I feel real bad about the tattered and decrepit state with which I leave this blog, but alas, the weather is nice (read: sweltering) and the riding has been good of late, so too fucking bad... I raced in that harlem race with the far-too-long-title eight days ago and then a local race at prospect park at the crack of dawn yesterday, after which I rode down to Red Hook with some peeps (no, not the mallow-y kind) on the new track bike, then ran errands until the night time.
I promise to post photos of the new bike just as soon as my photographer comrade gets around to letting me crash his place of work, though I won't let that stop me from enumerating several things I've noticed about riding a true track bike in the city:
- It's extremely dangerous not having brakes.
- It's extremely uncomfortable geometry for rides lasting longer than an hour or so, and considering there's really no way to attach or mount anything to the frame, vital accouterments must be carried on the back.
- Carrying shit on your back is annoying and hot.
- My being hot and annoyed is extremely dangerous to other users of the road.
Of course this is not to say I don't thoroughly enjoy my new ride, it just so happens to now occupy the coveted "most impractical" position in my "stable". Then again, if for you practicality is gleaning compliments from passers-by and attention from "fixie girls" (you're welcome), then that machine is a fucking swiss army knife.
Not to sound like a dick, but its aggravating to have random people stroll up to you and go, "hey man, nice bike" every thirty fucking seconds or have grungy hipsters fondle it while it's locked up somewhere. A buddy of mine rides a real beautiful black and red Bridgestone and has to deal with the same shit constantly.
So I was at this dance-party thingy down in Red Hook Saturday (yeah, it's been a real Red Hook weekend) and I brought the bike in and leaned it in a conspicuous spot so I could keep an eye on it. This guy walks over, grabs the bars and spins the bike up onto the rear wheel like he's about to roll it into an elevator so naturally I fly across the loft and demand he put it down at once.
I'll never understand the need people feel to touch shiny or smooth things... It reminds me of the inane behavior of those antsy people who have to look down the tunnel for the train every ten seconds; it'll come when it comes, just chill out...
Furthermore, aside from being motor-powered, I fail to see how my (expensive, sexy, shiny, babe-scooping, etc...) ride differs from, say, a custom Harley or sports car. Is it that they're afraid of getting the shit kicked out of them by this guy:
who is obviously in tip-top shape from all the ballantine-drinking and harley-riding he does; or getting publicly embarassed by this douche:
screen-capped from that Vin Diesel Movie
who masks his weak character in fineries...?
I don't get it. Especially when you consider people who ride bicycles are likely in far better cardiovascular and muscular shape that either of the above two stereotypes combined. If I had any sense, I would be far more hesitant to go fucking with shit belonging to these legs:
Am I right or am I right?
Anyways, since I rode around yesterday literally from sun-up to sun-down (and then some) I opted to take the 'ol iron horse in today.
I know I have to give myself days off the bike, but I rue my decision within fifteen minutes of being confined in a steel box with hundreds of sweaty and crabby new yorkers. It makes me daydream about peacefully lolling along in the park or the quaint residential streets of my beloved Brooklyn...
Last night I typed "cycling is fun" into the search bar of a popular video hosting website and found these rather interesting videos of what our cycling environment could be like! enjoy!
And then there's this one which neatly explains why the Netherlands has such wonderful cycling infrastructure:
Well, enjoy, and try to make the most of the rest of this muggy monday...
No comments:
Post a Comment