Racing Towards Anxiety: Sowing the Seeds of Doubt

This past weekend, the Bicycle Film Festival took place in New York City. If you're unfamiliar with the Bicycle Film Festival, it's kind of like Sundance, only for the sorts of people who wear cycling caps as casual wear and ride brakeless bicycles with perpetually empty CETMA racks. I did not attend the festival, even though (or, more accurately, because) it featured films like that "Racing Towards Red Hook" video, the preview of which is so sublimely absurd as to warrant a second viewing:

expresso: racing towards red hook (trailer) from Jessica Scott on Vimeo.

In addition to the infamous "This ain't no hipster shit" quote, the "Racing Towards Red Hook" preview also features other rhinestones of wisdom, such as this:

"So many people have, like, this type of bike it makes sense to create some sort of sporting event around it."

I couldn't agree more. Given the popularity of fixed-gears it really is about time somebody invented some kind of competition in which these bicycles can be utilized. I think the ideal venue for a bicycle with a single gear ratio and no brakes would be some sort of flat, closed bicycle track, and instead of running lights and getting signatures on manifests or popping wheelies they could simply ride around and around it to see who's the fastest. It could be called a "velo-drome"--"velo" for bike, and "drome" for, well, drome--and if someone were to build some sort of prototype I have no doubt it would attract many fixed-gear cyclists with trendy moustaches:

Sure, it will be underground to begin with, but who knows? Maybe in 50 or 100 years racing bicycles inside of a "velo-drome" could become an olympic sport! I know it seems far-fetched, but hey, we can dream. And it will all have started thanks to the boundless vision of the guy in the Cinelli hat.

(Frank Warren: Non-Hipster and Inventor of the Velodrome)

It's hard to blame him for his exuberance though. After all, who among us has not discovered some new pleasure, and become so excited about it that we mistake this excitement for discovery? I know that was my experience when I tasted chocolate-dipped haggis for the first time. "Have you tried this?!?," I shouted exuberantly as I attempted to foist forkfuls of the stuff onto complete strangers. "It's amazing!" Little did I know artisanal chocolate-dipped haggis trucks have been all the rage in Brooklyn for like months now, and in my enthusiasm I came off as a total foodie "noob." Now, I know better, so I munch my chocolate-dipped haggis while wearing the appropriately fashionable expression of world-weary detachment.

Speaking of bicycle racing, that was one of the things I opted to do this past weekend instead of going to the Cycling Caps and Shants Film Festival. Even though I harbor no illusions as to my ability and enter races with little ambition beyond enjoying myself and not falling down, I'm usually excited before a race. I'm also always just a tiny bit nervous, mostly because I'm anticipating a state of anaerobic distress. Anyway, this was a mountain bike race, and as I stood there resting on my handlebars and awaiting the mad scramble for the holeshot, one of my fellow riders pointed to my arm and asked, "Has that been there from birth?" He was referring to a mole.

"I dunno," I replied.

"Well, you should really get it checked out," he pronounced in a dire tone.

One of my favorite things about bike racing is that, for the duration of the race, you set your troubles aside and focus only on riding your bike. Well, so much for that. Riding my bike was now the last thing on my mind, since apparently I had skin cancer. Basically, his words had the same excitement-quelling effect as slipping on a Larry King mask just before lovemaking. Then, my mind immediately shot to my recent return from Gothenburg, Sweden, when my driver had uttered these chilling words to me:

"You will die very soon. Mark my words. You will die very soon."

Sweet merciful Lob! It now became clear that he had put a curse on me and manifest a malignant mole upon my person.

A few rows ahead of me, a rider was wearing some sort of yellow LiveStrong helmet and glasses combo, and I resolved to push my way up to him and rub my moley arm all over his head and face in the hopes that his accessories might serve as a curative. Unfortunately, before I could get to him the race began, and like pretty much everybody else who was there that day he rode away from me rather easily.

Needless to say, I continued to reflect on this throughout the race, and at one point it occurred to me that perhaps it had been my fellow rider's plan to "psyche me out" all along by effectively transforming my race into a real-life "Seinfeld" episode. Furthermore, maybe I wasn't his only victim. For all I know, he could had been going from rider to rider and sowing seeds of doubt and fear in each one of them. "Hmmm, do you have a family history of glaucoma?," he might have asked as he peered into someone's eyes. "Did you just go to the bathroom again? Frequent urination can be a sign of adult onset diabetes."

In any case, if his intention was to undermine me he needn't have bothered, since in a race you can always count on me to undermine myself--and as usual, I did a commendable job of it. As for the mole, I suppose it couldn't hurt to go to the doctor, though I think I'll just take a picture of it and put it up on Twitter or Facebook instead. [Is my mole dangerous? If "yes," click the "Like" button!] Yes, here in HMO-merica, we're big believers in the power of amateur Internet diagnosis-by-consensus. Stuff like hands-on treatment and "universal health care" is for Canadians and communists.

Anyway, given my poor performance, I briefly flirted with retiring from cycling and taking up something less tiring. But what? For a moment, I considered origami:

But then I realized that the "origami culture" is probably just as cliquey and judgmental as the "bike culture." Consider the following:

Highlights of the exhibition included folded-paper versions of an Academy Award statuette, a miniature Buddha and a 15-foot Tyrannosaurus rex constructed by a group of students from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. All were completed without the aid of scissors or glue.

“We’re purists,” said Wendy Weiss, 44, of Holyoke, Mass.

Clearly scissors and glue are the brakes and derailleurs of the crafting world, and just like fixed-gear riders the scissorless-and-glueless set are way too self-righteous about not using them.

I suppose I could always sandbag as a Cat 6 racer, but frankly I don't think I could afford the equipment. As we saw last week, Cat 6-style flat-bar road bikes are becoming very exotic, and via the Twitter I've learned that cyclocross bikes are following suit:

2010 Stevens Team Cyclocross Bike (santa clara)
Date: 2011-06-24, 3:04PM PDT
Reply to: [deleted]

2010 52 cm Stevens Team Cyclocross Bike

* Sram Red Components
* Custom built Velocity wheels with Challenge Parigi-Roubaix 700x28 Tires
* Ritchie WCS Flat bars, Seat Post and Stem
* Fizik Arione Saddle
* Speedplay Stainless Zero pedals

8 months old and ridden less than 1000 miles

Over 4500.00 invested with receipts.

Great straight bar road bike. World class Cyclocross frame . Just a tad too big for me.
Best fit probably 5'7"-5'10". Weighs just under 17 LBS. Outstanding frame and components for the serious biker.

Serious inquires please call Joe @ 408-621-[deleted]


Good thing he kept the receipts. I hear shame is tax deductible now.

Wednesday on Tuesday: The System Shall Set You Free

Everybody's familiar with the expression, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." This is certainly true when it comes to money managers like Martin J. Erzinger, whose luxury automobile alone renders him nearly impervious to justice. All it takes is a simple phone call from a Pizza Hut parking lot for Mercedes roadside assistance to dispatch a forensics team that removes all traces of your victim's DNA from the vehicle's bumper and transfers it to a nearby Hyundai. Not only that, but a Mercedes will even wake you up if you fall asleep at the wheel, though this feature either doesn't work very well, or Erzinger is lying, or, even more likely, both:

Court records say prosecutors expressed skepticism to Milo at a suggestion by Erzinger's defense attorneys that Erzinger might have unknowingly suffered from sleep apnea, and that might have made him caused him to fall asleep at the wheel and hit Milo.

In any event, since we clearly can't beat Erzinger, we must join him instead, and as I was perusing this profile of him I had an idea:

While Erzinger isn't a very good driver, I have no doubt he's a talented money manager, which is why he manages $1 billion and has a "minimum net worth requirement" of $5 million:

Assets Under Management: $1 billion

Minimum Fee for Initial Meeting: None required

Minimum Net Worth Requirement: $5 million

Assuming there are 500,000 people who are very angry about this whole hit-and-run thing, all we'd have to do is put up $10 apiece, form some entity called something like "All You Haters Suck My Balls Enterprises," and then hire Erzinger to manage it for us. With his financial aplomb, I'm sure in five or ten years we'd have a vast fortune--certainly enough that buying a gaundy vehicle such as a Cadillac Escalade or a Lincoln Navigator would barely register as a blip on our financial statements.

Once we'd secured an appropriate corporate vehicle, then a duly appointed "All You Haters Suck My Balls Enterprises" officer would simply fire it up and then "accidentally" (but not-quite-fatally) run into Erzinger while he was playing golf.

While this may seem like primitive "eye for an eye" justice, the truth is it's far from it. The DA has dropped felony charges against Erzinger because such a charge would "have some pretty serious job implications" for him and "justice in this case includes restitution and the ability to pay it." (In other words, money is apparently justice, and the DA claims he wants Erzinger to be able to keep his job so he can pay Milo as much "justice" as possible.) Clearly then, the DA would also drop any felony charges against "All You Haters Suck My Balls Enterprises" for the same reason, reducing them to a misdemeanor count of "using an inappropriate driver on the green." This would insure that we would be able to pay restitution to Erzinger--who would consequently be further bolstered in his ability to pay restitution to Milo. In the end, everybody wins (though some of them will also permanently limp), and best of all it only cost us ten bucks to run some guy down.

Maybe the legal system isn't so broken after all.

Of course, the big question is this: "What should we do with all the extra money?" Certainly even after legal fees and restitution to the victim and repairs to the AYHSMBE Lincoln Navigator there would still be many millions of dollars left over. Well, ITTET, I would recommend being prudent and investing that money in gold and/or Chris King headsets. Sure, it's not as much fun as cashing out and buying a ski house in Vail where you can kill and maim with impunity, but at the very least I'm sure AYHSMBE would be able to pay its shareholders handsome quarterly dividends in the form of wheels of finest horsehair:

Now that's a horse of a different colorway. When I wrote about Cyclocross 2.0 awhile back, I knew things were getting expensive, but even I never dreamed that cyclocross would involve this sort of exotica or that horsehair would become the next crabon weave--though I don't mean to be a "neigh"sayer, since I'm sure these wheels will look absolutely fabulous with your Rapha mink stole-and-muff set.

Actually, what I'd like to know is what happens to the rest of the equine, and I can't help wondering if horse steaks will soon be sizzling on those Coleman PerfectFlows. If so, I'm sure the more serious Cyclocross 2.0ers will be fretting about how much they can have. Fortunately, the good people at BikeRadar have also provided this handy conversion chart:

Calorie Counting

To get your portion sizes right you need to know how many calories you’re using.

1 Determine your base metabolic rate (BMR). Men: BMR = 66 + (6.23 x weight in lb) + (12.7 x height in inches) – (6.8 x age in years). Women: BMR = 655 + (4.35 x weight in lb) + (4.7 x height in inches) – (4.7 x age in years).

2 Multiply your BMR by the level of activity closest to what you do. Sedentary (little or no exercise): BMR x 1.2. Lightly active (light exercise/sports 1-3 days a week): BMR x 1.375. Moderately active (moderate exercise/ sports 3-5 days a week): BMR x 1.55. Very active (hard exercise/sports 6-7 days a week): BMR x 1.725. Extra active (very hard exercise/sports every day and physical job): BMR x 1.9.

I have no idea what any of that means.

Speaking of training advice, I was stunned when a reader emailed me recently and asked me for some--though it wasn't exactly the sort of thing you'd ask Chris Carmichael:

I'm a first year racer and after racing road this past summer I'm now on to cross. I'm not the fastest, but overall I'm pretty pleased with my results, but now I'm looking to improve some of my finishes. To do this I have gotten more consistent with my training, and I've seemed to feel a Little improvement. I do have one area of my fitness I'm not so sure of. I'm pretty much a daily pot smoker, not a full on stoner but a couple bowls a day without any tobacco of any kind. Does this significantly affect my VO2 max? Pot can't be as bad as tobacco right? How much would quiting affect my fitness (even though I know I won't)?

Now, this may peg me as a "square" or "narc," but I'd say that being "a daily pot smoker" who consumes a "couple bowls a day" is pretty much the definition of "full on stoner." Is it possible to smoke more pot? Yes. Does smoking a couple bowls a day every day mean you're pretty much stoned all the time anyway? Also yes.

This is not to say I begrudge his lifestyle choice. Similarly, I do not begrudge the lifestyle choice of the anal-retentive bike racer, either. However, they're also mutually exclusive, and for most people there's not much to grapple with since choosing one tends to conveniently eliminate the other. You may have heard the old saying: "Strong, light, cheap: pick two." Similarly, when it comes to the "Wednesday Weed" and bike racing, a good rule of thumb is: "Smoking pot all day, winning bike races: pick one." The truth is that it's almost impossible to successfully be two totally different things at once--this sweet bicycle which was forwarded to me by a reader being a notable exception:

Rat Bike - $40 (Sun Prairie)
Date: 2010-11-08, 10:48AM CST
Reply to: [deleted]

Get some street cred with this bad boy. Tribute to old school west coast motorcycles. Still has functional shifters, 3 rings up front and 7 in back. Front shock. Rear brakes. If you see this bike chained up it is for your protection, not to keep it from being stolen! $40 obo.

In any case, I explained to the aspiring racer that it really doesn't matter anyway, since he's consuming a banned substance on a daily basis so any results he gets are technically invalid, which I think like totally blew his mind.

Of course, while the "Wednesday Weed" may not produce bike racing results, it can produce some florid poetry, which I suspect may be the case here:

You have a weak handshake. - w4m - 206 (The impossible address. )
Date: 2010-11-09, 1:15AM EST

I stood in your garden,
I was wearing your t-shirt with no pants on,
my legs exposed to that below average summer night.
I could see the goosebumps running down the length of your forearms,
you seemed to have something on your mind.

I saw your eyes shifting towards my legs,
bruised and cut from a recent bike accident.
"C'est quoi ça?"
You pointed at some specific scars,
still fresh and raw.

"C'est rien!"
You put your shoulder around me,
I started crying.
"Pourquoi?"
You asked while trying to see my tears.

Those scars are still raw,
even months after not spending time with you.
You were everything in a man I could want,
but,
I wasn't your woman.

Speaking of pantslessness and of horsehair (as I was earlier), it remains to be seen whether the trend will trickle down to the "fixie" scene, though one reader has forwarded me the following Craigslist post which indicates that they may be more interested in clear coats made from a shot of ejaculate:

Fixed gear wheelset, Origin8 SS bike, carbon fiber cranks, track bars (Neenah)
Date: 2010-11-07, 10:14AM CST
Reply to: [deleted]

I have a set of EighthInch Tessa wheels that are ready to bolt on and go. Comes with matching EighthInch cog(16T) and lockring already installed and CST white tires and tubes. The hubs and spokes are black and non-machined gold rims. These wheels are spotless and spin true. Normally these run $140 and then $35 for the cog and lockring and $40 for the tubes and tires. All for a whooping $150!

EighthInch gold trackbars. These are brand new never been mounted. I was going to strip the gold anodizing but I just want chrome track bars instead. $20

FSA Pro Team Issue carbon crankset with bottom bracket. These had the decals removed and have some scratches and whatnot from everyday riding but are still in great working condition. With a light sanding and a shot of come clear coat these would look brand new. The bottom bracket is sealed bearing 68mm English threaded(ISO) Shimano unit purchased this past summer from Cranked. $75

Origin8 Cutler single speed bike. I used this as my around town bike with my son. This normally runs $240 from Cranked. 700c wheelset with a freewheel. $150

I've got more stuff like cranks, road bars, aero brake levers, frames...etc. Everything is located in Neenah. Trades welcomed also.

If you ever walk into one of those track bike boutiques and an employee says, "Here, let me clear coat that for you," you should probably refuse.

Spending Power: Who's #1?

Since the dawn of cycling, humankind has sought to spend as much money on equipment as possible. In the 19th century, hale wheelmen would covet laterally stiff and vertically enormous handcrafted pennyfarthing frames, quasi-legal narcotic-infused brain tonics, and wheels shod in the finest Amazonian rubbers. Decades later, in the era of Fausto Coppi, early proto-Freds would don shorts with mink chamoises and glue tires spun from the silk of debutantes' undergarments to their ultra-low spoke count 36-hole rims using glues made from the hooves of Thoroughbreds. This tradition of gross expenditure continues today, as Category 5 investment bankers quaff quasi-legal energy tonics, straddle $10,000 worth of crabon fribé, and monitor their meager power output with exotic electronic equipment that would shame a Stanford University earthquake researcher.

All of this raises an important question: "What is the most expensive cycling discipline today?" This query is especially crucial if you work for a bicycle company, since it's vital to know which component of the cycling demographic is most desperate to spend too much money on crap that will either break for be "obsolete" by season's end. For many years, the common wisdom was that the biggest spenders were roadies, who would actually pay for snake oil if you told them it was good for lubricating ceramic bearings. Then came mountain bikers and their lust for vulgar Kleins and machined anodized purple boutique componentry. In turn, both of these groups were then eclipsed by the triathletes, who thought nothing of paying thousands of dollars for a slight aerodynamic advantage while at the same time employing a stem riser and riding in sneakers.

However, today a new cycling super-consumer has emerged. He (or she) possess the weight weenie-ism of the roadie, the dirt-oriented geekery of the mountain biker, and the grossly disproportionate dollar-per-mile ratio of the triathlete. This rider, of course, is the so-called "cyclocross" racer, and if someone willing to spend $1,500 on crabon wheels, $150 on a single knobby tire, and 5 hours driving in order to ride a bike for 45 minutes did not actually exist then the bicycle industry would have had to invent him.

At this point you may be saying to yourself: "Wait, I've heard of this 'cyclo-cross.' Isn't that the one where people hang out and drink beer, and where I don't need to buy a new bike because it's OK to race my vulgar Klein as long as I remove the purple bar ends? What's so expensive about that?" Well, there's nothing at all expensive about that--except the "cyclo-cross" of yestermonth bears about as much resemblance to "CX 2.0" as the pennyfarthing does to the latest 11-speed crabon fribé Fred-conveyor. While old-timey cyclocross was about barriers, CX 2.0 is about barriers to entry, as you can see from this list of "What to bring to a cyclocross race" from VeloNews:

As I read this, I had to keep checking the headline to make sure it was actually about cyclocross and that I hadn't been rerouted to some sort of instructional on producing your own music festival. Do you really need to bring a Coleman PerfectFlow to a cyclocross race so you can engage in the time-honored activity of "cooking your own brats?" Is that French press really necessary? Can you get by without the Crazy Legs Leisure Chairs and the Deluxe Bike Cubes and "The Stick" self-massage tool and the stationary trainer and the boutique embrocations with organic ingredients that would probably also taste delicious on your "brats?" Apparently, the answer to all these questions is: "Yes, you do need to bring enough equipment and furniture to reproduce the interior of a San Francisco coffee shop and/or survive 'off the grid' for six months so you can race in the rain for 45 minutes." And don't forget that "Lion of Flanders" flag, since this whole "flambullient" production hinges on maintaining the delusion that you're from another country.

Of course, while following this guide may successfully transform you into the biggest Lion of Flanders-waving, cowbell-ringing, "brat"-grilling cyclocross dork of all time, it says nothing about the actual bicycle you'll need in order to compete in the increasingly competitive arena that is CX 2.0. "Back in the day" (by which in this context I mean last season) pretty much any steel or aluminum bike with cantilever studs was sufficient, but now only the laterally stiff and vertically marketed ride of crabon will do:

By the way, if $2,500 for a cyclocross "module" doesn't sound like a lot of money to you, keep in mind you'll need two of these since it's essential to have an identical bike in the pit. And obviously once you've built up your two "modules" you'll need multiple sets of mud-shedding crabon wheels glued with tires for every conceivable weather condition. As for how to transport two bicycles, multiple pairs of wheels, a Coleman PerfectFlow, a French press, cowbells, nationalist symbols, coffee beans, "brats," chairs, embrocations, a trainer, massage equipment, and presumably your own body, the article doesn't address that either, but something like this is a good choice:

Just be sure to opt for race venues that are conveniently situated near harbors with adequate stevedoring facilities.

Granted, it's also possible that this list is simply a "red herring," and that it's actually intended to frighten away the "hipsters" who have been threatening to infiltrate cyclocross racing for the past couple of years. No "hipster" could ever amass, care for, and transport this amount of equipment. Even the ones who form the mobile "hipster" strike forces known as "bands" can barely manage to keep a couple of guitar amps working or keep a dilapidated van from getting towed, which makes CX 2.0 as portrayed in the VeloNews piece out of the question.

I'd argue that it's unnecessary to try to frighten "hipsters" away from cyclocross, since at this point it's pretty clear to me that they're only interested in the bicycles--which is why they get excited about idiotic bikes like this. However, there are still those who worry that a few of them might actually attempt to ride their cyclocross bikes (or cyclocross-themed track bikes) in a race. This could also be why the VeloNews article contains a sensational warning about caustic mud:

Dried mud from racing is not the same as a spa treatment and can start to burn or sting as it dries.

Yes, who hasn't headed out on a warm-up lap, only to wind up writhing on the ground in pain and screaming, "It burns, it burns!!!"? Indeed, expensive "performance skincare" is your only line of defense--especially if you tend to race near ports with stevedoring facilities, where groundwater toxicity can be unusually high.

Meanwhile, a reader has alerted me to the fact that, in the KLM airlines in-flight magazine, the Dutch are congratulating themselves for taking over the sidewalks of New York City with their giant bicycles:

For those of you unfamiliar with New York City, it should come as no surprise to you to learn that the Dutch bike riders pictured above are "salmoning" wantonly. Note also that the story identifies someone named "Chris Clement" as a typical example of "the new breed of New York commuter." Apparently before buying a Dutch bike, Clement commuted by car from Brooklyn to Manhattan. "There wasn't any alternative," he explains. "The subway was overcrowded and inconvenient, and dangerous roads were choked with trucks and irate motorists."

Actually, there are transportation alternatives for gentrified dandies who find the subway distasteful, and they're called "Vespas." However, increasingly the Vespa customer base appears to be defecting to Dutch bikes:

Clement’s biking epiphany hasn’t stopped at abandoning his luxury German sedan though. In June, he upgraded his ride to a Batavus stadsfiets, a traditional, two-wheel Dutch bicycle, purchased from Rolling Orange, a newly opened Brooklyn bike shop owned by Dutchman Ad Hereijgers.

Hereijgers intends Rolling Orange, with its array of stadsfiets and bakfiets (bikes with cargo crates) to be much more than a simple cycle store. “I want to bring Dutch biking culture to New York,” he says. “I want to encourage New Yorkers to switch gears, slow down and enjoy their travel time. I call it the Slow Revolution.”

Evidently, whether it's cyclocross or Dutch bikes, the average American is only able to partake in cycling if he can spend a lot of money and pretend to be from another country while he does it. However, not all riders are adopting Low Country affectations--some remain proudly American, like the seller of this bicycle, which I learned about on the Tweeter:

2010 Trek 1.5 - $850 (Azusa, CA)

Date: 2010-10-04, 6:08PM PDT

Reply to: [deleted]

This bike has been a great friend to me but I am joining the Marine Corps and need to sell it. I know that it would be a great shame for this bike to sit in storage while I am away.

1.5 Aluminum Frame

56cm

All Bontrager Racing Extras (wheels, tires, handle bar assembly)

18 speed.

Step-up Braking System

Also Including Bontrager Bike Pump, Kryptonite Bike Lock, Giro Helmet and Specialized Gloves.

This bike is more than just a bike, its mechanical poetry.

Riding this bike is like discovering an extinct species still living in some enchanted forest, or making friends with a T-Rex. It is like walking on the moon while eating a funnel cake- like falling asleep on a bed of cotton candy, like slow dancing with Joe DiMaggio.

The frame was forged in the fires of Mt. Doom, and it's handlebars pulled from the horns of a raging bull.

This bike is guaranteed to make you physically capable of doing things that Superman himself dreams of. With its help, you will fly into the night like a white-hot bullet of justice and awesome. This bike will make you three times as likely to win a date with Scarlet Johannson, and twice as likely to make you mayor of your city.

To pass up this work of glory is like not finishing the all-you-can-eat hot wings challenge when you have only one to go.

So please, don't miss this opportunity of a lifetime. It will make you a better person, a better friend, and a better lover.

So help me God.

Best of all, because it's a road bike, you won't need any culinary equipment.

Putting it Out There: BRAs, Belts, and Cockies

In today's bewilderingly fast-paced world of electronic bicycle shifting systems, artisanal axes, and "Face Books," it can sometimes be edifying to reflect on simpler times. These were the days when people made an honest living off of the land and from their own labors, when neighbor greeted neighbor with a hearty "Halloah!" instead of a scowl and a foot to the groin, and when the noble art of cheese sculpting was still "keeping it real" and hadn't sold out to corporate advertising. The halcyon time to which I am referring, of course, was the spring of 2010.

I realize some of you had not even been born yet, but to me it seems as though the spring of 2010 was just yesterday--or, at most, four months ago. This is because it is the era in which my book, "Bike Snob" (available wherever books are sold or lent) was first published as a follow-up to my poorly-selling first book, an illustrated volume entitled "Lactose Tolerance: Great Civil Rights Leaders Rendered in Cheese." Reviewers panned my cheese book as being "soft and malleable," but "Bike Snob" fared considerably better. Not only did it go on to reach #7 on the Independent Stoop Sale And Sidewalk Vendors Bestseller List (right between a used copy of the February 3rd, 1997 issue of "Sports Illustrated" and a broken toaster), but it also became an Oprah pick. Granted, it was never actually selected for Oprah Winfrey's famous book club, but I do have it on good authority that someone named Oprah somewhere actually bought a copy.

Anyway, all of this gratuitous backstory is by way of explaining that, upon publication of "Bike Snob," I announced I would undergo a grueling series of BRAs (or Book-Related Appearances). The response was overwhelmingly negative, and I was repeatedly subject to the following questions:

1) So why aren't you coming to my town?

2) I thought you were supposed to be anonymous. Why don't you just stay the fuck home?

and

3) Why can't anybody make a decent toaster anymore?

Well, I'm pleased to announce that I've at least been addressing Question #1, and my ruthless publisher Chronicle Books is adding additional BRAs even as my helper monkey, Vito, types this. More details will follow, but as of now I'll be visiting Landry's bike shop in Boston, MA on October 1st; Cyclesport bike shop in Park Ridge, NJ on October 23rd; and the Philly Bike Expo in Philadelphia, PA on October 30th. I'll update you on the particulars as soon as I have them, but in the meantime you may or may not want to crayon those dates in your Just Miniature Dachshunds 2010 wall calendar:Speaking of my book, it does come with stickers (in fact, for tax purposes I'm technically selling stickers with some bonus text), and a reader in St. Louis informs me that he has actually placed one on his saddle:

While I'm deeply flattered, I can't say I necessarily approve, and I also hereby indemnify myself from any injuries caused by direct taintal application. (Though you can feel free to sue my publisher or, just for fun, Specialized bicycles.)

Having dispensed with all that, I'm now pleased to share some other publicity-themed information, which is that Gates Carbon Drive Systems is now fielding a belt-driven singlespeed cyclocross team:

Among other events, the Gates team will target the Singlespeed Cyclocross World Championships in Seattle, where they will presumably go up against one JT Fountain. As Stevil Kinevil of All Hail the Black Market pointed out some time ago, Fountain (who won the singlespeed race at Cyclocross National last year) believes that singlespeed cyclocross needs to "be taken more seriously," which is a bit like saying Cedric the Entertainer should stop with all the tomfoolery and apply his mind to economics. Hopefully the advent of a carbon fiber belt drive-equipped singlespeed squad helps Fountain's dream comes true. Then, perhaps USA Cycling will finally take over the SSCXWC and the riders will compete in $1,000 technical lingerie made by Pearl Izumi.

In any case, Gates claims this is "the first belt-drive singlespeed cyclocross squad in the universe," though I'm not so sure this is actually true. Just ask Stephen Hawking, who says that pretty much anything could be lurking out there:

Says Hawking:

'To my mathematical brain, the numbers alone make thinking about aliens perfectly rational. The real challenge is to work out what aliens might actually be like."

Therefore, if the universe is so vast that the notion of hostile aliens is "perfectly rational," then it's also "perfectly rational" to assume there might be another belt-drive singlespeed team out there too. Moreover, who's to say they don't have designs on the SSCXWC? Certainly if this turns out to be the case and aliens on singlespeed 'cross bikes with belt drives do start attacking Earth, I would almost certainly lodge a class-action lawsuit against Gates for false advertising, and I'd probably also sue both my own publisher and Specialized bicycles for good measure, submitting a bloody sticker from my book as evidence. For his part, with everybody distracted, Hawking would probably take advantage of the situation by "running" a Gates belt drive on his wheelchair and totally crushing the field at the 2010 SSCXWC.

Of course, it's also entirely possible that cycling aliens could attack Earth on another type of bicycle besides a belt-drive 'cross bike. For example, they could show up on "bikes that close the gap between long-travel, all-mountain mashers and hill-climb savvy mile-munchers:"


If this happens, we could all be in trouble, because the only bicycle that could possibly stand up to a "hill-climb savvy mile-muncher" would be a "crotchally-savvy carpet-muncher," and to my knowledge no mainstream company is selling those yet. (Though I hear that in Portland carpet-munching bikes are already even more popular than artisanal porteur bikes.)

Or, the aliens could take the form of "sartorially inclined" dandies riding "vintage" road bikes with so-called "bum bars," as forwarded to me by a reader:

Getting your wardrobe right means absolutely nothing when your bicycle is so wrong.

Speaking of maladjusted cockpits, not too long ago I offhandedly mentioned the Cockpit of the Year Award (otherwise known as the "Cockie"), and while no such formal competition technically exists I admit that I have been playing around with a prototype "Cockie" statuette:

(Needs bar ends)

I've also been alerted to a number of stunning cockpits recently, such as this US Open-themed one, forwarded by a reader:

(It's the cockpit that launched a thousand "fuzzy balls" jokes.)

Of course, the bar end is to the cockpit "curator" what oil paint is to the painter of portraits or sugar is to the confectioner--it is the very medium that makes their art possible. And so transcendent is this one that it doesn't even need a saddle:

Perhaps he's in the process of "retrofitting" a tennis racket.

Here's another interpretation of the "homemade grips" theme, sent by another reader:

I just hope those aren't condoms.

But creative cockpits aren't just about about vertical bar ends and judicious application of prophylactics--some also involve actual fabrication, such as this one forwarded by yet another reader and presumably well-suited to extraterrestrial hands:

The pursuit of the perfect cockpit is limited only by sanity.

BSNYC Scrapbook: What I Did on my Autumn Vacation

Yesterday, the Tour of the Gila began in New Mexico, and defending champion Levi "Letle Viride" Leipheimer is already in the leader's jersey. The Tour of the Gila is noteworthy in that top American pros like Leipheimer, Lance Armstrong, and David Zabriskie like to form "ad hoc" teams and ostensibly use the race to fine-tune their form. However, it's readily apparent to even the most casual observer why they really participate, as evidenced by this photo which was pointed out to me by a reader:

When you're based in Europe eating pasta and muesli day after day you find yourself getting homesick for hamburgers and milkshakes. Similarly, when you're constantly getting kissed by spindly European podium girls you find yourself longing for more substantial American fare. So, you head to New Mexico, sandbag, and enjoy the view of the sandbags from the top step. I'm sure if you asked Leipheimer he'd deny it, but his line of sight begs to differ:

(Leipheimer revels in both victory and ample stateside serving sizes.)

Speaking of traveling abroad, last fall I had the opportunity to travel outside of the United States of America by visiting Portland, Oregon. As you already know, I wrote an article for "Outside" magazine about my trip, but there's just something cold, impersonal, and glossy about magazines (at least the non-pornographic ones). Plus, seeing the article in print made me nostalgic. So, since I think of us all as family by now, I thought we could all gather around the coffee table and take a look at some snapshots. Of course, if you hate family (or coffee tables) I won't hold that against you and you're free to visit more interesting corners of the Internet, but for the rest of you who are wondering what Portland looks like in real life (inasmuch as "real life" can exist in a place like Portland) I hope you'll squeeze onto the couch, grab a handful of Ruffles® (I bought Ruffles®), and join me.

When I go anywhere, the first thing I need to know is, "Will there be Porta-Pottys?" Austin had them, and fortunately so did Portland. Here are a pair of them outside the Oregon Manifest Handmade Bike Show:

Relatively unmolested by crime, the people of Portland are free to ride around on all sorts of exotic wheeled contrivances, as you can see above. I know they are unmolested by crime, because every time I withdrew my chain lock in order to lock up the Ironic Orange Julius Bike a bystander would comment on it as though they'd never seen its like before. This happened without fail, whether the person was a porteur bike "palper" outside the bike show or a quasi-homeless guy towing a trailer with a Magna. Yes, in Portland you can just leave Rivendells sitting unattended and locked with a combination of dental floss and goodwill:

Then again, this being Portland, perhaps no thief would deign to steal a bike without bar tape.

Here's the inside of the bike show, where even non-bike dorks came to admire the local handiwork:

The cargo bike is an essential member of any Portlander's stable, since it allows them to help people move by bike, which is part of the "symbiosis of smugness" which holds their society together. I'm not sure what the people in this photo are saying, but I'm guessing the guy in the hat is asking the exhibitor: "I'm thinking of starting a human-powered organically grown fair trade pet food home delivery business. Would this be an appropriate bicycle for me?"

"Yes, it certainly would--though I should warn you that 'Coffee 4 Pets' is already doing something similar. Have you thought of delivering environmentally friendly toilet tissue?"

Also, it took a bit longer than I thought (roughly two hours after my plane landed) but I did finally see someone wearing the hoodie/flannel/elbow pad combination:

This is also known as the "Oregon Tuxedo."

Proportionally speaking, there seemed to be far fewer "tarck" bikes in Portland than in New York City, since the emphasis in Portland seemed to be more on functionality. However, I did see some impressive "fixie" specimens:

Spoke cards aside, that is perhaps the most product placement I've ever seen on a front wheel. I think when you've got more component manufacturer stickers on your bike than your bike has actual components you may have gone too far.

Another thing I noticed is that, in Portland, the saddle is the bicycle equivalent of the automotive rear view mirror in that it serves as a place to hang baby shoes:

Even when Portlanders are away from their bicycles they make sure to let everybody know they ride them:

And they do ride bicycles in Portland. Here's the rack outside of the Whole Foods, where I stopped to pick up some cockles:

Yes, that's another Rivendell (with wooden fenders to boot), which people apparently even use to ride to the store here. I don't think I've ever seen two Rivendells in a single week in New York City, let alone in the space of a day or two, and I've certainly never seen one locked up outside. (Then again, never having encountered a Rivendell, a New York City thief would probably wilt in the face of all that pretension, drop his bolt cutters, and simply run away.) If I ever were to see more than one Rivendell in a day in New York I would just assume some kind of beard convention was in town.

Here are the people who were kind enough to let me join them for bike polo:

(I'm standing behind the camera with the pathetic "Can I play too?" expression which I often wore in my youth.)

Here's me riding a bicycle with a top tube pad for the first time in my life (BMX bikes excluded):

I'll spare you my expression, which is akin to that of a kosher vegan being force-fed pork rinds.

Here's Forest Park, the official slogan of which is "Forest Park: It's Fern-Tastic!"

As a cycling New Yorker, perhaps the most attractive thing to me about Portland was the proximity to a place where you can enjoy car-free climbs, hear gravel under your tires, and urinate in ferns. (I had to urinate all the time due to the richness of the local coffee and beer.)

Not all bikes in Portland are designed for mixed terrain; some are simply built to haul irony, leopard skin, and pirate supplies:


"Where the hell are those pirate supplies?" asks an impatient tall-biker:


Ah yes, freaky forms of transportation abound in Portland. Here's someone riding an athletic field painter:


Some people don't even ride at all; they just stand around looking awesome:


As I mentioned in the article, I also visited the "Bike Shrine" at St. Stephens Episcopal Church. You can see that they spared no expense when it came to signage:

Or art:


If you want a post-nuclear religious-themed painting of your mountain bike, be sure to call Martin Wolfe:

Full of the "spirit" (as well as still more coffee-scented urine), I eventually signed the guest book and moved on...:


...to the Bike Temple, whose headquarters looked creepy in the night:


As much as I loved Forest Park, I can't say that I particularly enjoyed the cold and wet pre-Single Speed Cyclocross World Championships "Ride of Revelry, including feats of strength, daring, endurance, beauty and grandeur:"

This is mostly because I'm a weak and cautious person who lacks stamina and wilts in the face of beauty and grandeur like a delicate plant that's been doused with highly caffeinated urine. Also, I tend to get cranky on rides in which the rollout involves lots of people shouting "Woo-hoo!" as they crash their bikes one by one. And it certainly does take endurance to participate in an Ironic World Championship; in addition to the wet ride consisting of people who were way too excited about canned beer, there was also an ironic debate to decide the host city for 2010:

All of this before the actual race the following day, to which I took the so-called "MAX" train:

In addition to the SSCXWC race, I also participated in the regular Cross Crusade race, and both events were suitably muddy:

As well as muddy:


Here's a spectator dressed as a Venetian blind, which allowed him to fine-tune his irony intake:


Amazingly, though I was filthy by the end of the day, they did not kick me off the MAX on my return trip:

I did flirt with the idea of participating in "Zoobomb" later that evening, though to be perfectly honest the endeavor did not seem in the least bit appealing to me, especially after an exhausting (though thoroughly enjoyable) day of racing. Here's the scene as I approached:


I think it was the sight of the guy in the full-face helmet riding a modified child's bike menacingly around the "Zoobomb pile" that ultimately compelled me to skip the festivity, return to my hidey-hole, and pack my things for the return voyage the next morning:

It was a great trip, though in the end I was a bit homesick and ready to return to the burgers and milkshakes.