The More Things Change...Part II: True Greatness

“The bicycle superseded by the automobile, the automobile compelling attention to the necessity for good roads, and with good roads throughout the country we may again see the bicycle coming into its own. Who will make the first move among the big manufacturers?”

—Louis M. Fisher, Former Secretary of the Associated Cycle Clubs of New York, in the New York Times on March 3, 1912

Dear Mr. Fisher,

Almost 97 years after you asked that question, I am pleased to report to you that the bicycle has indeed finally come into its own. And as for big manufacturers, the one responsible for this is, of course, the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company. Behold, the World's Greatest Madone:



It has rear-view mirrors to remind us from whence we came, and a rack to carry all that we've learned from history forward into the future. It also has a compact crank, Zipp 808 tubular wheels, and toe clips and straps. (Actually, scratch that--the rider has ditched the pesky straps.) It's steered by mountain bike bars with a gentle rise, and secured by a flimsy combination cable lock. I'm not sure what that piece of paper hanging of the bars is, but it's probably either a speech that will unify the entire cycling world in eternal siblinghood, or else the turn sheet for some charity ride.

My faith in cycling and humanity, considerably shaken after exploring the Times archives, has been restored.

Sincerely,

--BSNYC

Moxie: Who Needs It?

On Tuesday I ran a number of cycling-related websites through the Genderanalyzer, which yielded some interesting if not entirely accurate results. Of the sites analyzed, the most masculine by a huge margin was Lance Armstrong's Twitter, at 93%. Well, I recently discovered that another cycling-related site is sitting right on Armstrong's wheel in the masculinity department, coming in at a resounding 89%:

I'm not sure what kind of e-pheromones Son of Zone Baby is exuding to elicit such a positive result (besides the fact it has "Son" in the title of course), but if you're looking to read something that will put some hair on your chest, go check it out.

Meanwhile, the blog you're currently reading is holding fast at 52% female, which while not entirely accurate is at least consistent. I for one value consistency over accuracy, which it so happens is the same rationale used by many devotees of friction-shifting. Besides, regardless of whether you're running/rocking male or female reproductive organs, when it comes to being successful the real determining factor is moxie. And like this blog, moxie is gender-neutral. Take this messenger-versus-model race, forwarded to me by a reader:


There's a long tradition of pointless, apples-and-oranges, mismatched exhibition races in our culture. Jesse Owens raced against a horse, Mario Cipollini raced against a horse (though rumors he subsequently bedded it are unsubstantiated), the TV show "Top Gear" pitted a Ford Mustang against a horse, and even I raced against a Smart (but only because no horses were available, probably because the ASPCA got wind of the Mario Cipollini incident). However, I was immediately skeptical about this particular mismatched exhibition race when I heard the messenger, Al Busano, claim that he delivers over a thousand packages a week.

This is a bold claim to say the least. Even if Busano works ten hours a day, seven days a week, he'd need to deliver over 140 packages a day in order to meet that number. That's 14 packages an hour, or roughly one package every four minutes. Either: 1) Busano is omnipresent; 2) Busano delivers mostly interoffice correspondence; or 3) Busano is inflating his number. In any case, even if he is rounding up by a factor of ten, he should have no trouble beating a fashion model on a skateboard, right?

...even if her "secret weapon" is apparently the ability to employ her legs in conjunction with her labia while riding a skateboard, and even if she's wearing the notoriously arresting Sue Ellen Mishky blazer-with-a-bra-for-a-top combo that made Kramer crash his car into a pole in that "Seinfeld" episode:
Well, if you were pulling for the mendacious messenger to defeat the skateboarding model rocking a prehensile vagina, I'm sorry to say you were disappointed. Personally, I suspect the contest was rigged, and that the people at Style.com somehow stacked the odds in favor of the model. If they'd really wanted a close race, they'd have made her race against Mario Cipollini, though had they done that there's a good chance the competitors never would have gotten on their respective forms of wheeled conveyance and the video would have taken a decidedly pornographic turn. Or else, they could have used one of the female messengers from this recent New York Times article. My personal choice would have been German emigree Carmen Burkhart, described in the article as "a slight, tight-bodied 43-year-old who smokes and drinks only hot coffee for hydration, even in the summer:"

(Carmen Burkhart: weltschmerz in motion)

In a match-up like that, the smart money would clearly be on the wiry dehydrated nicotine-and-caffeine-addled Teuton over the ditz on the skateboard. Not only that, but the video would have been way more entertaining to watch.

But competing in phony races isn't the only thing that takes moxie. It also takes moxie to maintain your bicycle's drivetrain. And since moxie seems to be a non-renewable resource in our culture, the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company is finally bringing to the mass market a drivetrain that requires no moxie whatsoever in order to maintain:

The carbon fiber belt drive bicycle drivetrain is nothing new--we've already seen it from Spot--but Trek is wisely marketing it to the commuter rather than the racer (though Travis Brown has been running and/or rocking one too). While I've been critical of Trek in the past, I have to say that I'm not only in favor of the belt drive commuter bicycle, but moreover I feel as though Trek is doing me a personal favor with it. I've voiced my irritation over the fact that so many commuters are unable to lubricate their drivetrains before, so a bicycle that will run quietly without lubrication is nothing less than a godsend to me. I can only hope that the lubricant-impaired take to this system en masse and I never get stuck behind another squeaky, rusty, non-shifting drivetrain ever again. After all, Trek's fellow Wisconsinites Harley Davidson have already successfully shown the world that when convenience and low maintenance are more important than performance a belt drive is the way to go. (They've also convinced an entire generation of dentists and lawyers to ride around on overpriced flatulent motorcycles while wearing leather chaps, but that's something else.) And the rest of us don't even have to give up our chains--apart from the metaphorical chains that bind us to our irritating noisy-biked cousins, that is.

Not only that, but while killing off the noisy chain the Great Trek Bicycle Making Company may have unwittingly dealt the coup de grâce to the already-withering colored deep-V trend as well, since the new belt-drive District comes with high-profile rims of orange:

No way colored deep-Vs can survive this with their street cred intact. I never thought I'd say this, but thank you, Trek. Thank you.

Yoink! Another Fixed-Gear Vanished

Some of you may remember the plight of Michael Green of Bikeblog, who fell victim to the old "let me see your bike real quick" fixed-gear flim-flam.  At the time, Michael received a bit of a drubbing from the sorts of people who fancy themselves to be street-smart and who wrongly think such a thing could never happen to them.  As I said at the time, the fact is that bike theft can happen to anybody.  Even a celebrity.

Indeed, I recently learned that a certain Tour de France champion has been separated from his fixed-gear bicycle.  Here is his story in his own words:

I'm in shock.  Someone just stole my track bike and I let them do it.  After winning the Tour de France three times (and then virtually winning it like five more times, which makes eight Tour wins total, which is the best ever) I fell victim to a scam.  I rode my bike to an upscale cheese shop which gives you a 25% discount on Gouda if you ride a bike when I was approached by a caucasian man of about 5'10" wearing a yellow Nike shirt, a pair of cutoff jean-shorts, and a giant foam novelty cowboy hat.  He was fit.  He asked me where he could get a bike like mine and wanted to lift it to see how heavy it was.  He said he was a runner but that he wanted to try cycling.  I knew I should SAY NO! but for some dumb ass reason I let him try it.  He got on the bike and rode around the block three times and on the third pass he popped a wheelie and waved that giant foam novelty cowboy hat in the air and shouted "Yeee-haw!!!" real loud and rode away.  He was a fast bike rider for a runner.  WHY WHY WHY did I let down my guard.

Here is a picture of my bike.  It has my name on the downtube and the seat tube and everything.  I feel like a total schmuck.  Please help me get it back.  Any information will help.

Sure, I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking he brought this on himself.  You're also probably thinking the bike must be long gone by now, and that it's almost certainly been resprayed and changed around.  Well, it's definitely been resprayed, but I think I've got a bead on it.  Look what I just saw on Fixedgeargallery:

Yo Dennis,

Peep my bitchin' new fixie.  It's a TREK.  More matte black than a Black guy named Matt.  Moustache bars so moustachey I got Sam Elliott clockin' my sh*t.  Look out for me tearing it up on the streets of Austin.  She runs a brake right now but I plan to lose that like GL lost the Tour in '91.

Peace,

Mellow Johnny

(Picture from Bikeradar)

Now I don't know who this guy is, but judging by his sobriquet and his penchant for street vernacular I'm pretty sure he's some kind of weed dealer.  I'm also pretty sure that's our victim's frame under that new finish.  Though if it is it looks like "Johnny" may have at least ground off the braze-ons.

If you'll allow me to get personal for a moment, I'd just like to share that while I may have a reputation for being bitter and cantankerous, I'm actually a very compassionate person.  So after Michael Green's bike was stolen I passed many a sleepless night.  (By "sleepless" I mean I was only able to sleep eight hours as opposed to my usual ten and half.)  Indeed, I often found myself tossing and turning for minutes on end, haunted by the image of that green Aerospoke cowering in the corner of some thieves' den as it longed for its daddy, like Mel Gibson's son in the movie "Ransom."  To my knowledge, Michael never did get his bike back, and I'm tortured by that fact to this very day.

But now I have a chance for redemption.  This time, there are leads.  And while I can't promise our theft victim his bike back, I can promise him one thing.  I'll look into it when I get around to it.  Maybe.

By the way, please note that there will be no post tomorrow (Friday) as I will be engaged in matters of import, but I will report back duly on Monday, May 12th.

Color Me Nauseous: Cycling's Worst Paint Jobs

As internet galleries prove, there's simply no limit to how ugly you can make a bike. All it takes is some patience, a few cans of spraypaint, and a sense of childhood neglect that has festered into adulthood and sublimated itself into a tendency to make desperate bids for attention. Fortunately, though, over the years various manufacturers have made our jobs much easier by providing "pre-uglified" bikes direct from the factory or workshop. Of course, the cosmos of bicycle ugliness is simply too vast and gag-inducingly majestic to capture here. But here are just a few manufacturers who had the temerity to don a blindfold, pick up the ugly stick, and swing at the pinata of good taste with reckless abandon:

Klein

Before Klein was subsumed by the Great Trek Bicycle Making Corporation, they were responsible for some of the most magnificently hideous paint jobs the cycling world had ever seen. This pre-Trek beauty is a stunning example. It literally brings tears to my eyes, though I don't know if that's because of the bright colors, nostalgia for times gone by, or the fact that the thing may still be exuding paint fumes to this day that are strong enough to be smelled through a computer monitor. In any case, the last time I saw something like this I bought it from a truck and it melted all down my arm. Magnifique, Gary, magnifique.

Landshark

Klein may have been a giant in the world of ugly bikes, but Landshark is ugly bikes. John Slawta's paint jobs articulate an ugliness that other bikes can only allude to. Spraypainting wet cardboard in a damp room only begins to convey the types of designs we're talking about here. Dropping the rotting corpse of Jerry Garcia from a skyscraper and then photographing the results comes a bit closer. The above photo is a typical, but by no means exceptional, example. I believe the color scheme is called "Motion Sickness."

Oh, yeah, they're not just for dentists and lawyers either. They look great as fixed-gears too:

Colnago

Ah, yes, the maestro of mutilation: Colnago. Every other maker of ugly bikes owes this storied marque a debt of gratitude. Colnago's paint schemes are the very embodiment of professional cycling, in that both are essentially big knots of revolting colors competing with each-other for your attention. And certainly no instrument--no paintbrush, chisel, nor hunk of charcoal--has been responsible for more works of fine art than the airbrush, which Colnago wields with stunning effect. In fact, in the art world the very word "airbrush" is synonymous with exquisite taste. If the technology had existed at the time, Michelangelo would almost certainly have painted the Sistine Chapel with one. Finally, each frame's top tube is graced with that delightfully whimsical image of a cyclist as seen from above. Bent over his handlebars, his shoulders hunched with effort, it kind of looks like he's vomiting.

Trek

The Great Trek Bicycle Making Corporation knows everything, and one of the things they know is that ugly is not for everyone. That's why they introduced "Project One." I don't know whether or not this still exists, but in any case it allowed customers to express their individuality by choosing from a limited number of ghastly designs, including flames and lightning bolts. Essentially it catered to the same dubious tastes that drive 50 year-old suburban accountants to buy custom Harleys and wear leather vests and skull-and-crossbone bandanas. Project One lacks the ebullient ugliness of those early Kleins, the organic ugliness of the Landsharks, and the rococo ugliness of the Colnagos. Instead, it's robotic, mass-produced ugliness--which in a soul-crushing way makes it the ugliest of all.

Cannondale

For a mainstream bicycle manufacturer, Cannondale's paint schemes tend to be relatively sedate. Until they get in bed with an Italian superstar. That's when the hair comes down, the gloves come off, and the bikes get disgusting. An Italian, an airbrush, and a few bottles of vino is a recipe for il disastro col formaggio. In all fairness, you were only able to actually buy one of these bikes below, but highlights over the years include:

The Fabio Sacchi Tiger Freak Bike;

The Gilberto Simoni Spider-dork Bike;

and of course the Limited Edition Tricolore Dork-tacular. (As ridden by Damiano Cunego and...Gilberto Simoni.)

Orbea

Lastly, I'd like to give Orbea honorable mention. While lower-key than some, this Basque collective is nonetheless an inspiring example of teamwork in the service of ugliness. They may lack the audacity of some of the other manufacturers I mentioned, but they make up for it by blending their euro-flash paint schemes with bulging, swollen, and distended tubing. The result is a kind of three-dimensional ugliness you don't really get with the other manufacturers--the vileness really pops. In fact, in some way I think Orbea represent the ugliness of the future. And like the best ugly bikes, they will stand the ugly test of time by only growing more offensive and dated as time goes on.