Classless Society: Pinko is the New Black

Last night, at Sid's Bikes, in Manhattan (which is an island with tall buildings all over it that is a suburb of New Jersey), The Bicycling Magazine Bike Repair Challenge, Sponsored by Park Tool "went down." In it, nine brave contestants strove to complete feats of bicycle maintenance such as changing an inner tube as quickly as possible in order to win an array of fabulous prizes, and as they did so they looked remarkably like the "upperclass twits" trying to unhook the bras in that Monty Python skit:

Of all the contestants, one fearless fumbler reigned supreme--Roy DeGuzman, Port Jefferson resident and self-admitted BMXer, shown here with his booty (as well as his prizes):

My job during the contest was to heckle and ridicule the contestants (or at least that's what I decided my job was, for all I know Bicycling may only have invited me in the hope that I'd help clean up afterwards). However, I must admit I felt guilty as I did this, since I doubt I could have out-repaired even the slowest among them (and I can assure you, some of the contestants were extremely if not preternaturally slow). This is partly because I'm generally inept, and partly because I view flat tires not as inconveniences but rather as opportunities--a chance to let that field ride away from me, or to be late to an appointment, or to just generally loiter on a street corner while a deflated butyl tube dangles from my hand and a string of drool hangs from my chin.

Speaking of ignorance, as an American I am of course completely ignorant when it comes to other countryways that are not my own, and what I do know about them is informed mostly by movies, television shows, and broad stereotypes. For example, I know that Japan is a land with a strong work ethic where everyone is a martial arts expert; I know that every man in Ireland is either one of three (3) Daniel Day-Lewis characters or else a quirky artistic type in the manner of Elvis Costello; and I know from listening to people like Michael Moore that Canada is a milder version of the United States where nothing bad ever happens, where free health care falls from the trees, and where the only violence the gentle people know is in the form of hockey fights. Also, their chief exports are maple syrup and comedians.

Of course, like any American, I also grow sad and disillusioned when I learn that one of these faraway lands of make-believe isn't really exactly like I thought it was, since like my fellow countrymen I've been raised with the notion that the world should conform to my whimsical fantasies. This is why the recent news out of Toronto has shaken my belief system to its very core. First they elected that mayor who thinks that when people die on bikes its their own fault, and then they got Colonel Sanders's more "flambullient" cousin to say even more crazy bike stuff about bikes at the swearing-in ceremony:

When I first read these comments and saw that they were attributed to Don Cherry, I wondered why the noted trumpet player and stepfather of the pop singer Neneh Cherry was so against bicycles, and more importantly, how he had channeled these sentiments from beyond the grave. Then I realized this was actually a different Don Cherry, and that he's an ice hockey commentator and some kind of "Canadian personality" (which strikes me as being something of an oxymoron, since I thought if you had a personality in Canada the government exiled you to the United States, hence the whole comedian export thing). In any case, Toronto has now catapulted itself to the top of my list of cities I'm afraid to visit, trumping even Reykjavic, which I had also resolved never to visit because I'm deathly afraid of elves.

Speaking of Nordic countries, yesterday I mentioned those Ikea holiday gift bikes, and it would seem that they are already making their way onto eBay:

As well as Craigslist:

ITTET, it's worth noting that receiving any sort of holiday bonus is impressive, even if it's a really crappy bike--especially when you consider (as I understand it, at least) that in addition to the bike Ikea employees also received a decent-sized cash bonus, with which they can presumably buy better bikes, or else "curate" fantabulous cockpits for the Ikea bikes they already own--ideally using pieces of Ikea furniture. (I'd give almost anything to see an Ikea bike with a handlebar-mounted Fredrik 11-piece workstation accessory set, and perhaps a Snöig lamp for good measure.) Still, this bicycle defaces my image of Sweden in the same way that Don Cherry has dispelled my illusion of Canada--though I also think two very valuable things have come from this:

1) Many cyclists have often wondered what the world's cheapest new bike would look like, and now we know because Ikea has finally commissioned it;

2) The socio-political implications of the Ikea bike have plunged the smug populace of Portland into a spiral of infighting and self-doubt.

Ever since I first saw the story on BikePortland I've been following the comments, and judging from the controversy it has generated this innocent bicycle may very well be the thing that finally tears their "bike culture" asunder. Some Portlanders are disgusted by the poor quality of the bike; others are disgusted with them for being disgusted; and still others are accusing Ikea of being "classist" and exploiting their workers by photographing them with cheap bicycles. It's a symphony of self-importance as delightful as anything ever composed by the likes of Mozart or Tchaikovsky.

Then again, it doesn't take too much to send Portanders into a tizzy. Even this ridiculous Chris King espresso tamper stirred up a little concerto of conceit:

Comments on that one seem to range from (to paraphrase) "You've got to be kidding me," to "How dare you not understand the tribulations of the working barista forced to handle inferior equipment?"

Personally, I'm still waiting for a decent Ikea bike "disembodied hand" shot, though I did receive from a very astute reader a photo from a Cyclingnews review of the Cannondale CarbTastic SuperX-Whatever-o-Cross in which the bike is being propped up by a disembodied stick:

Incidentally, the accompanying text is:

"The horizontal squish of the chainstays as they meet the bottom bracket shell seems to be a source of flex under pedaling."

In other words, the bottom bracket junction is just not "beefy" enough.

One can only imagine what the reaction in Portland would have been if Ikea had had the temerity to gift its employees with sub-par cyclocross bikes. They probably would have formed a mob and stormed the Ikea corporate headquarters with artisanal Chris King espresso tampers and given those "classist" Swedes the tamping of a lifetime.

Lastly, yesterday I also mentioned the Outlier "six foot scarf," and while I may scoff I'm sure Outlier are on to something big because it's no secret that the "fixerati" love to cover their faces and pretend to be bandits when they ride. Here in New York, this happens as soon as the temperature drops below 65 degrees Fahrenheit, which is "freezing" on the fixed-gear scale. Here's another variation on that theme from San Francisco-based Martin Clothing:

You really need that for those brutal San Francisco Mission District winter nights.

Speaking of things that aren't beefy enough, the Martin model is definitely a candidate for the title of "America Next Top Fixie Model:"

Though not if Outlier have anything to say about it. There are a number of ways to approach the fixed-gear model shoot, and Outlier prefer the "story" approach. In this one, we see the model riding the bike:

And then we see him chasing after the guy who stole it:

Cadence clothing, on the other hand, appeal to fans of the "I'm in fifth grade and I walk to school all by myself" look:
Which is a variation on the non-threatening tough guy "Who you callin' a Nü-Fred?" pose captured by Mission Workshop:


And the "designer hoodlum" look embodied by the gynocentrically-named "Vag-X:"

I wonder how many Portlanders have ever received the message: "Hey, I think I left my Chris King espresso tamper in your VagX last night." Probably more than a few.