BSNYC Friday Fun Quiz!

Last Wednes Day, the day named in honor of St. Wednes, the patron saint of whatever and stuff, I mentioned that I think more bike company websites should tell you exactly how to use each one of their bike models. But then I realized something: bicycle companies don't really need to do this, because that's what the bicycle media is for. Consider Bicycling magazine, to which I contribute a column. Nobody can distill a bicycle to its essence like the editors of Bicycling. Consider, for example, their summary of the Electra Ticino 1. Wondering what this bike is for? Well, here's your answer:

WHO IT'S BEST FOR: People who get on their bikes to pick up a loaf of sourdough and wander home two hours later

So there you go. If you regularly get a hanking for sourdough bread, set out to buy some, and then suddenly black out and lose hours of time before eventually wandering home confused and disheveled with bits of hay in your hair, the Electra Ticino 1 is the bike for you. Of course, a leading cause of this sort of time loss is alien abduction, so if you pick up a Ticino the first thing you should do is upgrade the saddle to something more comfortable, since the stock one may be a bit too firm for your sensitive, freshly-probed posterior. Or, even better, ignore that inexplicable sourdough craving in the first place, because everybody knows that's how the aliens lure you.

Granted, not everybody who loses chunks of time is an alien abductee--some of them just have metal plates in their heads that don't play well with their household appliances:

Expect Electra to unveil a limited edition Ticino in a special "Cousin Eddie" colorway at this year's Interbike.

Speaking of unveiling, yesterday was the Team Leopard-Trek presentation, and the cycling world got its first look at what was without question the greatest assembly of "Euro hair" that modern civilization has ever seen:

(The scarves are so their hair gel doesn't drip down their shirts and into their underpants.)

At first when I heard all the hubbub about the Leopard presentation I thought Apple was just launching a new operating system, and so I ignored it. But then I realized that this was the new Andy and Frank Schleck team everybody has been talking about. Apparently, Andy Schleck himself came up with the name, though it was subsequently shortened from his very cumbersome "Leopard Attacking a Crocodile Because That Would Be Awesome:"

It would indeed, but there was no way it was going to fit on the tiny jerseys that will cover their spindly, emaciated pro cyclist bodies.

Sadly, I wasn't at the presentation because my invitation dissolved due to exposure to haircare products before it even left Luxembourg, but it does look like it was very exciting. For example, here's an unctuous Fabian Cancellara looking like one of the kids on "You Can't Do That On Television" after they've been "slimed:"

After being dogged by rumors, Cancellara finally admitted to using a Gruber Assist, though it turns out "Gruber" isn't an auxiliary bicycle motor at all but actually the name of his stylist:

(Euro-Hair Curatorial Artisan and Wardrobe Consultant Hans "Magic Hands" Gruber)

Nice assist, Gruber. Your client looks like he's been doing stunt double work for Bill Murray in "Ghostbusters."

Also, Leopard-Trek will, as you might have guessed, ride sweet Treks:

The Di2 electronic shifters will be retrofitted with special "Excuse-O-Matic" technology in the form of a button that will instantly throw the chain should Andy Schleck be unable to answer an attack.

However, Leopard-Trek have already received much criticism for their team kit, which is, admittedly, horrible:

It makes even Mario Cipollini's most flambullient skinsuit seem tasteful.

With that out of the way, I'm pleased to present you with a quiz. Here are your instructions:

1) Consume the energy drink or brain tonic of your choice;

2) Study the item;

3) Consider the choices;

4) Click on the one you think is right;

5) Duck.

If it is actually right, leopards will roar and candycorns will rain from the sky. If it's wrong, you'll see this aqua-tandem hydrofoil freakout that was forwarded to me by a reader.

Thanks very much for reading, ride safe, and for the love of Lob avoid sourdough!

--BSNYC/RTMS

1) This bike can be used for any of the following except:

--"Blasting around town."
--"Stashing behind your seat on the train."
--"Leaving other bike commuters in the dust."
--"Pursuing, pouncing upon, and devouring a crocodile or any member of the order Crocodilia."

(Tri dorks attempting to mount their expensive time trial bikes is sooo 2010.)

2) Fill in the blank: Triathlete bike mounting porn is out; _____________________ is in.

--Offroad recumbent porn

--Brompton folding porn

--Cyclocross remount porn

--Unicycle commuting porn

3) This advertisement appeared in the year:

--1989

--1998

--2001

--2010

4) “I am looking now for a bike that has a hybrid engine,” said Fabian Cancellara. “It’s better for the environment, because a battery is not good.”

--True

--False

(Always look for the Best Made "X:" Your assurance of douchery)

5) Great news for urban fops, faux woodsmen, and outdoor dandies! Bedazzled axe reseller Best Made Company now offers an $89 designer first aid kit for all the dumb hipsters who will inevitably chop off one of their own limbs.

--True

--False

(Fixed-gear spaceship trackstands over Williamsburg, Brooklyn in the year 2100)

6) In the future, all road bikes will have:

--Electronic shifting

--GPS

--Giant antenna-like cockpits

--Deadly lasers

***Special "Well, Somebody Had To Say It"-Themed Bonus Question***

What did they think?

--"Sweet! The 2011 Primal jerseys have dropped!"

--"It's like a deranged undead Betsy Ross cut up the worst jerseys from the '80s and stitched them together into one Fred-tastic über-jersey for the new millennium."

--"Who's the guy in the clown shirt?"

--All of the above

Boss Tweed: Changing the Streets One Dandy At A Time

If you're reading this blog, you probably enjoy bicycles--and why not? They're fun, expensive, and often made out of crabon. However, as everybody knows, they're also deadly. Yes, a single bicycle is more of a menace to public safety than a speeding SUV, or a nuclear submarine, or a runaway steamroller being driven by a 14 year-old Yeshiva student drunk out of his mind on kosher wine. Fortunately, the city is finally going to protect us from deadly bicycles by administering a "crack down" on cyclists who commit infractions that are potentially deadly to others, like failing to signal their turns:

Being a cyclists in New York City is a lot like being a child character in a Dickens novel--most of the time, we're neglected and forced to fend for ourselves, but every so often the authority figures remember that we exist and decide to beat the crap out of us. As is always the case when I hear about crackdowns like this, I have mixed feelings. On one foot, I believe in responsible cycling, and if you break the law eventually you're going to get nailed for it. But on the other claw, when you ride a bike in a city that, for all its shiny new bike lanes, is still pretty hostile to you, it can be hard not to flout a rule or two when it's in your own best interest. It's like the hungry orphan nabbing a crust of bread out of desperation--and here comes the head of that cane, ready to smash our greedy little mitts.

Probably the worst thing about crackdowns like this though is that cyclists will start to get all self-righteous about it, as though nobody else ever experiences them. The truth is, if you drive a car in New York City it's exactly the same thing. For example, even though it's illegal, you can drive around all day long with your BlackBerry glued to your ear without a police officer so much as glancing up from his newspaper. But then one day you turn on the news and hear about some cellphone crackdown, and a bunch of people get pulled over, and they all probably feel persecuted because suddenly they're getting punished for something they do all the time. Then the crackdown's over, everybody keeps talking on their phones while driving, and that's it. It's like the old cartoon with the wolf and the sheepdog.

Of course, there is a key difference, which is that cars kill lots of people, whereas bicycles kill pretty much nobody (though occasionally the people riding them do get killed by cars). Sure, it would be nice if the city would recognize this and change the laws accordingly, but I don't expect them to, in the same way I don't expect Naftali Hershtik to suddenly record an album of Christmas carols--I'd only be setting myself up for disappointment. What I do think is a reasonable wish, though, is that the average bike lane hater in Park Slope would recognize this discrepancy and realize a car is much more likely to kill a child than a bike is, but sadly that's not what's going on. Generally speaking, people get the same sense of satisfaction from watching cyclists get punished that they get from watching the fat kid in teen comedies fail to get laid.

So what's the answer? How do we get people to like us? Well, stunningly, some people think the answer is tweed:

Start an annual fashion award for the best-dressed man or woman on a bike. One of the best trends in the city is the high-heeled, flowery-dressed woman or tweed-suited man making their way by bicycle through the city. It’s harder to drive like a maniac when you’re behind one of them.

He started out well enough with the whole "change the legal relationship between pedestrians, cyclists and drivers" thing, but if this guy thinks that tweed is traffic-calming then he's got to be completely insane. Part of the reason people drive like maniacs when they're behind cyclists is that they think the cyclist is holding them up. (Obviously, this is not really the case, but it's what stupid drivers think.) So, they beep, yell, and floor the accelerator to get around them--and that's just when they see a fellow commuter who's just going to work the same as they are. Change that commuter into a "flowery-dressed woman" or a "tweed-suited man" who looks like he's on his way to a croquet match or a 19th century lawn party and that impatience turns to rage. It's only slightly less irritating than being inconvenienced by a mime. As human beings, our ability to cheer up angry people who hate their lives by behaving charmingly and whimsically drops off sharply after about the age of four.

I've long wondered why people consider so-called "tweed rides" a form of bicycle advocacy or how they're supposed to make normal people want to start cycling. Sure, when I see a bunch of white people dressed up like it's the 1800s I think of a lot of things, but none of them are cycling-related and most of them are bad. Just a few things that spring to mind for me are:

--Colonialism

--Segregation

--Child Labor

--Sexual Repression

--Polio

If they're looking to promote a return to Victorian sensibilities, repeal universal sufferage, or even turn Civil War reenacting into a mainstream sport they're doing a great job, but if they want to promote cycling they might want to look for a different approach. I've heard a lot of dumb anti-bike lane arguments too, but to their credit none of them have involved a bunch of people dressing like a young Mr. Burns from "The Simpsons" and taking to the streets in Model Ts.

I shouldn't be surprised that people think that costumes can change the world though, for we live in the age of the transformative wardrobe, and the urban dandy is king:

Brooklyn is positively full of bearded dandies right now, so I was surprised to learn that there's actually a man who is the Bearded Dandy. I wonder if he's like the head vampire, and if someone were to cut off his beard all the other dandies would suddenly disappear--which would be a shame, because I'd really miss this guy and his abdomen:

All You Haters Crop My Mailman Pants.

Also, tweed riding and dandyism go hand in manicured hand with "cycle chic," and a reader informs me this even has devotees in Japan:

That's one flambullient tallis.

In fairness to things like tweed rides and "cycle chic" though I guess I can understand it as a reaction to the prevailing view of cyclists, which can basically be summarized thusly: "Wear your helmet and get the hell out of my way." In fact, sometimes the only place I feel welcome when I'm riding a bike is on the ocean floor, which could explain this ad I saw while reading the above New York Times article:

(Insert Rivendell Atlantis reference here.)

I guess sub-aquatic credit card touring is the new randonneuring.

At any rate, I'm always pleased to receive a photo of a happy person wearing a vibrant orange prayer shawl, in the same way I'm pleased to receive the occasional sympathy e-card, like this one:

But none of these things pleases me as much as receiving a photo of a stranger's chamois:

Apparently, it's made of "crabyon," which I can only assume is related to "crabon." I won't claim to understand the science behind this, but I do know that I wouldn't want anything with "crab" in the name in that area.

(Un)Hinged: Knowing When to Fold 'Em

They say "Idle hands are the Devil's workshop," and yesterday afternoon I found this saying to be all too true. Earlier in the day, I had been engaging in my favorite hobby, the noble and wholesome pursuit of food styling, but once I finished putting a decorative kilt on what was undoubtedly the finest haggis I've ever styled I found myself with nothing to do. So I turned to the Internet and started looking at bikes, and it wasn't long before things started to get ugly.

Actually, they didn't get ugly so much as they got dorky, for I found myself wallowing haggis-deep in the weird, hinged, and pliable world of folding bicycles. While I'm not actually in the market for a folding bicycle at this very moment, I am very close to "pulling the trigger" on a luxury yacht, so I figure it might be nice to keep 15 or 20 folders aboard so that my guests and I can take in the sights of Antibes or St. Barts or wherever my helper monkey, sea captain, and business manager Vito takes us. (Vito wears a lot of hats, though they're all fezzes.)

I must say that I enjoyed my foray into the folding world, mostly because of the Dahon website. At first I was bewildered by their many offerings, but I soon noticed that they very helpfully explained how to use each bicycle. For example, the "Mu P8" should be used for "Stashing behind your seat on the subway," "Beating traffic over the Brooklyn Bridge," and "Vineyard hopping in Napa"--all of which constitutes a very full day, even if you do own a luxury yacht:

It did not, however, explain the meaning or pronunciation of "Mu P8," though I'll just assume it's pronounced "MOOpate" and refers to the act of bovine masturbation.

Anyway, as a soon-to-be luxury yacht owner, there's no way I'd ever be caught dead on the subway, so next I checked out the equally versatile "Speed P8," (or "SPEEDpate"):
That one's for "Fast cruising to that class across campus," "Bar hopping (eco style) on Friday nights," and "Exploring in Costa Rica:"

It's perfect for that insufferably smug college student who goes on environmentally friendly benders (I assume this means drinking out of homemade bamboo cups), blacks out, and wakes up in the middle of a Costa Rican jungle.

But for sheer "urban assault" hijinx and general "Cat 6" racer douchery, you've got to go with the "Mu XL Sport," which is pronounced "MYOOKcil" and is named after a popular expectorant:
The idea that somewhere there lives a ninja-like commuter racer who carries a folder and is ready to unfurl it and engage in "epic" battles with other commuters at a moment's notice is simultaneously horrifying and awe-inspiring.

Even more awe-inspiring is this video of a man demonstrating how to fold a Brompton, to which I was alerted by a fellow member of the "Twitteroni:"

I'm assuming he turned the light on so he'd be able to find it later.

In any case, I really like the idea of bicycle company websites telling you exactly how to use each one of their products, and I think all of them should do it. For example, you may be wondering what this misshapen hunk of crabon is, and what you're supposed to do with it:



Obviously, as a semi-professional bike blogger I know exactly what it's for, but how are you supposed to know unless the "Big S" tells you? They really need to update their website to include the following information:

Perfect For:

--Dominating your local charity ride.

--Customizing with an adjustable stem and bento box and riding on the bike path in sweatpants.

--Heroic Fred-tastic exploits and other feats of bike-dorkitude.

Or how about this complicated boingy thing?

How do I know if I need all that suspension, or if this will suit my riding style, unless it says something like this?

Perfect for:

--Hanging on the trunk rack of your Nissan Armada.

--Riding over the same small log over and over again while wearing full body armor and no helmet as your friend films you with a Flip camera.

--Posting on Pinkbike.

And what is this thing for?

Perfect for:

--Weighing almost three-quarters of a hundred pounds and carrying payloads as large as a baguette and a small dog.

--Humiliating your family by participating in your local tweed ride.

--Feeling superior to people with expensive road bikes because, while your bike is just as expensive, it's also vastly slower and more unwieldy.

Of course, some bikes need no explanation:

Perfect for:

--Being a total hipster.

Speaking of hipsters, while important cycling blogs of record such as All Hail The Black Market have declared the "h word" dead (that's "hipster" and not "hephaestian"), I maintain that it is very much alive, for the simple and undeniable reason that, here in Brooklyn anyway, hipsters are still all around us in ever-increasing numbers. In fact, as of now they're a more powerful force here than ever before, since they'll all returning from their parents' houses where they spent the holidays, flush with cash and armed with renewed out-of-state driver's licenses and ironic bric-a-brac from their old bedrooms.

For this reason, simply retiring the word "hipster" is not going to change anything. I can declare the word "pigeon" dead too, but that's not going to stop them from defecating on my head. After all, "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," and a hipster by any other name would still be a fashion victim with a cloying sense of entitlement. Plus, you still can't point a camera anywhere near a bike without inadvertently capturing a hipster like a tuna fisherman snaring a dolphin. Consider this photograph from a recent BikePortland post:

Notice how the smoking hipster just kind of worked his way in there, silently mocking the whole thing:

In fact, hipsterism is so pervasive in cycling that it's even resulted in a discipline as rule-bound as any other. Consider this video I saw recently on Trackasaurusrex, which embodies it perfectly:

Long Beach Cruisin. from The Fly on Vimeo.

First, as we all know by now, if you're going to cover your bars at all you should be sure to cover only the portion of the bar upon which you never, ever place your hands:

It's like walking around barefoot with your socks on your hands.

This goes hand-in-sock with another rule of hipster cycling, which is to never, ever place your hands in the drops--even if you're (ahem) "sprinting:"


Speaking of sprinting, it's always fun to watch an under-muscled rider do the "overgeared hipster hula-hoop wiggle:"

Of course, once this awkwardly writhing union of bicycle and outfit do finally get up to speed, it can't really stop because it doesn't have a brake. So, as soon as things start getting hairy they take to the sidewalk like a weak swimmer dominating the kiddie pool:

I rue the day when these kinds of hats infested cycling, and they should stay inside customized Honda Civics and in front of video game consoles where they belong:


Next, it's only a matter of time in any fixed-gear video before they start making with the idiot skids:

After which comes the inevitable "money shot" in the form of a rear blowout:


Undone by his own idiocy, he's now forced to walk home, and when he reaches his building he of course does the "Rockette Dismount:"

(Germophobic hipster rings buzzer with foot.)

So help me Lob I saw someone dismount this way before a run-up at a cyclocross race this season, so if hipsterism is dead then I'll eat a pair of Rivendell Splats.

By the way, always dress to match your lobby:

Then, after your ride-ending flat tire, be sure to head right for your Apple editing suite and make an "edit:"

In the "h-word" world, if it's not on video, it didn't happen.

Utility and Futility: Let He Who Is Without Sin Cast the First Beverage

Recently, I received a mass email from the Oregon Manifest. Oregon is the state where the city of Portland is in. When post-apocalyptic half human/half lizard archaeologists uncover the ruins of Portland dozens of years from now they will doubtless declare it to be the home of the greatest "bike culture" that the world has ever known. That's why I knew the email was important. So I clicked on it and words filled my screen and I once again thanked the Almighty Lobster on High for the miracle that is the Internet and here are the words that came to me from the Holy City of Portland:

Bike People!

Oh! what a beginning, and Oh! how I groveled in obeisance. Yes, I am a "Bike People!" Speak to me, o Portland! Tell me what I am to do in thy name!

Oregon Manifest is asking designers and custom bike builders to create the Ultimate Modern Utility Bike.

Joy of joys! I knew this day would come! Portland has finally decided to lay waste to the world with a cleansing Flood of Smugness! And as the Lord bid Noah to build an ark, the Oregon Manifest bids us build the Ultimate Modern Utility Bike so that only the righteous Bike People survive the deluge.

What's a Utility Bike?

Asked the email rhetorically, and then answered itself:

The bike that fits into and enhances your everyday life seamlessly –

a bike that performs many tasks well, is easy to use, easy to secure, easy to grab and go.

Yea, it's an Ark of Smugness, aboard which you load every kind of "Bike People" two-by-two in order to "portage" them to salvation. Two roadies, two mountain bikers, two randonneurs, and so forth. The recumbent riders will be left to fend for themselves, because they can easily "retrofit" their contraptions into paddle boats.

In your world, what would Ultimate Modern Utility Bike do?
Get you from point B to Point B with little effort?
Haul Groceries and still haul ass?
Perform multiple tasks but still feel fun to ride?

Yes, yes, and yes! Also it would fly, brew coffee, and shoot deadly lasers, all while remaining Laterally Stiff Yet Vertically Compliant. Amen.

We want you to tell us what your idea of the Ultimate Utility Bike is!
We may include your submission in our upcoming Oregon Manifest video broadcast on our website.
Send us a 1-2 minute video of yourself completing the following three sentences:


1. I'm _____________ from _________, ____ and this is my idea of the ultimate utility bike.

Uh, BSNYC/RTMS from Terra Haute, IN.

2. The Ultimate Modern Utility Bikes should....
("take me to work, allow me to shop for weekly groceries, carry my kid, store in my office easily")

...portage stuff, fly, brew coffee and kill.

3. With the Ultimate Utility bike I would....
("get to work, stop off at the library, pick up a few things at the grocery story, then ride over to the next town to visit my friend")

...portage stuff, fly, brew coffee and kill.

WE ALSO INVITE YOU TO DRAW A PICTURE OF YOUR IDEA

Invitation accepted:

:::: Please pass this email on to others that might have something to say! ::::

Obviously, if you're a real-life bikemaker or just have artisanal tendencies and want to submit, contact the Oregon Manifest, but you're unlikely to outdo my Flying Death Ark.

Also, when submitting your plans, make sure to denote all measurements in cubits.

Still, we cyclists are a fickle bunch, and no sooner have we obtained our "dream" bike than we have listed it for sale on the Serotta forums in order to fund a newer, better, dreamier dream bike built by someone with more cachet and a longer wait list. I'm certainly no exception, and only moments after designing my Flying Death Ark I visited Craigslist and found something even better:

Urban Assault Vehicle electric bike (Williamsburg )
Date: 2011-01-02, 10:12AM EST
Reply to: [deleted]

This is not one of those cheap production electric bikes . It bad ass NYC transportation. Once your ride a bike like this you never ride the NYC transit again. Come check it out! 1000 watts of power @48volts will take you 30mph for 30 miles on one charge no problem Features : Cruise Control , Rock Shox full suspension, shimano gears, front and rear disk brakes, topeak defender2 fenders, Led Headlight and rear Flasher everything is brand new ready to roll. more info upon request. Please feel free to email with any ?s Building more bikes as we speak. Thanks for looking!~ electric bike~electric bicycle

Yes, it's a Bikesdirect dual-suspension mountain bike with an electric motor on it, and yes, "it bad ass NYC transportation." Obviously this bike boasts many fine features, but the standout is the "cruise control" which is what's going to allow you to plow through snowdrifts and throngs of pedestrians in crosswalks like a speeding subway train through a gigantic Portland Cream from Voodoo Doughnuts. From the looks of the picture on the left it even has some sort of rear rack-mounted missile launcher, and it's certainly not a bike for the sorts of dainty people who use pain-relieving unguents, as in this ad that was forwarded to me by a reader:

Amazingly, this ad has actually been running in recent print editions of VeloNews, and is not a relic from some defunct periodical from the previous century as the rider depicted in it might suggest:

Clearly, the marketing department at Perform Pain Reliever have made a bold and daring choice by foregoing the typical model astride a "cutting-edge" bicycle featuring the usual crabon fribé frippery and instead choosing a time-traveling t-shirt-wearing retro-Fred from the planet Tridork, and for this we should applaud them--even if the typical VeloNews reader is probably soiling his Assos bib shorts in horror.

Speaking of crabon, it would seem as though professional cyclocrossing person Joachim Parbo recently fell for the old "let me see your bike real quick" flim-flam:

Fortunately, the bike was recovered, though it did sustain some damage:

The white Leopard letters on the prototype frame had been scraped off. The same happened to the stickers on the Zipp wheels. Unfortunately the Zipp rear wheel had 2 spokes ripped out from what looked like a nasty chain suck between the spokes and the cassette. The SRAM deraileur was also bent.

Clearly the thief was in the process of replacing the logos on the wheels with the message "All You Haters Suck My Balls," and the bent rear derailleur is a telltale sign that he was also attempting a hasty fixed-gear conversion. As for the broken spokes, since the wheels were Zipps, that falls under the category of ordinary wear and tear.

In any case, had the bicycle not been recovered, it probably would have ultimately met some horrible fate as a polo bike, which for a racing bicycle is the equivalent of forced prostitution. Speaking of bike polo, another reader informs me that there is currently a raging controversy surrounding an unfortunate poloist who received some unwanted "hot head:"

Evidently, as is common among children in playgrounds, there was an argument over who was allowed to play and hitting (and, in this case, beverage-hurling) ensued:

So this past friday new years eve 2010 we here in Lexington played some last of the year polo and had a great day. That was until Jared or "the great zombo" on the internet, got mad that he did not get thrown into a game and threw a full, just opened four loko at me hitting me in the FACE! As I walked up to him to ask him what the hell his problem was with my hands down, he sucker punches me in the side of the face. At this point I was in shock that a "friend" was willing to get so mad that he did not get into a game. So the third and final punch he threw at me I turned at the last min and took it to the ear. I was pissed!!! I walked up to him being held back by 2 of the 20 witness's and he head butts me breaking my nose. Keep in mind I NEVER threw a punch I did not raise my hands like I was even going to, and the only thing I did was jokingly throw his mallet over the fence 10 feet away. Not knowing how mad he really was!?!? HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR

What should happen when it's gone to far? Legal?

I'd like to take this opportunity to publicly decry this craven act of violence, and Jared (otherwise known as "The Great Zombo", apparently) should be ashamed of himself--even more than the ordinary amount of shame one should feel for playing bike polo at all, which is saying a lot. Everybody knows that there's an unwritten law among the heavily tattooed hipsters who do things like ride track bikes without brakes on the street, participate in alleycats and play bike polo, and it is this: "We're supposed to look tough, not be tough!" Once somebody betrays this implicit understanding by actually striking a blow, the entire image falls apart, and that can't be allowed to happen. It's the same as the nuclear balance of power, wherein human survival depends on a bunch of countries being allowed to have nuclear weapons without ever actually launching them. As far as what should happen to "The Great Zombo," his actions impart on him the status of a rogue state like North Korea, so I'd recommend starting with sanctions (no access to the local track bike boutique, food co-op, or art school educated tattoo artist), gauge the effectiveness of these sanctions, and go from there.

Also, it should go without saying that he should not be allowed to play polo on a cargo bike:

Though arguably nobody should be allowed to play polo on a cargo bike. Cargo bikes are for stuff-portaging, flying, brewing coffee, and killing.

Happy Nü Year: What Little Difference a Year Makes

(Sad commentary on the state of affairs, spotted by Esteemed Commenter DaddoOne)

Well, it's 2011, and three days into the new year I'm already making good on my resolution, which is to generally be more like "whatever" about stuff. I made this resolution after realizing that most of the world's problems are caused by people being way too into stuff (religion, making money, sending that urgent text message while driving at the expense of others' safety), and concluding that if people generally cared less about stuff that the world would be a better place. If we managed to rid society of qualities such as ambition, vitality, and passion and all became a bunch of slow-moving, passive creatures, then surely our world would be transformed into a paradise. It would be like Portland, only without the undercurrent of smugness.

Speaking of slow-moving, passive creatures, I undertook a trip over the holidays that fortuitously had me leaving New York the day before the Crazy Epic Blizzard of Death of 2010 struck and returning just as the Crazy Epic Airport Delays of Death of 2010 finally resolved themselves. I won't say where I went because nobody really cares where I go anyway, but I will say that when I pulled my rental car over and relieved myself by the side of the highway I scared the crap out of a bunch of cows:

(Thousands of bovines flee in terror as I urinate.)

I'd always just assumed these slow-moving, passive creatures had no survival instincts whatsoever so I was rather surprised when they ran. I was also surprised that the resulting stampede laid waste to most of the state, resulting in innumerable injuries and incalculable property damage, making this one of the most destructive "pee-pees" I've ever taken.

I was not surprised, however, to find upon returning to New York like four days after the snow storm that the city was still in chaos. This is because the typical New Yorker's reaction to the first sign of snow is to panic, jump into their cars in order to drive two blocks to purchase bottled water and duct tape, and promptly crash into each other. Immediately upon arriving home, I hopped on my Smugness Flotilla to survey the damage and there were still abandoned vehicles all over Ocean Parkway:

There had to be at least ten in this one block stretch alone, some of which were even in the turning lanes:

Granted, I was away scaring cows with my urine during the actual storm, so I don't know if the drivers left their cars here or if the city towed them from elsewhere and left them there for "safe keeping," but with most streets perfectly passable by that point you'd think people might have come and collected them by then. The drivers can't all have perished in the storm.

Then again, maybe they did, because a few blocks away emergency vehicles still weren't getting anywhere. This was because, even though the streets were clear, the double-parkers combined with the snow piles resulted in lots of congestion. My outdated "smartphone" coupled with my poor photography skills do not yield very revealing pictures, but here are a bunch of vehicles with sirens ablaze unable to get anywhere, blocked as they were by urgent energy drink deliveries:

The fire engine behind me did not move for the entire time it took me to pick up my "epic" post-flight homecoming take-out lunch order.

Even as recently as last night, one week after The Crazy Epic Horrible Death Snowing Blizzard of Aught-Ten, cars were still parked perpendicular to the curb, despite abundant parking and the fact that it's been like 50 degrees for days:

So if you're not from New York and your impression of the city from The Movies is that the people who live here are hardy, no-nonsense urbanites, I can assure you that this is not the case and that we are in fact mostly a bunch of simpering "wussbags" unable to take even the most basic responsibility for our own motor vehicles.

But of course this guy already knew that:

Really, having weathered many a New York snowstorm, the only thing that surprises me about the aftermath of the Deathtastic New York City Hell Blizzard of Nineteen Hundred Two Thousand Ten is that David Byrne hasn't started gloating yet:

He doesn't have a car, you know.

And on the positive side, the uncollected trash is breaking people's falls:

Note the jumper was a "despondent" man, making this an unusual twist on the typical "exuberant" man suicide story to which we've all, sadly, become accustomed.

Speaking of being despondent in New York City, sometimes all you need to help you through those rough times is a source of inspiration. Consider this tunnel-dwelling homeless person and her motivational decor:

("Following Lance Armstrong's shining example got me where I am today.")

Also, it's difficult to tell by the photo, but she's even reading a copy of Chris Carmichael's seminal work, "The Time-Crunched Cyclist:"

It's a tome best enjoyed by candlelight in a dark tunnel, even if you don't ride and have plenty of time on your hands.

But not everybody finds inspiration in the sporting accomplishments of others, and for these people sometimes joining a good old-fashioned club is the best way to find motivation. And what club could be more motivating and old-fashioned than a Bianchi Pista Club? Fortunately, a reader who claims his name is "Julian" informs me that someone is starting just such an organization:

Bianchi Pista ... Club .......Members wanted (Upper West Side)
Date: 2011-01-02, 7:46PM EST
Reply to: [deleted]

hi everyone ...
I am looking to creative a bianchi pista club .... for only pista owners only ....... Cool and creative ways to swap parts meet other and enjoin
riding around town as a group from time to time . Members would only be a pista owner only . Chances for wining new parts and other stuff ....
Looking for about 20 members only ... trying to keep it simple and fun but creative and funky .......

Please email me with bike pictures and contact .........
thanks ...
siempre ...
this is my pista ... way to much to list ........


Once the "noob chariot" of choice, the humble Bianchi Pista has clearly attained "retro" status in 2011, though performing a trackstand on a slab of concrete against an urban backdrop while accompanied by a whippet is indisputably timeless.

For my part though, I'm going to forego the Bianchi Pista Club and instead join the Siblinghood of the Brokenago by purchasing this frame, which was forwarded to me by another reader:

It's laterally stiff and vertically fissiparous.

Whatever.