tear it down!

G20 Protests in Toronto from Big Picture at Boston.com

While I don't typically condone the use of violence unless all other modes for civil redress of grievances fail, I admit I'm a big fan of black-bloc protest tactics... Not only do they make for stunning photo ops, but it's just about the only way to instill in the administration the same fear of faceless/mindless brutality normal people feel on a day-to-day basis when confronted by the police.

We will realize only too late the terrible fate MNC's will bring down on us. These franchises and chains are like acne, the more you mess with it trying to get it to leave, the more show up. Just stop supporting stores like Home Depot and Wal-Mart... instead spend an extra $0.40 and buy that box of screws from a local mom-n-pop place. 

But please, for the love of all that is good and right in the world, stop burning gasoline! seriously, I know the trite excuse is, "...but I don't have a choice, I live too far!" But the truth of the matter is you did have a choice, you know, like when you decided to move to the 'burbs instead of living in an apartment in the city like all non agrarian people honestly should.

I will never understand this paradox where the population generally agrees that some aspect of their society is really fucked up and needs to be righted - pronto - and yet everyone just keeps on doing the same shit, perpetuating a terrible problem. Is there a name for that? Someone help me out here.

STOP DRIVING YOUR FUCKING CAR

... phot-o-the-day

CMWC 2009 in Tokyo by Tak of New York Bike Dreams.

On an interesting side note before I get back to slaving away on the CAD, those Livestrong bikes Lance rode this past year were up for grabs at a Sotheby's auction recently, and some of them fetched some serious dough... Of course, Damien Hirst's ridiculous pink madone topped the list at $500,000.00

Check the ending prices of the other 6 here.

...keepin it real Thursdays

In keeping with this week's dorkiness-theme, I thought I'd relay this charming little snippet of intrigue that is unfortunately born of some hardcore real-ness.


Remember back in 2003 when space shuttle Columbia disintegrated on reentry (depicted above in all its sparkling horror)? Well, when it happened, lots of pieces of shuttle and crew rained down on Earth's surface as opposed to burning up as most earthly matter would. However, among the items recovered from Columbia's wreckage was, amazingly, the flight diary of an Israeli Astronaut named Ilan Ramon.


I haven't quite figured out how a bunch of paper managed to survive a 100km fall from just beyond the Kármán line at speeds approaching mach 7 (5,328.5 mph). Regardless, a group of astronauts and oragami masters in Japan have decided that based on this evidence, they will fold up about thirty miniature paper planes and release them from the a box on the exterior of the International Space Station, where they will begin a lazy descent back to Earth that is expected to take several months.

The planes will be printed with instructions in several languages requesting that the finder kindly notify Mr. Shinji Suzuki of the University of Tokyo's aerospace engineering program about when and where the plane was found.


I like this "expirement" because unlike the shuttle's violent and abrupt end while attempting to return home, the quiet and slow glide of the paper plane speaks of peace and moderation. Of course it is only possible due to its extreme lightness of construction, though it is a beautiful metaphor for the calmness and composure we should all strive for amid swirling social atmospheres that take us this way and that, unknowing and uncaring of our desired destination.

Speaking of strange things falling from the sky, in Greenpoint recently, two young perigrine falcons were rescued from gangs of pidgeons that were preemptively attacking their future predators. As I've heard, the adorable lil flappers are ok, as one is now at the Animal Medical Center and the other is apparently hiding in a bush near McGorlick park.


It most be something about New York City that fosters a gang mentality amongs the local animal populations. As I had noted a while back, dolphins were seen forming rival pods and established "turf" in our tidal estuaries.

Anywho, fly safe friends...

... the parable of the bicycle

I was reading the blogs this morning and came across a tidbit of public design news that piqued my interest. Apparently Kent Ave is, as of yesterday, beginning a conversion into a northbound-only street for car and truck traffic. the bike lanes on either side of the current, two-way road will be combined into the rarely seen two-way bike lane.


I'm no sociologist or city planner, though I must express my apprehension about this move by the city. Though the multi-directionality will be preserved for bicycles, forcing southbound car and truck traffic through the middle of Hasidim will only serve to further strain the tenuous relationship between Williamsburg's landlords and their hipster tenants.

Wythe and Bedford Avenues are vital thoroughfares from Williamsburg through to Pratt (a known hipster breeding ground), and compose a significant portion of "The Great Hipster Silk Route." And though Hasids have raised a (metaphorical) stink about the immodest behavior of hipsters as they pass through their archaic enclave, they will likely find that a few bicycles is nothing compared to the rumbling delivery trucks and reggaeton-blasting Puerto Rico-mobiles that will be diverted into their lives.

On the topic of being resented for the pitfalls of society, I've officially become a jaded cyclist.

I commute to work in Manhattan from Brooklyn every single day I am able, as you no doubt have noted given the abundance of BLRI posts and road-use rants on this blog. In the eight months that I have unshackled myself from the MTA, my reactions to unfortunate traffic situations have morphed from a burning, holier-than-thou rage to passive irritation, and ultimately into the cold, stony ire of inward disdain that I am now only capable of emoting.

Whether I publicly acknowledged it or not, I've mentally flip flopped on a lot of issues in that time; Salmoning, bike lane abuse, and pedestrian oblivity top the list. I am torn between my desire to admonish idiots and intellectual modesty. I have tried numerous times to follow legal and socially acceptable routes of retribution to little or no avail; and conversely, I've also often done the exact opposite to similar effect.

Thankfully there are articles like this one, wherein commentors tragically berate one another with sweeping accusations and generalizations. I am reminded, while reading the shortsighted irritance, that life, like a bicycle, is composed of lots of different parts that serve a variety of useful functions.

While many people would like to think that they are the bottom brackets of the world (around which all power is revolved and within which it is stabalized), the truth is that most people are just cogs on the rear wheel of life; easily replaceable and fairly cheap.

Then there are those who (however necessary it may be) hinder progress by squeezing those who carry the weight of the machine; the brakes to wheels, if you will.

Still, there are the dork disks and spoke-reflectors of society that enjoy a federally mandated existence regardless of their pointlessness and ineffectiveness.

Lastly (that I can draw an allusion to right now, anyway) is the saddle, the ass sweat-soaked ivory tower upon which the bloated rump of reality sits. These are the rare idealists and thinkers who know no better existence than altruistic pursuits of widespread peace and comfort. Their job is a thankless one, and resenting that fact, are known to imitate the petty tomfooleries of other ignored parts, though to much more dramatic ends: (warning: NSFW)

... colorway me a dork disc

This weekend I didn't do any spectacular or inspiring cycling to which a lengthy and abounding write-up would be appropriate. With the exception of some high-pace laps around Prospect Park, I pedaled softly from place to place with the girls, just enjoying the sunshine and pleasant company.


We spent a while at Outpost, a new-to-me cafe x bar collabo on Fulton St. between Grand and Classon Aves. A few of my close friends frequent this establishment on a regular basis and attested to it's quality. I must say, any place where Brooklyn Lager is rightly considered domestic beer (and $4 a bottle) gets a thumbs up from me... too often I go to bars in this city where it certainly isn't the most expensive beer on tap, but it's strangely priced similarly to big-name imports like Stella, Heineken, and Dos Equis.

Seriously though, they brew that shit in Utica (no, not the storied Utica of ancient-times notariety).


However, many things are produced here in the city, such as "custom" machines by Bespoke Bicycles, above.

I went over to check out this store on Lafayette Ave. while the ladies were recuperating from the temptations of expensive clothing across the street. Though they seemed to have quite a few things for sale and the employees seemed nice enough, I didn't actually see any truly bespoke bikes. sure many were be-spoked with shiny new wheels and they all boasted beautiful paintjobs, but I didn't notice any frames that looked custom welded, nor did the telling stench of ozone greet my nose when I went in (a sure sign that someone is, or has been, welding nearby).

I didn't stick around for long so I can't concievably turn this experience into a LBSR, but I must say that I hope they do well and are a permanent fixture in Fort Greene, and I sincerely hope they do actually build custom frames and can find a market for them.

Unfortunately, for people who can afford them, a 'bespoke' bicycle is often more fashion accessory than serious transportation. I'm not saying that I want everyone to be ascetic and discard all but the most fundamentally useful bicycles, but I would like to see reason and utility inform thier purchases, as opposed to 'colorway' coordination and subcultural branding that dominates the bike scene here.

Hipsterdom started the colorway-ing of bicycles a few years back, branching off from the catch moniker of beautiful simplicity and transforming itself into a grotesque industrial behemoth bent on catering to the weens and wans of the wandering and lost youth of Williamsburg.

I suppose there's nothing wrong with wanting your bicycle to be unique or readily identifiable among others; though as I noted before, the fixie scene here has passed the inflection point whereby the exception has become the norm. Like the be-plaided, be-booted, psuedo-anarchy of punks in the nineties, 'deep-vee' rims and miniature handlebars are now the uniform of the urban (and at times, suburban) hip.

That glimmer of rationality in fixed-gear culture that shunned the unnecessary and embraced the minimal has been subverted by people of all entrepeneur-ways. Like so much else in life that derives it's beauty and appeal from it's purity, it has been raped by the long cock of capitalism and public misunderstanding.

One of the products that I find metaphorically apt here is the oft-overlooked dork disk - the thin metal or plastic disk that comes on all new geared-bicycles regardless of price or intended use. It is called the dork disk because if you maintain your derailleur even a little, you have absolutely no need for it.


Similarly, if your bike lacks the ability to shift gears, the dork disk does nothing for you except provide added wieght and possibly another site for colorway-ing your ride. One would then think that this would be a rare sight, but alas, it is not.


Take the above example from fixed gear gallery; this disk must have been intentionally added. I have circled the offending part in colorway BADA55 and likened it to another popular "dork disk" to elucidate my meaning.

Though this bike hasn't maximized it's colorway potential by using a stock-metal disk, it's safe to assume that this trend will likely yeild lots of 'hard-anodized' dork disks in a multitude of styles. Then again, hipsters are known for palping useless appendages for unknown reasons (like beavertail fenders to presumably keep road grime from soiling their threadbare hanes which are undoubtedly already dingy from being exposed to the grimy hipster buttocks upon which they rest).

I don't know if this represents an invasion into bicycle culture by yet another product-way, but if my recent odometer sighting is any indication, the apcalypse seems to be nigh.


Rock on, lock on, SATAN! (to be pronounced SAY-tawn)

...prunings and eye candy

• The Big Picture is an awesome photo-journalism arm of Boston.com where you can waste hours flipping through large format pictures of excellent composition on a smattering of subjects. My current favorite, of course: 2009 Tour de France. (forwarded by a reader)
  

• Sashae's Flickr photostream of cyclists and their bikes. It seems primed to become (gasp) another Cycle-Chic blog though of the fixed gear and grungy urban-chic, not the 'artistically' monochromed and leather saddled-chic to which we have become accustomed. (via Prolly)
  

• This prototype tail-light that paints colored lines on the road with lasers to help drivers be aware of clearances you require when they pass. I thought that this was just another product enabling hipsters to further customize their fixed-gear bikes until I saw this video. Considering that the lines don't fade under headlights and ambient light, I will definitely get one of these if they decide to make them in multiple 'colorways'. (via altitude)
  

• Students at MIT are developing batteries for electric cars that can be fully recharged in 10 minutes flat! Let's see if the government squashes this as quietly and efficiently as they did the EV1. (via Inhabitat)

• Using Wiimotes as tracking devices, Japanese researchers have figured out how to create touchable holograms utilizing a "phenomena called acoustic radiation pressure" to create sensations in a user's hand. I wonder how long it'll take for this to turn into hyper-realistic, interactive porn... (via physorg.com)

• The great hipster silk route has widened to accomodate a new watering hole in the form of Der Schwarze Kölner, a new beer garden that has just opened on Fulton and S. Oxford St. Considering they offer liter mugs, I may have to stop in tonight for a cold one or three. (via NYTimes: Ft. Greene/Clinton Hill blog)
  

...back from nowhere

Sorry about the recent lack of posts. I've been pretty busy for a change, working on getting my parent's beach house to a build-able state and hunting for new employment as I had mentioned last week.

Alas, the transition from 'architect erk' to 'bike mechanic erk' isn't going as smoothly as I'd planned, especially considering the recent upswing in available freelance telecommuting positions for draftsmen such as myself. While I'd be very content doing zen shit like polishing bearing races, It would be sweet if I could snag a job where my commute is 20 feet and the local lunch spot is my kitchen, imagine the freedom!

Fear not though, soon there will be an ebb to my workload and I can resume blogging about the frivolities and tomfoolery of society and it's denizens.

One subject that has piqued my curiosity (and will surely soon be the focus of in-depth cultural analysis by yours truly) is the dramatic spread of hipsterdom throughout the country.

Only a few years ago, tight pants, day-glo throwback sneakers, and garishly patterned sweatshirts were merely a novelty of the late-eighties-early-nineties, places like NYC, and other dense urban places populated by kind-of-artsy 'twenty somethings'. Now, when taking bike trips and such to more rural locales, I notice that the hipness has been latched onto by youngsters everywhere.

This notion that it's hip to be hip ironically lies in stark contrast to what was previously deemed hip in the era to which hipsters seem to ascribe themselves. I don't usually take issue with most of the fashion faux pas I see (as I'm certain that to some, I probably look like a tool of one subculture or another), though some trends I find troublingly popular and under critiqued.

One such trend is girls wearing is 'mom-cut' jeans and shorts. You know, the ones with three extra inches of fabric above the natural waist and extra lateral room for post childbirth hip expansion?


I'm really not sure why this is becoming a 'hip' look. I can't speak for everyone, but when I see chicks in pants like this, I throw up a little in my mouth. Certainly, more shapely women can appropriate this (aesthetic?) mode to sexier ends, but for regular people with regular rumps, pants like this are just about the most unflattering thing one could wear.

I suppose if your goal is to quell cat-calls, then wearing these would likely aid in your de-sexification to positive effect. The flip side is that the wearer is rendered sexually mute and will experience difficulty securing a mate of the opposite sex; so maybe carrying mace or a rape whistle would be a bit more reasonable in everyday circumstances.

However, I am nonetheless worried about this influx of high-waisted pants. Has there been a spike in cases of Oedipus complexes amongst male hipsters? Because usually men aren't attracted to saggy butt-cheeks and cinched bellies, this must be the case. Either that or (the more likely scenario) women just don't really care what guys think and dress more so for each other in an unspoken, platonic fashion competition.

Whatever the case, please, women of the world, heed the satire of SNL!



My only hope is that like these women, hipsterdom is acting out a wardrobe deadpan comedy (WDC from now on) as opposed to truly and wholeheartedly liking antiquated failures of fashion. Who knows, Pharrell seems intent on pushing this wave of bubblegum bullshit to the breaking point by opening kitchy stores like the new BBC/Ice Cream store in SOHO.

'til next time friends, ride safe.

...a good day for a brewski

Since around 9000 BC, man (and occasionally woman) has imbibed himself with grain-based alcohols, arguably the most popular of which is beer. Being the third most popular drink in the world (behind water and tea, apparently), beers are numerous in kind and vary widely in flavor and content, yielding very specific tastes and preferences amongst those that enjoy the foamy beverage.

This was evidenced yesterday, when our man Bam shared a chat over a cold one with Henry Louis Gates Jr. and the Cambridge police officer that arrested him for disorderly conduct, Sargent James Crowley. Also in attendance was VP Joe Biden, but he had a non alcoholic brew (either he previously had problems with drinking, or he needed to drive somewhere later), so he can't really claim participation in the 'Beer Summit'.


Gates and Crowley were in good form, choosing Sam Adams Light and Blue Moon, respectively; though Obama once again donned his 'everyman' persona opting for Bud Light of all things... Biden drank an ironic brew called Bucklers.

I must tip my hat to Obama... It's no secret that I'm a fan of his, but a chat over a beer to cool the hot hearts of those at the center of a media-hyped 'controversy' on a beautiful summer evening seems to me to be a great way to make amends and quell animosities. I have rarely been in the mood to start shit with people while drinking beer, and can attest to it's friendliness-inducing nature.

Speaking of how yummy and awesome beer is, It is important to note how nutritious it is and its recognized usefulness to athletes; cyclists in particular. One 12 oz bottle of beer typically contains about 150 calories, 13 grams of carbohydrates, and a gram of protein. It's also is chock full of vitamins and minerals essential to bodies taxed by exercise, they include impressive amounts of B3 (niacin), and B9 (folate), to name a few, and being about 90% water, beer also makes it an excellent beverage for re-hydrating oneself after sweating profusely.

This interesting 1962 Tour de France documentary, forwarded to me by a reader, is testament to this. Note the "pub raids" about halfway through.



I wondered if the fans of a given cyclist would try to bar his rival from raiding their pub in hopes of giving their man a lead...

I really admire the cyclists who competed in the tour prior to the advent of race radios, team cars, air-conditioned lodging, and high tech sports drinks. It took true grit to complete the tour back then, and doping was done more so to dull the pain than it was to increase performance. In fact, it was a generally accepted fact that professional cyclists pulled a Tom Boonen every now and again to keep going under such strenuous conditions.

After I go riding tomorrow, I can guarantee I'll recuperate with a frosty friend or two... you should too!

...the weekend madness (installment 6)

So continuing with coverage of this weekend's epic rides, Sunday saw the peloton roll through eastern Paris to the Place de la Concorde, Jardin des Tuileries, and the Avenue des Champs-Élysées for a rousing eight lap finish to this three week long bike race.


The final stage is more of an exhibition stage where the riders are all smiles and camaraderie, in stark contrasts to the days before when the rivalries reared their ugly heads. Take, for example Contador and team Astana having a toast of champagne as they rode into town:


I'm not sure if that's actually champagne or if its apple juice. Drinking alcohol while racing a bicycle (even on a not so 'important' stage like this) seems like a bad idea to me. however, apple juice and a slice of toast with some nice marmalade would be lovely in my opinion. I think they should have a toaster in the team cars that plugs into the cigarette lighter so that team coaches can keep their racers fed with warm and crispy snacks. And maybe some cheese too; Brie maybe?

Speaking of Brie, while the peloton zipped toward the center of Paris, they passed through a region called Île-de-France, a place fairly reeking of the eponymous spread. The announcers oddly chose this moment to comment on the first two Japanese riders to complete the tour (apparently there were a few other guys who rode it long ago, but didn't finish); Fumiyuki Beppu and Yukiya Arashiro.


Perhaps it was an veiled jab at asian people's prevalent lactose intolerance, though we can't let this distract us from the real issue here: Why is it that the tour de france is hugely dominated by riders from the USA, Australia, and European countries?

Lets take a look at the podiums after stage 21 for reference shall we? First we have the first second and third placed riders (Contador 1st, Schleck 2nd, and Armstrong 3rd):


From left to right we've got a Luxembourger, a Spaniard, and an American. Seems fairly white-washed doesn't it? Lets see who else got up there:


...ah, yes; Franco Pellizotti, an Italian (obviously), won the King of the Mountains. The leader for sprint points was Thor Hushovd, A Norwegian...


...and lastly we have none other than the 'Mark Cavendish, winner of the day's stage:


Of course the 'Dish is from Britain, another stronghold of white-ness.

Because I don't know of any theories generally accepted by race scholars to this effect; I can only surmise that the elite of competitive cycling are selected from the ranks of each nation's top cyclists, and as such confuses me how there are virtually no (for instance) black cyclists in the grand tours.

Using my semi-regular trips to do laps in Prospect and Central Parks as a litmus, I would gather that cycling is quite the multi-ethnic sport, considering the number of roadies one encounters of all shapes and colors.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this... I just thought it odd that, for instance, the great majority of the world's greatest foot racers are black guys and gals, though that experience with stamina and power output wouldn't segue into a sport such as cycling, where such talents are essential. The fact that the race announcers spent a good fifteen minutes marveling at the foreign-ness of Beppu and Arashiro both baffles and worries me. I'm a firm believer that in order to combat racism, one must simultaneously accept it and ignore it where appropriate (the opposite of what the announcers were doing).

Anyway the conclusion of the tour, as I noted earlier, was pretty uneventful. Cavendish's victory on the Champs-Élysées was not only forseen by everyone, but anticlimactic as he and his lead-out man, Mark Renshaw, obliterated the peloton in the last turn and flew across the line a full three bike lengths ahead of the next riders.


This enormous gap and preemtive victory salute reminds me of another recent display of masterful sprinting ability. Though 'Dish's salute wasn't perhaps as creative as his previously noted SSS, It was one of sheer happiness, which is always nice to see, no matter the color or accent of the grin.


This is the 'Dish's sixth win at the 96th tour, and the most tour victories of any briton ever... Brilliant riding by the man x missle. To win in Paris is the pinnacle of acheivement for sprinters the world over.

...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.

... the Friday madness (rarely seen!)

It was a dark and dreary day at the tour today as the riders ascended to the 1183m high summit of the Col du Platzerwasel near the German border this morning... Of course, this doesn't mean that the fans were any less thick or annoying than on other famed climbs.


I have to say, however, that I'm getting a tad bored with the tour so far. Now that the flat stages are largely over, Cavendish has few opportunities to drop creative new victory salutes and it has fallen to the big-shots of pro cycling to create some action.

But the "cycling elite" (as the announcers like to call Lance, Alberto, Fabian, et al.) aren't doing much of anything. Today they let a breakaway go clear of the field before the first climb and never got around to reeling them in. Lance didn't push the tempo, Nocentini (maillot jaune) didn't try anything risky, and Contador just wasn't as aggressive and assholey as he usually is.

The guy who ended up winning the stage today was also visibly upset by the lack of action from the peloton:


Actually, In case you can't tell, I was only kidding with the previous statement. This is Heinrich Haussler and he rode magnificently today. Haussler obliterated the breakaway group almost thirty km out from the finish and stayed away, increasing his lead with every pedal stroke.

I can't blame the man for being overcome with emotion like this, the Tour de France is decidedly the most prestigious race in the world, and to win a stage in it is a coveted and elusive goal for nearly every competitive cyclist.

That said, I'd cry too.

Spending so much time recently scoping out the absolute cream of the sport of cycling, I find it neccessary to also probe its dark underbelly. Take this seemingly innocuous craigslist post for instance:


As I've underlined, and visibly questioned with a BADA55 'colorway', this ad is rife with inconsistency and beguiling language. Perhaps the poster is simply a once-in-a-while rider (or god forbid, a salmon) and knows very little about cycling nomenclature.

First of all, I think most bicycles are unisex these days, especially since the days of women's modesty have gone and rendered the double-drop bar frame an antiquated convention that is today more stylistic than functional.

Secondly, The poster may be interested to note that velodromes do not allow the use of multiple gear ratios or brakes, as is evidenced in the growing urban fixie fetishism. Therefore, "21 speed" and "track bike" are mutually exclusive terms and to put the two together in a strange portmanteaux is an oxymoron, moron.

Thirdly, though not lastly, I've never seen, heard of, or even dreamed about 700cm tires (i'm not going to even get into the "track tire" faux pas). I believe they mean 700c tires which roughly means tires that are 622mm in circumference. A wheel 7 meters in circumference must be a real track machine indeed, especially considering the UCI's limit on gain-per-pedalstroke is barely over 7 meters to begin with, though I suppose that could give creedence to the handlebar motto I blogged about recently.

Then again, perhaps cycling is in fact moving toward larger and larger wheel sizes as evidenced by Bike Snob's recent sighting.

Lastly, I hope the above post intended to say carbon fiber fork, instead of fiberglass fork because fiberglass has a famously poor track record when it comes to resisting the dynamic forces of impact.

Anyway, steer clear of the rediculosity this weekend and ride safe!

P.S. Look forward to epic pics and coverage of my slog up to the roadie-verse on Monday!

...Sejr for Danmark!

Today was a great day for Danes everywhere as former danish national road racing champion (twice, once in 2003 and again in 2008), Nicki Sørensen, destroyed the breakaway with an attack at just over 5km to the finish of stage 12. Though this is the first Tour de France stage victory for Sørensen, he is no stranger to the podium as evidenced by his growing list of wins. Here he is celebrating as he crossed the line more than thirty seconds ahead of the breakaway and six and a half minutes clear of the peloton:


Of course, I can't rob you of the requisite podium shot:


This excellent cycling by Sørensen has moved him from 39th place to 26th place in the GC standings!

In other tour news, today versus' filler shots were not opulent chateaus as they were yesterday but instead they focused on the hay bale art along the route that farmers (I assume) put
together to commemorate the race passing by. Most are fairly standard fare, bicycles being the most popular subject matter:


Though I do tip my hat to some other crafty individuals who weren't content with using only bales of hay to show their enthusiasm. This one was crafted with not only hay, but matching threshers and a clever implementation of colored bale bags:


Well, At least there were enough of these that they could show us a different one each time.

No major crashes on my radar today, so stay tuned next week when I'll be sure to have found some stomach-churning gore (your'e fairly warned) for the next KIRT post. Hopefully by that point we'll also have a better idea of who will emerge as the overall winner in the tour, and will finally be able to get some sleep and stop worrying about Lance's time deficit.

...LBSR and new toys!

This past Sunday a few friends and I took a delightful little jaunt down to Coney Island. Except for one flat, it was a nice, uneventful ride with an easy pace that ended with hot dogs at Nathan's (for in-depth coverage of our gastronomical excursions, be sure to hit up that moohare). As I mentioned yesterday, several of the people we rode with had just bought bicycles that day, though one person rented a bike from a nearby bike shop that I had no idea existed.

We understandably had a tough time getting it back to the shop before their closing time of 6:30pm, so I opted to just return it in the morning since I learned it was along my usual route to work. Walking the two bikes, one in each hand, I decided to snap a quick photo of the rented bike for posterity:


As you can tell from the relaxed position of the bike, and the lazy dandelions I included in the 'composition', it is built for comfort, not speed. This is by no means an attack on comfort bikes or those who ride/rent/sell them, its just not my style. I prefer to stay light and quick as such are the demands of city riding.

What struck me about this bike the most was its weight. I don't know exactly how much my bike weighs, but I think its somewhere just under the 20lb mark. This bike seemed to be two, if not three times heavier. Seriously, I have to hand it to the girl for riding this 20 miles on Sunday, she's a champ.

I got there and handed over the behemoth without incident and continued on to work, surprised I had never before known about this shop:

Ride Brooklyn


Yesterday I decided I was sick of my shitty stock brakes and set out to find a new pair of calipers. After finding Bicycle Habitat out of stock (unfortunately an all too common situation for them in the summertime), I tried this store out. Having taken note of the ubiquitous 'Brooklyn' cycling caps displayed in multiple 'colorways' in their window, I knew this was a well stocked shop indeed.


Pete and Jessica, the owners (or so I was led to believe), were extremely helpful and sold me not only a new set of calipers, but a wireless cateye cyclo-computer as well.


Considering Brooklyn Bike & Board boasts awesome mechanics but lacks the scale of other LBS's inventories, I doubt the two stores will step on each others toes too much, despite their being less than two full blocks away from one another. I will definitely continue to patronize both stores given their respective fortes.

Speaking of forte, Today's Stage 11 of the Tour de France ended with yet another victory for the 'dish. He snatched the victory from Thor Hushovd after the latter initiated the final sprint. In doing so, Cavendish has tied the record for number of stages won by a briton in the tour (8).


And of course this means he's back in the green.


There's not much to look forward to from Lance & Co. until this weekend, but perhaps the 'dish will keep us entertained until the race gets to the Alps and Versus can stop glazing over the post-race interviews with shots of the many chateauxs the race passes.

I'm always interested to see the aerial shots of little french villages and castles, but versus uses them as a crutch, which bothers me. I screen-capped the above shot because it was about the thousandth time they showed that same damn building.

I can hear the helicopter radio conversation now,

"Super-five-five, this is ground control do you copy? over."
"Copy that ground control, this is super-five-five, everyone's over the line... Any word from the network? over."
"Nothing yet super-five-five maintain a holding pattern over something pretty and shoot that until something happens on the ground. over."
"Copy that ground control, We've got a stately home with manicured lawns in our sights, good enough? over."
"Good to go super five-five, the winner has a british accent so network says no interviews allowed. over."
"Roger that ground control, we'll keep shooting this building 'til word comes down. over."