Innovation: Hands-Free Driving for Brain-Free Living

Firstly, here's some crazy shit that went down back in Eighteen Hundred Ninety And Six:

That's why I always carry an India rubber bulb syringe filled with condensed ammonia.

It's been about twenty-five years since I've ridden a skateboard, so I'm not sure what kind of grind this is.  It doesn't really match any of the grinds on Wikipedia, so maybe we need a new name for this one, in which case I'd suggest "Retarded Van Grind."  (I'm sure someone's going to get offended by my use of the "R" word, but if you've got a more fitting way to describe what this van did I'd love to hear it.)  Also, I always enjoy looking up the license plates in cases like these, and while the owner of the van still owes $115 for parking in a no-standing zone last month, I don't see any violation listed for parking on top of a protected bike lane:

It could just be that it hasn't been logged into the system yet--or, more likely, the authorities simply administered assistance and a congratulatory high five for the radical Retarded Van Grind and sent him on his way.

(And no, Retarded Van Grind was not a Classics rider from the 1960s--though if we was, obviously it would be pronounced "Van Greeend" with a guttural "G.")

What makes this charmingly British is that the car was a Jaguar and the driver backed away awkwardly, like an embarassed houseguest who's just knocked over a vase:

He had to reverse all the way back down again in a dramatic episode which lasted at least 20 minutes and led to ominous creaking noises from the structure.

Especially British is the description of the incident as "dramatic."  Here in Canada's filthy underpants, a motor-vehicular mishap only qualifies as dramatic if the death toll is in the double digits.  Single-digit death tolls (to say nothing of sleep-inducing incidents in which nobody dies, like this one) are well within the margins of what's considered acceptable collateral damage.  Also, we don't back away gingerly from our mistakes; instead, when things start going awry we just mash down even harder on the gas pedal--unless we have access to a firearm, of course, in which case we just shoot our way out.

Fortunately though, the days of motor vehicle mayhem are nearly at an end, since the cars can now drive themselves:

Happy wanking!  It's impossible to imagine any kind of scenario in which this kind of technology could possibly go wrong, especially when it's made by Lincoln.

Meanwhile, in bicycle product marketing news, I received a press release from Fizik (or f'i"z*k:, as their name is technically rendered), informing me that they're now in the cockpit business:

This is great news, because if you've been shopping for road bike handlebars recently you know there are only about four million bends and styles to choose from:

(Make it stop!!!)

By the way, in searching for random images of handlebars I came across this incredible cockpit:

If the Ergons won't come to Fred then Fred must hike to the summit of Mount Kludge.

Or something.

In any case, clearly Fizik saw a hole in the market, and then they decided to ignore it and sell handlebars instead--though theirs are apparently different because they're forged from the power of French mediocrity:

AG2R-LA MONDIALE will be testing the new cockpit system in the world’s most demanding races, supplying the type of feedback that has been the mainstay of the development of fi’zi:k’s exceptional products to date. 

And here's one of them playing with his cockpit:

(Did you know that, according to G**gle Translate, the French for "foffing off" is "foffing hors?")

He's going to be very happy to hear about that self-driving Lincoln.

Speaking of new products nobody needs, how about yet another folding bike to compete with the Bromptons and the Swifts and the roughly four billion models from Dahon and all the rest of them?  Well, naturally there's one on Kickstarter, though it has an impressive pedigree in that it's designed by the guy who invented Rollerblades:

If anybody's qualified to make you look like a circus clown, it's the guy who invented Rollerblades:

And while I'm not sure what's new or compelling about this design compared to all the other folding bikes out there, I suppose you could always buy two NexiBikes and strap them to your feet:

Actually, I suspect the NexiBike is a cunning ploy by the father of Rollerblades to seduce cyclists and lure them over to the perverse world of wearing shoes with wheels on them.  

Lastly, here's a very happy Canadian:

I think the camera angle is meant to simulate the view of the guy in the bike shop who sold her all that stuff.

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