cipollini manipulating the leg during the Inspection phase in order to obtain an optimal line of sight.)

Nevertheless, he keeps up the ruse.  "Cycling comes from the primal rhythmic pulsations of the groin," explains Cipo below:

It sounds much better in Italian.  (Actually, pretty much everything sounds better in Italian, including the words, "My team's bike sponsor gave me an STD.")

Here, Cipollini's hands wander to parts of the body that have little or nothing to do with pedal stroke analysis:

Speaking of stroke analysis, here's Cipollini showing exactly how he likes to be stroked:

Whereas this part actually looks worse than it is:

Sure, it may look they're in the process of mating, but Cipollini is merely working out the optimal position for the obligatory "Cipo Was Here" team "tramp stamp."

In any case, once the coupling is complete, Cipollini then mimes the Caressing of the Imaginary Body Parts:

And then they go for a ride during which Cipollini beats them all in a sprint:

Judge if you must, but you only reveal your ethnocentrism.