...recently spotted

Strolling about after scarfing down a mediocre bacon cheeseburger, I was witness to two noteworthy salmoning offenses that occurred this afternoon. First, walking south on Broadway, I saw this:


... The rarely seen motorized wheelchair salmon (with mail-basket front crumple zone)! I have to note the extreme irony of this photograph, not only in the form of salmoning (the most egregious of infractions) but as evidenced by the MWCS sporting a New York Knicks Jersey. Perhaps he is unaware that like white men, he can't jump.

Directly after this sighting, I saw three cops tackle a guy foot-salmoning up broadway. They landed in the bike lane, and after getting the guy in handcuffs, proceeded to walk back to their cruiser down the middle of broadway.


At first my Cera-filled heart leapt for joy at the thought of police actually doing something about this summer's salmon infestation, but alas, according to passers-by he was only selling fake purses to tourists. God forbid the police would actually act to stop things that are dangerous at present, but no... the sad truth is that the police, like the gestapo, are here to protect the government, not the people. Obviously since the profits of companies such as LVMH and Gucci are being undermined by immigrant pirates, there is no time to apprehend lesser criminals like those who only put everyone they pass in mortal danger.

Then again, salmon aren't the only ones trying to pick off cyclists (read that article, seriously, it's a hoot).

...on sprinting

After lazily pedaling to work this morning, I fired up the 'ol computer and went to get coffee while the processor warmed up (yeah, it's that crappy of a machine... think of it as the Pinto of personal computing [sorry, I linked the wrong pinto]). Tuning in to watch stage 19 stream online, I was surprised that I nearly missed the action. Lately the stages have been ending around 11:30 - 11:45 am, so I thought I had a while to wait before things started to get interesting.

Not today.

Once the video started flowing, I saw the sprinters getting paced to the front of the field for a showdown to the line, and knew I had missed the drama of todays stage. Fortunately for me, I apparently caught the only interesting or game-changing event of the stage: Mark Cavendish's 5th win!


And of course the podium shot comes next:


Since Contador, Schleck and Armstrong are saving their legs for the climb up Mt. Ventoux tomorrow, none of them (or anyone else in GC contention) did much rank shuffling, leaving the finish to be contested by the sprinters.

While Cavendish took the win today, Thor Hushovd is still in the green jersey and could hang onto it until Paris on Sunday, though he'll have to work hard to keep the man-missle ('dish is from the storied Isle of Man, in addition to being rather missle-like, hence the nickname) away. Considering the ride into Avenue des Champs-Élysées is long, straight, and flat; we could see the 'dish snag the green at the last possible moment.

Sprinting like your life depends seems rather like the 6th ave leg of my morning commute, so that in mind, I present the next installment of the BLRI (whopee!).

After cutting cross-town on 13th street every morning, I turn north onto sixth avenue to head up to Herald sq. to get a coffee from my favorite coffee cart. This stretch of my commute represents the absolute epitome of scary city cycling. If you're not quick on your toes and light on the pedals, the chances you will ever ride this avenue again are slim to none. While many commuters use the bike lane on 6th, I refuse to; it is not only littered with road debris, but is also routinely used as the left-turn lane for taxis who are oblivious to the numerous cyclists they seem to enjoy cutting off.

For that reason, I usually take the leftmost lane for myself so that I can slide to the right of turning cabs should they decide to get in my way. Sometimes this results in me getting stuck between lanes and I have to keep pace with traffic that is simultaneously agressive and fast-moving.

There are also many construction sites along 6th, where the sidewalk is diverted under the incomplete building, causing many people to assume that the bike lane is their new sidewalk, regardless of how dangerous it may be to stroll against traffic that is moving at 30+ mph.


Though there is a silver lining to this mayhem; when you finally manage to blow past a wave of cars, you are rewarded for your masterful sprinting with a wide avenue all to yourself:


This is my paradise. Clear sailing from here on out. Though that doesn't save 6th Avenue from the wrath of the BLRI:


Now it is important that we recognize the purpose of a BLRI rating of 'F'. As it is the Bike Lane Rideability Index, what is being judged here is 6th avenue's pitiful example of sharing the road. The bike lane on 6th might as well not even exist since nobody cares to respect it's demarcations or users. Bits and pieces of broken cars populate EVERY intersection here and flat many an unsuspecting tire. Salmon are unfortunately rather common here, especially between 23rd St. and 30th St.

Earlier this week, as a matter of fact, I was riding along this route (in the evening for a change) and saw a salmon get his back wheel tacoed by a left-turning cab. Usually I will stop and offer assistance to downed cyclists, but in my mind, Salmon are no cyclists at all... They are self-serving idiots who deserve to be hit.

I rode on as the salmon filed a 311 report. He gave me this "won't you please stop to be a witness?" look, but was met with only my stony silence and penetrating glare reserved only for offending bike salmon. Poor cabbie, he even had his blinker on.

Though never fear, despite it's plethora of drawbacks, 6th avenue is a pretty efficient way to get to midtown fast, it definitley gets you in shape trying to out-gun cars and trucks bearing down on you from behind. Plus, being last isn't all bad; as occasionally-worth-reading blog Cycling Tips has noted, the one who comes in last often worked the hardest. Well, thats true in the tour at least.

Ride safe this weekend, and look forward to photos (I swear the camera is coming along this time) from a sure-to-be-epic grind up to Bear Mountain.

...keepin it real Thursdays (late ed.)

Fortunately for this blog, there have been lots of crashes, smashes and bucket kicking of late and I am proud to commence this edition of KIRT with a tribute to the unforgettable Taco Bell bitch (yes, turns out it is a female... who knew?), Gidget the Chihuahua, who is now dead.


I'm sure that while Mexicans the world over are throwing lavish fiestas now that the poster-dog for the bastardization of the Spanish language is dead, Americans are feeling a little bummed about the loss of yet another icon of tasteless advertising.

In the Tour de France this Tuesday past, Jens Voigt crashed at extremely high speed while descending the Col du Petit-Saint-Bernard, resulting in a fractured cheekbone and a concussion. Unfortunately for him, he's being kept at a hospital in Grenoble and will no longer be able to contest the remaining stages of the tour (not that he really had a chance at GC contention, but still). Velonews reports:

Voigt apparently hit a dip on the road to knock his equilibrium off as he rode at the tail of the group of GC riders. His front wheel violently jolted and the veteran German landed hard on his face and chest as speeds topped 70kph.

Ouch... all face. Now, I couldn't help but notice that not only did that look fairly painful, the part of his head 'protected' by his helmet never really came into contact with the pavement; as usual, the skull's fall was cushioned by his chest, face, and shoulders hitting first. Don't believe me? watch it a few more times.

This further supports my opinion that cycling helmets are simply what non-cycling legislators have latched onto as something that 'saves lives' though they are rarely (if ever) the focal point of impacts.

The fearmongering our government (and many others) utilizes in effort to be absolved of wrongdoing has very lasting and negative effects on our society. For example, isn't it strange that when you tell someone about a cycling accident where someone broke their leg (just pulling them out of the air here) the first thing they'll ask is "well, were they wearing a helmet?" as though a styrofoam basket on your head will prevent taxis from merging into you or will somehow make concrete easier on the knees.

Yo Quiero menos restricciónes.

update: real sorry about that video being gone... This always happens with late-breaking video from eurosport, versus, and universal sports. look forward to a curt tirade about copyrighting and other affronts to the freedom of knowledge.

...double doody!

I felt bad about not posting anything yesterday, so for your reading pleasure, I present today's (rarely seen) second post!

I have to say, blogging isn't as easy as it may seem. Writing these posts taxes the limits of my wit and vocabulary; all in an effort to bring you the craftiest diatribes while simultaneously looking busy at 'work'. Like a rider of the pro-peloton, I have to be 'on', or 'in form' to opine both cynically and humorously. Yesterday's crummy weather helped to convince me that I ought to take it as a day off the bike to let my legs rest up. Unfortunately, that always results in me feeling lazy and useless, destroying any ambition I might have had for the day.

Monday, however I did ride in and enjoyed it very much! I have been noticing construction equipment accumulating at the base of the Manhattan Bridge for some time now and have been curious what the fuss is all about. That morning they were moving around plastic jersey barriers which have recently replaced the fencing that forced bridge users to use this strange switchback thing off Forsyth St. instead of riding directly onto the bridge.


I inquired about the planned construction from this fellow (who was none-too pleased that I was snapping photos of him), and he confirmed that indeed the DOT has heard the lamentations of cyclists! No longer will we be forced to strangle our brake-levers coming off the bridge! No longer will we have to negotiate four tight turns and an two traffic lights!

This may also help alleviate cyclist/chinatown tension which, as we can see from this video, is boiling over in places nearby (for the record, that video counts toward tomorrow's KIRT post in the event I can't find anything more shocking, haha).

On Gothamist there is a blurb about a City Room article regarding cycling-under-the-influence and the legality of doing so. It seems as though a group has organized a 'Bike to the Bars' event to be held in concert with Bloomberg's landmark dedication of July as 'Good Beer Month'! They will ride to 10 bars and presumably become drunk on good beer throughout the ride.


Though one should be careful when sporting and ingesting controlled substances, as we learned from noted lush and skiing enthusiast Tom Boonen recently. While not technically illegal in the US, biking under the influence (BUI), I can say from experience, is not a smart thing to do. My previous stance on booze x cycling collabo's was one of indifference, assuming that like salmon, drunk cyclists were a self-thinning population.

That was, of course, until I rode home one night in a cycling x weed x beer collabo and nearly died running a red light on Flatbush ave around midnight. Yeah, it made quite a scene and the driver rightly admonished my poor life-choices. Interestingly, the police cruiser stopped behind me at the light did absolutely nothing about it, I assume because the situation had diffused itself and my ears were already red with embarrassment without their help.

I can assure you I have, from then on, closely monitored my inebriation when a bike has been my ticket home.

Another thing to shy away from is blood doping. While I don't think transcendent experiences are the norm for blood dopers, it sure must be trippy narrowly losing the Giro d'Italia and then possibly being stripped of second-place 'glory'. That's right, you gathered correctly... Danilo Diluca, the man who wore the pink jersey throughout the beginning of the Giro this year, tested positive for EPO, namely: CERA (whatever that is).

Of course, he's vehemently denying these positives. I would too. I think the only thing more damaging to a sporting career than getting caught elevating your rate of oxygen uptake, is having to admit to having Cera in your heart. Though good thing I'm not pro because to tell you the truth, Cera's in my heart too. I loved his befuddlement when Juno told him she was preggers, not to mention his moving portrayal of a love-lorn high schooler in Superbad... man that movie was neat-o!

...Stage 17

Today the tour got considerably more interesting... After much to-do within the Astana squad (Lance and Alberto's team) in the past few days, this mountainous stage through the French Alps was destined to shake up the top ten standings.


Apparently Armstrong and Contador are 'two stallions in the same barn', so to speak, causing Astana's teamwork to falter somewhat, though it seems as though the official declaration of intent from Astana is that Armstrong is prohibited from making any moves to jeopardize Contador's lead, which essentially forces Lance into a domestique's role (which IMO is total fucking bullshit).

Understandably, Lance can do much better than dealing with whiny little brats who want their turn in the sun, so word is that he's, a. going to race the tour next year as well, and b. he's taking the Astana team manager, Johan Buyneel, with him to create a new team that will probably rob Astana of other strong riders like Levi Leipheimer (who, like Bruyneel, is a good buddy of Lance's).

He's going to announce the sponsors of this new team tomorrow, velonews reports, and I can safely surmise that Livestrong and Trek will be among them.

Today's stage saw Armstrong diligently holding back a chase group from catching up to the lead group which consisted of Andreas Kloden, Alberto Contador, and the Schleck brothers. The Schleck brothers had hinted that they would make some moves in the Alps today, and boy did they ever. After repeated attacks by the Schlecks, Contador thought he might try the same, and attacked...


...but of course, the Schlecks weren't going to let him get away with that and quickly caught him.


But what Contador failed to realize is that in attacking the Schlecks, he forced his teammate off the back of the group, leaving himself with a 2-1 disadvantage on the descent to the finish. Oops!


The finish saw Andy Schleck give his older brother the stage victory to position themselves squarely on the podium behind Contador and ahead of Armstrong who is now in fourth place overall.

Well, tommorrows stage is an individual time trial where Lance may make up some time, though likely not enough to do any damage to the yellow jersey. We'll have to wait and see, I guess.

... its all the same

As promised, I rode up to Nyack this weekend (almost twice), though I'm sorry to report that I failed to bring my camera with me, I swear, I had it in the pile of things to be stuffed in my jersey pockets but still managed to leave it behind. To that end, I'll have to appropriate other people's pictures to illustrate my synopsis.

The ride was nice as ever and the roadies were out in full force (which is to be expected), peddling diligently toward this quaint little riverside village near the Jersey border. There was a street fair happening on Broadway as we rode into town, so we dismounted and walked a block or two through it to the Runcible Spoon Bakery.

After scarfing an egg-salad wrap and a ham, cheese, and lettuce sandwich; I reclined in my seat, pondering whether the egg salad might have been better between the slices of rye that the ham and cheese came on and vice-versa.

After my compatriot finished eating we went outside to fill our bidons and free our bikes from the tangle of bikes on the rack that is so generously provided by the cafe for weary travellers and weekend warriors alike. I like this rack because it proves yet another unsurpassed efficiency that bikes have. In the photo linked above, you can't see the whole series of racks, but I assure you they occupy a space no longer than one car would use, and hold no less than 30 bikes during the busiest hours of the day.

Remarking at some of the fancier looking rides, my friend made the obvious but true observation that at a certain point, it all amounts to dick-measuring. Of course this can be said of anything with a subcultural following, though it is glaringly obvious in cycling and comprehension of it comes in waves of disturbing realization.

Earlier, when riding along the Hudson on a beautifully shaded drive up and down the palisades, I took note of a woman riding a Felt TT past us as we stopped to eat some fruit and take in our surroundings. My first reaction was one of awe and excitement, but that quickly reverted to my furrowed brow of cynicism as I pondered the necessity of a $6500.00 wonderbike on these roads. Certainly the only those who intend on racing in time trials or triathlons could feign need for equipment like this, right?

Even so, if one is out to 'train' on rolling hills, why ride a bike that is essentially useless on anything but the flattest, straightest roads? Being in a TT tuck position is inherently unsteady, as I showed in a recent KIRT post, and the nature of the route prevents one from attaining any appreciable speed where a TT bike would begin to show its usefulness. Furthermore, If you are pro, you likely have a multitude of bikes and are hopefully skilled at selecting the right bike for the right terrain.

This aero/carbon obsession also defies the conventional logic regarding training... Wouldn't it be smarter to train on a heavier bike that has few of the aerodynamic or material advantages of a TT rig? In my thinking, if I can grind up a climb on a 25lb bike, shouldn't I be able to conquer that same hill with much greater ease on a 15lb bike? "Training" on a bike like that will only plateau your fitness goals faster, so why do it?

The only reasonable explanation left to us is the ego massage... As I said before, it's all about dick measuring (which is funny, for one because the rider of the Felt was a woman; and two, she was slower than christmas on climbs); the attempt to impress ones peers with an assumed air of skill and mavenhood. Ironically, as with most subcultural trends, this backfires easily, rendering you a poseur, devoid of any credibility from the peers you so hope to impress, highlighting your hypocracy.

This is important because while other sports (skateboarding, for example) suffer from the same gear-obsessed affliction, none are as seemingly oblivious to the rediculousness of it all as cyclists. Bicycles we see today are as much a product of advancing technologies as they are resulting from clever ad campaigns and manufactured jealousy. Suddenly, the branding of your bike preempts your 'cred' amongst other roadies as does the 'colorway' of your handlebar tabe and tires.

I'm of the mind that equipment must be used to its limit to exact maximum efficiency from it. If you buy an ultra-stiff Roubaix with vibration dampers, you should take it to the cobbles in Soho, or go try to win some field sprints at the local criterium races. If you have a bike that has a really big front wheel and a really tiny rear wheel, are you prepared to don tweed knickers and coif your facial hair? Therefore, one must ask themselves when gazing at the motorcycle-priced carbon frames gleaming in your LBS's window display, "can I fully realize the potential of this bike?"

Speaking of realizing potentials, I missed both stages of the tour this weekend since I was busy critiquing people's logical missteps. I came home yesterday, sweaty and tired, only to find that el pistolero won the days stage in the tour.

Diatribes flow easily from my fingertips when writing about people like Alberto Contador, though that is not to say that I don't feel some amount of contrition for talking smack about talents I don't have and things I can't do.

The first of many things that annoy me about contador is the grossly unimaginative victory salute he does whenever he wins, which unfortunately for my aesthetic principles is a lot.


The Finger-gun? honestly? Why would you use the trademarked douche salute on purpose? perhaps it holds some meaning for Al here; it could signify his shooting down of his opponents, but perhaps he's more esoteric than I originally credited him for... Maybe it is intended to be a threatening gesture, meant to strike fear in the hearts of his opponents, lest they get in front of him and be finger-banged from behind. Then again, the most likely explanation is that Contador is one of those whiny people that yearns to be known by some witty nickname like all the other golden-boys of cycling, but noone came up with one for him so he makes up his own and starts telling people to call him that. Sorry dude, it doesn't work that way.

Lastly, Contador's puny bag-o-victory-salutes is contrasted by Mark Cavendish's extensive repertoire of salutes, from which a new one (as reported by BSNYC) will be drawn on the occasion of his 100th career victory (this is all hear-say as I've no hard evidence this is in fact the case, though I hope it is). Being an unbeatable sprinter I can only hope that day is not far off.

Remember, don't be a poseur... ride for your own reasons lest you earn the ire of Bernard Hinault.