BikeSnobNYC's Blog, page 2
December 11, 2019
Gravel Is Out, Linoleum Is In
Remember when all the cool people were riding on gravel? Well, it looks like riding drop-bar bicycles over tiny pebbles is over. According to Strava, your living room is the new gravel:
Indeed, in January of this year over 15% of Strava dorks uploaded indoor rides:
While this may sound like a lot to you, as a Strava user myself it seems incredibly low to me, because I haven't seen anyone log an actual outdoor ride since at least October. No, it's all Zwift rides now. "Wow, I wonder what so-and-so is up to," you think, and then you check the route map of their latest ride and see that like 90% of it is underwater:
Alas, following people on Strava now is basically like eating grated parmesan: you think you're getting the real thing, but a distressing percentage of it is just artificial filler.
Of course, just as I've become a total Strava wanker, I'd no doubt be Zwifting too if only it weren't for my living arrangement, which is probably the only thing keeping me honest. See, space is at a premium here in the Tenovo household, and I'm not about to drag a trainer into the mix. I'm sure if I lived in the suburbs I'd be Zwifting my life away in the basement on a daily basis, partially because I'd have the space, and partially because when you move out of New York City you're not allowed to take your pride beyond the city limits. (I do have a little pride left, though the space required to store it is yet another reason I can't fit a trainer in my home.) As of now, however, I simply pretend I'm taking a bold ethical stance.
Then again, it's not too hard to ride outside all winter long here. Single-digit temperature days are fairly rare, and in the event of snow the city salts the streets like a pretzel and plows them more or less immediately. This means that at the very least I can at least manage a ride down to Central Park, which is what I did today:
We'd gotten some light snow this morning, but prior to that it had been warm and rainy, meaning the trails would be far too soggy. So I set out on the Milwaukee for an urban ride instead:
As you may recall, the rear hub on the Milwaukee is rather draggy. So before setting out I solved the problem by ditching those wheels and putting on different ones:
In fact, they're the very same ones the bike arrived with in the first place--Shimano RS21s, a cheap pair of wheels they don't seem to make anymore:
I've abused them on various bikes since then and they've given me nothing to complain about.
I also replaced the brake pads, since I just happened to have two fresh pairs I must have bought some time ago in an uncharacteristic fit of preparedness. The upshot of all this labor is that the bike stops, the chain doesn't sag, and as of now I can even access more or less all my gear combinations!
I'm ready for winter.
Indeed, in January of this year over 15% of Strava dorks uploaded indoor rides:
While this may sound like a lot to you, as a Strava user myself it seems incredibly low to me, because I haven't seen anyone log an actual outdoor ride since at least October. No, it's all Zwift rides now. "Wow, I wonder what so-and-so is up to," you think, and then you check the route map of their latest ride and see that like 90% of it is underwater:
Alas, following people on Strava now is basically like eating grated parmesan: you think you're getting the real thing, but a distressing percentage of it is just artificial filler.
Of course, just as I've become a total Strava wanker, I'd no doubt be Zwifting too if only it weren't for my living arrangement, which is probably the only thing keeping me honest. See, space is at a premium here in the Tenovo household, and I'm not about to drag a trainer into the mix. I'm sure if I lived in the suburbs I'd be Zwifting my life away in the basement on a daily basis, partially because I'd have the space, and partially because when you move out of New York City you're not allowed to take your pride beyond the city limits. (I do have a little pride left, though the space required to store it is yet another reason I can't fit a trainer in my home.) As of now, however, I simply pretend I'm taking a bold ethical stance.
Then again, it's not too hard to ride outside all winter long here. Single-digit temperature days are fairly rare, and in the event of snow the city salts the streets like a pretzel and plows them more or less immediately. This means that at the very least I can at least manage a ride down to Central Park, which is what I did today:
We'd gotten some light snow this morning, but prior to that it had been warm and rainy, meaning the trails would be far too soggy. So I set out on the Milwaukee for an urban ride instead:
As you may recall, the rear hub on the Milwaukee is rather draggy. So before setting out I solved the problem by ditching those wheels and putting on different ones:
In fact, they're the very same ones the bike arrived with in the first place--Shimano RS21s, a cheap pair of wheels they don't seem to make anymore:
I've abused them on various bikes since then and they've given me nothing to complain about.
I also replaced the brake pads, since I just happened to have two fresh pairs I must have bought some time ago in an uncharacteristic fit of preparedness. The upshot of all this labor is that the bike stops, the chain doesn't sag, and as of now I can even access more or less all my gear combinations!
I'm ready for winter.
December 10, 2019
Rudderless and Fenderless
This morning a window presented itself between rain showers, and so I headed out once again on the Tresca:
I've been enjoying this bike as a winter workhorse, and on a whim I swung by their website to see what was new. As it happens, it looks like they're now having their own artisanal hand-curated IPO:
Confession: way back in the 20th century, when Cannondale went public, I bought some shares. It probably won't surprise you to know those shares became worthless in fairly short order. There were a number of reasons for this, including a foray into motocross bikes on Cannondale's part, which I probably don't have to tell you was fucking stupid. Anyway, those shares sat in my account with a value of roughly $0 ever since, until just a few weeks ago when my brokerage account finally zorched them from my balance sheet.
If only I'd invested that money in Amazon or Google instead of Cannondale I'd probably be typing this from a diamond-encrusted sofa, instead of the food-encrusted sofa I'm typing this from now.
So it's up to you whether or not you want to invest in a startup bike company, but if you do you should sell as soon as they start talking about motocross bikes. Either way, you can subscribe to my financial advice newsletter here.
As for my ride, I wasn't sure where to go. Rain was imminent, and given yesterday's deluge I knew River Road over in Jersey would probably be strewn with debris. So I decided to roll around the city limits check out the new bike lane on Southern Boulevard in the Bronx:
The lane runs along the New York Botanical Gardens, and the ghost bike in the distance is for Heather Lough, whose killer received the customary wrist-slapping. I was exceedingly pleased to learn that the DOT had finally put a bike lane here, since I take my kids to the Botanical Gardens and the Bronx Zoo by bike from time to time (the two institutions are adjacent to each other), but until now once you got to Southern Boulevard there was zero bike infrastructure and you were on your own. (Southern Boulevard is too hectic for kids, which means you've pretty much got no choice but to take to the sidewalk.) So this project could be potentially transformative--at least for me, anyway, which is what's really important--and as such I had high hopes.
Well, hopefully this is a work-in-progress at a very early stage, because so far I am not impressed. Firstly, it's a two-way bike lane, but there are no markings to that effect, save for the portion that runs past the entrance to the Botanical Gardens parking lot:
Also, most of the bike lane was full of buses:
And when I say full, I mean it:
Even without the buses, riding south along the painted "buffer" was mildly disconcerting what with the car traffic barreling towards you and all, and obviously with the buses there the whole thing is utterly useless.
I mean I don't want to jump to any conclusions here, since the city may only just be getting started, but if that paint is all that's going to stand between motor vehicle and the bike lane then this ain't gonna work.
From there, I continued on with no particular destination in mind, as you can see from my weird route:
Actually, the route map also looks kind of like a rudder, which is ironic.
Eventually I decided I'd head down to Central Park, then I headed back up the west side of Manhattan, and at around the George Washington Bridge the rain started coming down, so I was nice and soggy by the time I got home--but it was a good soggy, for somehow when I head out for a ride I always arrive home happier than I was when I left.
Though maybe it's just relief that I made it alive.
I've been enjoying this bike as a winter workhorse, and on a whim I swung by their website to see what was new. As it happens, it looks like they're now having their own artisanal hand-curated IPO:
Confession: way back in the 20th century, when Cannondale went public, I bought some shares. It probably won't surprise you to know those shares became worthless in fairly short order. There were a number of reasons for this, including a foray into motocross bikes on Cannondale's part, which I probably don't have to tell you was fucking stupid. Anyway, those shares sat in my account with a value of roughly $0 ever since, until just a few weeks ago when my brokerage account finally zorched them from my balance sheet.
If only I'd invested that money in Amazon or Google instead of Cannondale I'd probably be typing this from a diamond-encrusted sofa, instead of the food-encrusted sofa I'm typing this from now.
So it's up to you whether or not you want to invest in a startup bike company, but if you do you should sell as soon as they start talking about motocross bikes. Either way, you can subscribe to my financial advice newsletter here.
As for my ride, I wasn't sure where to go. Rain was imminent, and given yesterday's deluge I knew River Road over in Jersey would probably be strewn with debris. So I decided to roll around the city limits check out the new bike lane on Southern Boulevard in the Bronx:
The lane runs along the New York Botanical Gardens, and the ghost bike in the distance is for Heather Lough, whose killer received the customary wrist-slapping. I was exceedingly pleased to learn that the DOT had finally put a bike lane here, since I take my kids to the Botanical Gardens and the Bronx Zoo by bike from time to time (the two institutions are adjacent to each other), but until now once you got to Southern Boulevard there was zero bike infrastructure and you were on your own. (Southern Boulevard is too hectic for kids, which means you've pretty much got no choice but to take to the sidewalk.) So this project could be potentially transformative--at least for me, anyway, which is what's really important--and as such I had high hopes.
Well, hopefully this is a work-in-progress at a very early stage, because so far I am not impressed. Firstly, it's a two-way bike lane, but there are no markings to that effect, save for the portion that runs past the entrance to the Botanical Gardens parking lot:
Also, most of the bike lane was full of buses:
And when I say full, I mean it:
Even without the buses, riding south along the painted "buffer" was mildly disconcerting what with the car traffic barreling towards you and all, and obviously with the buses there the whole thing is utterly useless.
I mean I don't want to jump to any conclusions here, since the city may only just be getting started, but if that paint is all that's going to stand between motor vehicle and the bike lane then this ain't gonna work.
From there, I continued on with no particular destination in mind, as you can see from my weird route:
Actually, the route map also looks kind of like a rudder, which is ironic.
Eventually I decided I'd head down to Central Park, then I headed back up the west side of Manhattan, and at around the George Washington Bridge the rain started coming down, so I was nice and soggy by the time I got home--but it was a good soggy, for somehow when I head out for a ride I always arrive home happier than I was when I left.
Though maybe it's just relief that I made it alive.
December 9, 2019
I've Just Been Handed An Urgent And Horrifying News Story...
Further to Friday's post about winter bikes, for off-season road riding that's not quite sloppy enough to warrant full wheelbrows, I've been riding the Tresca, shown here in the exact spot where I fell headlong into my own urine back in 2009:
How many bike bloggers have as rich and storied a history as me?
Not too many.
By the way, you'll be pleased to know that this time around I relieved myself without falling down, of which I am very proud.
Anyway, the Tresca is ideal for this time of year, mostly because its silver and black color scheme disappears into the melancholy winter backdrop almost completely:
Also, you may remember two things about the Tresca:
1) It is a prototype with an incorrectly placed brake bridge, resulting in MetroCard-thin rear tire clearance;
B) I exploded the rear tire recently after riding over something sharp in Yonkers.
Well, I've since replaced the severed tire with a 25mm Continental Gatorskin I found in my tire pile. (Anyone who's been riding for more than a few years has both a tire pile and a punctured inner tube pile.) Not only was this frugal inasmuch as I didn't have to pay for a new tire, but I actually made money since I finally got the dollar back that I used to boot the old one. Now that's how you monetize a bike blog. Also, even though the destroyed tire was also a Continental, and also ostensibly 25mm wide, the Gatorskin turned out to be quite a bit narrower, which upgraded the clearance from one (1) MetroCard to two (2) Discover cards:
Yeah, it's still pretty tight, but now I don't actually hear grit hitting the brake bridge when I ride through puddles.
So you can put that problem in the "solved" folder, and then drag and drop that file right in the trash because you probably didn't care anyway.
Moving on, there's been a bit of bike world blowback regarding a recent story in which a pair of bro-bags set a cross-country Cannonball Run record in a douched-out Mercedes. I first heard about it from Peter Flax's Twitter:
His point being, basically, this:
While I do agree with both of them in spirit I can't quite manage to get worked up about this stunt or the fact that people think it's cool--and not just because I used to love the 1981 movie of the same name:
I haven't seen it since I was like 10 years old, and can only imagine that in 2019 it's completely awful in every way.
No, the reason I can't get worked up over it is that I don't actually think a couple of car freaks driving across the country as fast as possible is "everything that's wrong with the car culture." On the contrary, I think the millions of inattentive people who make short trips in giant SUVs on a daily basis are everything that's wrong with car culture. Or, to put it more succinctly, here's everything that's wrong with car culture:
Sure, I can't stand the antics of Lucas Brunelle, who to me is not so much an athlete or a daredevil as he is a purveyor of vehicular cycling porn. At the same time, his brand of niche douchery is fairly self-contained--well, most of the time, anyway--and, ultimately, meaningless. Similarly, if you're a cyclist, it's probably not people driving around in WRXes with "shocker" decals who are causing you consternation. If anything, whatever your chosen stunt vehicle, at least identifying as an "outlaw" precludes the sort of entitlement the woman in the pickup feels, since you can't really feel like you "own the road" when your whole schtick is basically that you're stealing it.
So yeah, I'm not worried about the drivers making a Cannonball Run once a year so much as I'm worried about the ones making the school run on a daily basis.
Finally, with the holidays right around the corner, here's a gratuitous reminder that a tool roll makes a great gift:
There, I just finished your holiday shopping for you.
How many bike bloggers have as rich and storied a history as me?
Not too many.
By the way, you'll be pleased to know that this time around I relieved myself without falling down, of which I am very proud.
Anyway, the Tresca is ideal for this time of year, mostly because its silver and black color scheme disappears into the melancholy winter backdrop almost completely:
Also, you may remember two things about the Tresca:
1) It is a prototype with an incorrectly placed brake bridge, resulting in MetroCard-thin rear tire clearance;
B) I exploded the rear tire recently after riding over something sharp in Yonkers.
Well, I've since replaced the severed tire with a 25mm Continental Gatorskin I found in my tire pile. (Anyone who's been riding for more than a few years has both a tire pile and a punctured inner tube pile.) Not only was this frugal inasmuch as I didn't have to pay for a new tire, but I actually made money since I finally got the dollar back that I used to boot the old one. Now that's how you monetize a bike blog. Also, even though the destroyed tire was also a Continental, and also ostensibly 25mm wide, the Gatorskin turned out to be quite a bit narrower, which upgraded the clearance from one (1) MetroCard to two (2) Discover cards:
Yeah, it's still pretty tight, but now I don't actually hear grit hitting the brake bridge when I ride through puddles.
So you can put that problem in the "solved" folder, and then drag and drop that file right in the trash because you probably didn't care anyway.
Moving on, there's been a bit of bike world blowback regarding a recent story in which a pair of bro-bags set a cross-country Cannonball Run record in a douched-out Mercedes. I first heard about it from Peter Flax's Twitter:
I would like someone to explain to me why people who self-promote averaging 103mph on a cross-country drive, and brag about using sophisticated tech to avoid police detection, should not go to prison. https://t.co/kXSskzvJcZ— Peter Flax (@Pflax1) December 6, 2019Then Joe Lindsey wrote about it in Bicyling:
It’s a stunningly selfish disregard for public safety. https://t.co/Uh0UxiyFx5— Bicycling Magazine (@BicyclingMag) December 7, 2019
His point being, basically, this:
While I do agree with both of them in spirit I can't quite manage to get worked up about this stunt or the fact that people think it's cool--and not just because I used to love the 1981 movie of the same name:
I haven't seen it since I was like 10 years old, and can only imagine that in 2019 it's completely awful in every way.
No, the reason I can't get worked up over it is that I don't actually think a couple of car freaks driving across the country as fast as possible is "everything that's wrong with the car culture." On the contrary, I think the millions of inattentive people who make short trips in giant SUVs on a daily basis are everything that's wrong with car culture. Or, to put it more succinctly, here's everything that's wrong with car culture:
Just a quiet Sunday afternoon riding north of the Dallas area when an F-250 swirvs around us and slams on its brakes. @Pflax1 @philgaimon @CadenceCyclery pic.twitter.com/py4cld5c6Z— Gary Derheim (@DerheimMgdSvcs) December 9, 2019Basically, "car culture" is a heady melange of grotesque entitlement and complete and utter obliviousness. For all the douche-tastic hijinx of the Cannonball Run stunt, at least it requires some degree of focus and precludes squandering a bunch of time on tormenting cyclists. Again, I'm not disagreeing with either Peter Flax or Joe Lindsey exactly, but I just think it doesn't make sense to frame the Cannonball Run as an indictment of car culture in the same way it doesn't make sense to use Lucas Brunelle to frame your argument against cyclists:
Sure, I can't stand the antics of Lucas Brunelle, who to me is not so much an athlete or a daredevil as he is a purveyor of vehicular cycling porn. At the same time, his brand of niche douchery is fairly self-contained--well, most of the time, anyway--and, ultimately, meaningless. Similarly, if you're a cyclist, it's probably not people driving around in WRXes with "shocker" decals who are causing you consternation. If anything, whatever your chosen stunt vehicle, at least identifying as an "outlaw" precludes the sort of entitlement the woman in the pickup feels, since you can't really feel like you "own the road" when your whole schtick is basically that you're stealing it.
So yeah, I'm not worried about the drivers making a Cannonball Run once a year so much as I'm worried about the ones making the school run on a daily basis.
Finally, with the holidays right around the corner, here's a gratuitous reminder that a tool roll makes a great gift:
There, I just finished your holiday shopping for you.
December 6, 2019
An Ode To The Winter Bike
J.D. Salinger once said:
"The hardest thing about writing is laying down that first line. So every morning I sit down, crack my knuckles, and type, 'fuckityfuckityfuckfuckfuck.' After that the prose practically flows from my fingers like beer piss.'"
Please note the above quotation it completely made up. I don't want to get in trouble again.
fuckityfuckityfuckfuckfuck
Right, so back in the spring of 2017 I signed on with New York City advocacy organization Transportation Alternatives to write their "Bike Forecast." The idea was you'd wake up, pour yourself a piping hot mug of Bike Snob coffee:
(It makes a great holiday gift!)
Then you'd peruse the Bike Forecast and get caught up on the weather, bike-related news, DOT advisories, etc. before heading into the New York City street fuckery.
(Also somewhere in there you'd go to the bathroom, but I don't need to walk you through the whole process.)
Anyway, I mention this because this morning marked the final Bike Forecast post, and going forward the bike commuters of New York City will have to read something else while going to the bathroom. And while I'll miss curating the Forecast--it was as much a part of my routine as going to the bathroom--no longer doing so will afford me more time to spend over here on this blog, and now that I look around the place I realize it sure could use some upgrading. Maybe I'll even install a bidet.
Stay tuned.
In the meantime, I will continue to cement my position as the World's Most Thorough Bike Reviewer. For example, we are now well into year four of my ongoing review of the Milwaukee road bike, which I received way back in 2015:
Well, a lot's happened since then. Disc brakes took over, gravel bikes got big, and also a certain real estate developer became president. (Coincidence? I think not.) And yet I'm still cranking away on the Milwaukee, and I still love it. Here it is on the Col du Maison de Snack earlier this week:
Basically, the Milwaukee is a classic road bike with a sporty/racy geometry, except it also takes medium-reach brakes so you can fit it with wider tires and/or fenders--you know, all the stuff you "need" disc brakes in order to do. (I have nothing against disc brakes, but if you don't feel like making the switch because you appreciate the simplicity of rim brakes or you have like 20 years worth of spare rim brake parts to go through it's good to know there's still a bike out there for you.) In my time with this bike our relationship has changed and evolved: at first I basically used it as a "gravel" bike (mixed-terrain rides), but as I became a plus-tire convert and eventually a full-on Jones cult member I forewent the Milwaukee for those sorts of rides and instead outfitted it with skinny tires and fenders for messy-weather road riding.
"Winter road bike" is not a glamorous career for a bicycle, but in a place like New York it is an essential one. From December through April it's crucial to have a bike for those days when the trails are too snowy or muddy, and the roads are rideable yet wet with snow run-off and strewn with salt. Wide tires are not especially necessary during this time (you're not taking off-road detours when it's 40 degrees and the trails are slushy), but full-coverage fenders are, and a bike like this will see you through all but the very worst days.
Of course, conditions like these take their toll on bikes and components. In fact, by the time the fall rolled around the Milwaukee was in rough shape, so I sidelined it until I had a chance to give it an overhaul. Then December rolled around and I needed my winter road bike, at which point I decided it was silly to put new stuff on a bike that was just going to be subjected to months of salt and road spray, so I lubed the rusty chain, played with the derailleur until it would shift into all the gears again, and hit the road:
Yes, there's about 200 grams of extra grime and sludge on this bike, but it's still operating pretty smoothly, all things considered. Really, the only issues are: 1) That the front shifting requires a little extra force, possibly due to the bent derailleur I had to subsequently un-bend, or possibly due to the digger I took on the Old Croton Aqueduct when I broke my thumb, or, most likely, both; and 2) the rear hub is super draggy:
I bought this hub as part of a second-hand wheelset many years ago, and being overbuilt as Chris King components are, it's now on its second rim with plenty of life in it. At the same time, even after opening it up and lubing it it's always been draggy to the point that the chain will droop and hit the chainstay if I backpedal. So I've basically relegated it to winter duty, where performance is secondary to imperviousness to the elements.
Other issues I've been loath to address include this unsightly gap between fender and rear tire:
Basically, these are the same fenders that were on my old Scattante:
Because of the way these fenders are designed you've basically got to remove the stays and cut them in order to get everything lined up perfectly. Being the lazy person I am I was of course reluctant to bother with all that again, so when I put them on the Milwaukee and they didn't interfere with the tire I figured that was good enough and that was that.
The bar tape is also in really rough shape:
I've been meaning to change that, but the more I think about it, the more I feel like the proper attitude is, "Why bother?"
The one thing I will change before riding it again are the brake pads, which are virtually nonexistent:
I was easily one or two wet descents away from metal-on-metal, though fortunately I had my draggy Chris King hub to help slow me down.
Nevertheless, the Milwaukee still manages to emit a faint glow of class from beneath the grunge, thanks in part to the raised stainless downtube badge:
And head badge:
In a way it's a real shame I subject it to this sort of treatment. This is a reasonably priced frame and fork made out of good quality tubing by Waterford and is well-deserving of a Campagnolo group and some fair-weather prancing about. (Yes, I'm a born-again Campagnolo fan thanks to my New-To-Me Titanium "Forever Bike.") Indeed, it appears the Potenza group is available in silver:
Milwaukee offer a whole bunch of colors, but seems to me you pair that with one of these and you've got yourself an extremely genteel Fred chariot:
That being said, apart from the aforementioned front shifting issues, the 10-speed 105 stuff on this bike has held up very well, and as a bonus it's also silver. (I do like silver road bike groups, which I imagine won't be available much longer.)
And while I'm at it, I might as well pivot to another long-term bike review subject, that being the Brompton:
On Monday I rode it to the radio show, and yesterday morning I was sitting on the couch and staring at the wall like I usually when a text message reminded me I had a dentist appointment in like an hour. Yikes! Fortunately the Brompton was still sitting by the front door, so I grabbed it and off I went. I didn't even bring so much as a lock, which was totally fine since I just left it in the waiting room while they went at my pearly yellows with the belt sander.
See that? A Brompton will pay for itself in preventative dental maintenance alone. Without it I'd probably have skipped the appointment and my teeth would eventually have fallen out. Then I'd need to pay Renovo to make me a set of wooden ones...
"The hardest thing about writing is laying down that first line. So every morning I sit down, crack my knuckles, and type, 'fuckityfuckityfuckfuckfuck.' After that the prose practically flows from my fingers like beer piss.'"
Please note the above quotation it completely made up. I don't want to get in trouble again.
fuckityfuckityfuckfuckfuck
Right, so back in the spring of 2017 I signed on with New York City advocacy organization Transportation Alternatives to write their "Bike Forecast." The idea was you'd wake up, pour yourself a piping hot mug of Bike Snob coffee:
(It makes a great holiday gift!)Then you'd peruse the Bike Forecast and get caught up on the weather, bike-related news, DOT advisories, etc. before heading into the New York City street fuckery.
(Also somewhere in there you'd go to the bathroom, but I don't need to walk you through the whole process.)
Anyway, I mention this because this morning marked the final Bike Forecast post, and going forward the bike commuters of New York City will have to read something else while going to the bathroom. And while I'll miss curating the Forecast--it was as much a part of my routine as going to the bathroom--no longer doing so will afford me more time to spend over here on this blog, and now that I look around the place I realize it sure could use some upgrading. Maybe I'll even install a bidet.
Stay tuned.
In the meantime, I will continue to cement my position as the World's Most Thorough Bike Reviewer. For example, we are now well into year four of my ongoing review of the Milwaukee road bike, which I received way back in 2015:
Well, a lot's happened since then. Disc brakes took over, gravel bikes got big, and also a certain real estate developer became president. (Coincidence? I think not.) And yet I'm still cranking away on the Milwaukee, and I still love it. Here it is on the Col du Maison de Snack earlier this week:
Basically, the Milwaukee is a classic road bike with a sporty/racy geometry, except it also takes medium-reach brakes so you can fit it with wider tires and/or fenders--you know, all the stuff you "need" disc brakes in order to do. (I have nothing against disc brakes, but if you don't feel like making the switch because you appreciate the simplicity of rim brakes or you have like 20 years worth of spare rim brake parts to go through it's good to know there's still a bike out there for you.) In my time with this bike our relationship has changed and evolved: at first I basically used it as a "gravel" bike (mixed-terrain rides), but as I became a plus-tire convert and eventually a full-on Jones cult member I forewent the Milwaukee for those sorts of rides and instead outfitted it with skinny tires and fenders for messy-weather road riding.
"Winter road bike" is not a glamorous career for a bicycle, but in a place like New York it is an essential one. From December through April it's crucial to have a bike for those days when the trails are too snowy or muddy, and the roads are rideable yet wet with snow run-off and strewn with salt. Wide tires are not especially necessary during this time (you're not taking off-road detours when it's 40 degrees and the trails are slushy), but full-coverage fenders are, and a bike like this will see you through all but the very worst days.
Of course, conditions like these take their toll on bikes and components. In fact, by the time the fall rolled around the Milwaukee was in rough shape, so I sidelined it until I had a chance to give it an overhaul. Then December rolled around and I needed my winter road bike, at which point I decided it was silly to put new stuff on a bike that was just going to be subjected to months of salt and road spray, so I lubed the rusty chain, played with the derailleur until it would shift into all the gears again, and hit the road:
Yes, there's about 200 grams of extra grime and sludge on this bike, but it's still operating pretty smoothly, all things considered. Really, the only issues are: 1) That the front shifting requires a little extra force, possibly due to the bent derailleur I had to subsequently un-bend, or possibly due to the digger I took on the Old Croton Aqueduct when I broke my thumb, or, most likely, both; and 2) the rear hub is super draggy:
I bought this hub as part of a second-hand wheelset many years ago, and being overbuilt as Chris King components are, it's now on its second rim with plenty of life in it. At the same time, even after opening it up and lubing it it's always been draggy to the point that the chain will droop and hit the chainstay if I backpedal. So I've basically relegated it to winter duty, where performance is secondary to imperviousness to the elements.
Other issues I've been loath to address include this unsightly gap between fender and rear tire:
Basically, these are the same fenders that were on my old Scattante:
Because of the way these fenders are designed you've basically got to remove the stays and cut them in order to get everything lined up perfectly. Being the lazy person I am I was of course reluctant to bother with all that again, so when I put them on the Milwaukee and they didn't interfere with the tire I figured that was good enough and that was that.
The bar tape is also in really rough shape:
I've been meaning to change that, but the more I think about it, the more I feel like the proper attitude is, "Why bother?"
The one thing I will change before riding it again are the brake pads, which are virtually nonexistent:
I was easily one or two wet descents away from metal-on-metal, though fortunately I had my draggy Chris King hub to help slow me down.
Nevertheless, the Milwaukee still manages to emit a faint glow of class from beneath the grunge, thanks in part to the raised stainless downtube badge:
And head badge:
In a way it's a real shame I subject it to this sort of treatment. This is a reasonably priced frame and fork made out of good quality tubing by Waterford and is well-deserving of a Campagnolo group and some fair-weather prancing about. (Yes, I'm a born-again Campagnolo fan thanks to my New-To-Me Titanium "Forever Bike.") Indeed, it appears the Potenza group is available in silver:
Milwaukee offer a whole bunch of colors, but seems to me you pair that with one of these and you've got yourself an extremely genteel Fred chariot:
That being said, apart from the aforementioned front shifting issues, the 10-speed 105 stuff on this bike has held up very well, and as a bonus it's also silver. (I do like silver road bike groups, which I imagine won't be available much longer.)
And while I'm at it, I might as well pivot to another long-term bike review subject, that being the Brompton:
On Monday I rode it to the radio show, and yesterday morning I was sitting on the couch and staring at the wall like I usually when a text message reminded me I had a dentist appointment in like an hour. Yikes! Fortunately the Brompton was still sitting by the front door, so I grabbed it and off I went. I didn't even bring so much as a lock, which was totally fine since I just left it in the waiting room while they went at my pearly yellows with the belt sander.
See that? A Brompton will pay for itself in preventative dental maintenance alone. Without it I'd probably have skipped the appointment and my teeth would eventually have fallen out. Then I'd need to pay Renovo to make me a set of wooden ones...
December 4, 2019
New Outside Column!
Here's my latest Outside column, and it's about the folly of ticketing people on bikes:
Please do not read this as a self-serving "Woe is me, I had to pay a fine!" screed. Frankly, as a semi-professional bike blogger a $190 ticket is merely a relatively small business expense that has already yielded me not only a column in a mainstream publication (see above) but also a new brand name for me, that being Tan Tenovo:
See, I was ticketed while riding my erstwhile Renovo; the cop noted it a "Tan Tenovo" on the ticket, and this in turn served as the genesis of my latest alter ego.
So no, if anything the ticket was a gift I'm still wringing material from a year and a half later, and what I'm lamenting is all the people out there for whom a $190 fine is actually a crushing blow and yet another reason to swear off bikes and say, "Fuck it, I'm leasing a Hyundai."
Speaking of the Renovo, when you're done reading the column you can swing over to Classic Cycle and pay it a visit. It is, quite literally, a museum piece.
Please do not read this as a self-serving "Woe is me, I had to pay a fine!" screed. Frankly, as a semi-professional bike blogger a $190 ticket is merely a relatively small business expense that has already yielded me not only a column in a mainstream publication (see above) but also a new brand name for me, that being Tan Tenovo:
See, I was ticketed while riding my erstwhile Renovo; the cop noted it a "Tan Tenovo" on the ticket, and this in turn served as the genesis of my latest alter ego.
So no, if anything the ticket was a gift I'm still wringing material from a year and a half later, and what I'm lamenting is all the people out there for whom a $190 fine is actually a crushing blow and yet another reason to swear off bikes and say, "Fuck it, I'm leasing a Hyundai."
Speaking of the Renovo, when you're done reading the column you can swing over to Classic Cycle and pay it a visit. It is, quite literally, a museum piece.
December 3, 2019
Radio Is Podcasting For Retrogrouches
Grab your Little Orphan Annie secret decoder rings, because now you can stream my radio show from yesterday!
Spoiler alert, but I'm afraid you're going to be rather disappointed in the message:
See what I mean?
As it happens, yesterday we also received our first shipment of foul winter weather. Generally I relish the opportunity to ride to the studio in Brooklyn, for in cutting a great swath through the heart of this city I get to observe and experience much fuckery, and it's precisely my firsthand knowledge of said fuckery that makes me the engaging and authoritative radio host that I am. At the same time, with the weather set to worsen as the day wore on I didn't necessarily want to commit to a round-trip, since when it comes to fuckery consumption even I have my limits. And so I opted for the Brompton:
The Brompton is in many ways the ideal New York City commuting bicycle, and not just because you can fold it up and hop on the subway when you hit your fuckery threshold. For example, the tiny wheels are also an advantage. Oh sure, we may have potholes in this town large enough to swallow an entire Brompton, which means you've got to pay a little extra attention, but it's well worth it for one simple reason: smaller wheels equal less wheel spray. See, between the fenders and the mudflap and the tiny wheel diameter there's a very comfortable distance between you and all that winter sludge. Also, the bike's diminutive overall size makes it highly maneuverable in traffic, which is especially helpful when the streets are even more crowded due to snow.
But yeah, obviously the real advantage is the folding. Not only was I able to tuck it away on the corner (and drape my Inspector Gadget jacket over it) when it was not in use:
But after the show, with the snow beginning to fall in earnest, I was also able to say "Fuck it" and hop on the subway for the ride home.
And isn't being able to say "Fuck it" whenever you feel like it what living is all about?
You're welcome for the free ad slogan, Brompton.
By the way, if you saw me on the subway straddling my British folding bike and wearing both a hand-tailored jacket and a smug grin, you'd probably have thought, "That looks like precisely the sort of asshole who's in love with the sound of his own voice"--and you'd be absolutely right, because I spent the entire ride listening to my own radio show.
Moving on to full-sized bikes, Cyclingnews gravel-splains why your next tiny pebble-specific bike needs to be made from the crabon:
This is a great point. Other frame materials such as steel, aluminum, and titanium have one or maybe two molecules at most. It's true, I learned about it in science. Something about Avocado's number and how many molecules fit inside a Mole. A lot of chemistry is about dips and sauces.
This was also compelling:
Oh please. Sure, crabon is good for making racing bikes. It's light, it's strong, and it rides good. There are certainly valid reasons to choose a bike made from it. But if you're being tormented by "small-bump juddering" and suffering from "terrain induced vibration fatigue" you're either using the wrong tires or you need to find another leisure sport. I'd recommend one that involves making no contact with the ground whatsoever, such as boating. (Bonus: you still get to obsess over crabon.)
That said, I'm totally getting a crabon folding bike. Just think how much more efficient my commute will be when portaging it over the subway turnstile...
Spoiler alert, but I'm afraid you're going to be rather disappointed in the message:
See what I mean?
As it happens, yesterday we also received our first shipment of foul winter weather. Generally I relish the opportunity to ride to the studio in Brooklyn, for in cutting a great swath through the heart of this city I get to observe and experience much fuckery, and it's precisely my firsthand knowledge of said fuckery that makes me the engaging and authoritative radio host that I am. At the same time, with the weather set to worsen as the day wore on I didn't necessarily want to commit to a round-trip, since when it comes to fuckery consumption even I have my limits. And so I opted for the Brompton:
The Brompton is in many ways the ideal New York City commuting bicycle, and not just because you can fold it up and hop on the subway when you hit your fuckery threshold. For example, the tiny wheels are also an advantage. Oh sure, we may have potholes in this town large enough to swallow an entire Brompton, which means you've got to pay a little extra attention, but it's well worth it for one simple reason: smaller wheels equal less wheel spray. See, between the fenders and the mudflap and the tiny wheel diameter there's a very comfortable distance between you and all that winter sludge. Also, the bike's diminutive overall size makes it highly maneuverable in traffic, which is especially helpful when the streets are even more crowded due to snow.
But yeah, obviously the real advantage is the folding. Not only was I able to tuck it away on the corner (and drape my Inspector Gadget jacket over it) when it was not in use:
But after the show, with the snow beginning to fall in earnest, I was also able to say "Fuck it" and hop on the subway for the ride home.
And isn't being able to say "Fuck it" whenever you feel like it what living is all about?
You're welcome for the free ad slogan, Brompton.
By the way, if you saw me on the subway straddling my British folding bike and wearing both a hand-tailored jacket and a smug grin, you'd probably have thought, "That looks like precisely the sort of asshole who's in love with the sound of his own voice"--and you'd be absolutely right, because I spent the entire ride listening to my own radio show.
Moving on to full-sized bikes, Cyclingnews gravel-splains why your next tiny pebble-specific bike needs to be made from the crabon:
Why your next gravel bike needs a carbon-fibre framehttps://t.co/7XBRt5rnRX pic.twitter.com/tNmcQVZYXL— Cyclingnews.com (@Cyclingnewsfeed) December 3, 2019Basically, it's because crabon has "infinite diversity:"
This is a great point. Other frame materials such as steel, aluminum, and titanium have one or maybe two molecules at most. It's true, I learned about it in science. Something about Avocado's number and how many molecules fit inside a Mole. A lot of chemistry is about dips and sauces.This was also compelling:
Oh please. Sure, crabon is good for making racing bikes. It's light, it's strong, and it rides good. There are certainly valid reasons to choose a bike made from it. But if you're being tormented by "small-bump juddering" and suffering from "terrain induced vibration fatigue" you're either using the wrong tires or you need to find another leisure sport. I'd recommend one that involves making no contact with the ground whatsoever, such as boating. (Bonus: you still get to obsess over crabon.)
That said, I'm totally getting a crabon folding bike. Just think how much more efficient my commute will be when portaging it over the subway turnstile...
December 2, 2019
On The Air Again!
Good morning! It's been an edifying long holiday weekend, complete with a trip down to the finest legal singletrack Manhattan has to offer:
Hey, the neighborhood's not as gentrified as Bentonville, but still.
Now however it's time to get back to "business," so fire up the ol' transistor this morning for some radio action with my special guest!!
Hey, the neighborhood's not as gentrified as Bentonville, but still.
Now however it's time to get back to "business," so fire up the ol' transistor this morning for some radio action with my special guest!!
My name is not Even but yes!https://t.co/sHgk63Svmr— Bike Snob NYC (@bikesnobnyc) December 2, 2019Expect about nine minutes of talk and 51 minutes of "Freebird" played repeatedly while I go to the bathroom.
November 26, 2019
When it's this nice out you go for a ride. That's the rule.
Today was an unseasonably warm and sunny day:
Of which I took advantage by setting out for a leisurely interborough bicycle ride.
My original plan was to head over the bridge pictured above, but sometimes I just feel compelled to stay inside the city limits, so I wended my way down to Central Park instead. I also relieved myself in a public bathroom on the Hudson River Greenway I've ridden by about a thousand times but never actually used:
The beautiful thing about both cycling and New York City is that you never stop discovering new things, and that includes urinals.
Speaking of micturation, I was almost home when I stopped behind an Uber at a red light. As I stood there, I noticed the driver side door open, and minutes later multiple rivulets of urine started flowing from beneath the car and right in my direction. Thinking immediately of my fancy Donnelly LCV tires I scuttled out of the way just in time. So voluminous was the urine cascade that it was clear the driver hadn't been urinating; rather, he was no doubt emptying the pee bottle every for-hire driver keeps under the seat. (It's usually a Poland Spring bottle, and the curbs and gutters of New York City are littered with them.)
By the way, I shared this anecdote on Twitter, upon which one user reminded me of this:
I really should do t-shirts.
Finally, since I mentioned the Donnelly tires, I might as well follow up on how they're doing since I've probably crossed over the 100 mile mark on them by now. Basically, I still think they ride beautifully, and despite being a lightweight race tire they still show no cuts, even after being ridden in a rainstorm and through glass-strewn city streets:
I mean sure, it's only a matter of time, but at least for now they truly make my New-To-Me Titanium Forever Bike sing:
The streets are alive, with the smell of urine...
Of which I took advantage by setting out for a leisurely interborough bicycle ride.
My original plan was to head over the bridge pictured above, but sometimes I just feel compelled to stay inside the city limits, so I wended my way down to Central Park instead. I also relieved myself in a public bathroom on the Hudson River Greenway I've ridden by about a thousand times but never actually used:
The beautiful thing about both cycling and New York City is that you never stop discovering new things, and that includes urinals.
Speaking of micturation, I was almost home when I stopped behind an Uber at a red light. As I stood there, I noticed the driver side door open, and minutes later multiple rivulets of urine started flowing from beneath the car and right in my direction. Thinking immediately of my fancy Donnelly LCV tires I scuttled out of the way just in time. So voluminous was the urine cascade that it was clear the driver hadn't been urinating; rather, he was no doubt emptying the pee bottle every for-hire driver keeps under the seat. (It's usually a Poland Spring bottle, and the curbs and gutters of New York City are littered with them.)
By the way, I shared this anecdote on Twitter, upon which one user reminded me of this:
I really should do t-shirts.Finally, since I mentioned the Donnelly tires, I might as well follow up on how they're doing since I've probably crossed over the 100 mile mark on them by now. Basically, I still think they ride beautifully, and despite being a lightweight race tire they still show no cuts, even after being ridden in a rainstorm and through glass-strewn city streets:
I mean sure, it's only a matter of time, but at least for now they truly make my New-To-Me Titanium Forever Bike sing:
The streets are alive, with the smell of urine...
November 24, 2019
You Don't Have To Worry About Your Cyclocross Remount Technique If You Never Dismount In The First Place
This past weekend, that zany style of bike racing where you have to jump on and off the bike and stuff once again came to New York City--Queens, specifically--with the annual running of the Rainey Park Cylocross event.
Just as people don't usually associate the Ozarks with bagels (sorry, couldn't help it), they also don't tend to associate New York City with cyclocross. However, over the years we've had a cross race on Staten Island (now defunct, alas), there is a long-running practice on Randall's Island, and now with Rainey Park on the calendar you can race right there on the East River with the New York City skyline for a backdrop in a venue that's easy to access by bike or public transportation.
These days, I'm mostly retired from cyclocross, choosing mostly to rest on the laurels of my highly auspicious career:
(via Cross Results)
Alas, since I seldom do the cyclocrossing these days I no longer have a proper cyclocross bike. This means on the rare occasions I do partake in a race I need to piece something together for the occasion, kind of like when you get invited to a wedding and realize you don't own an actual suit. For last year's race at Rainey Park I re-configured my travel bike in singlespeed guise, thusly:
I liked the idea of riding the singlespeed race again and would have happily used this bike to do so, albeit with a much lower gear because I really screwed up in that department last year. However, the singlespeed race was the first race of the day, and this year my older son was going to be racing as well. Therefore I opted for a later race that would afford us time to leave home at a decent hour, allow me to get him all sorted out first, and then race myself after he was done, thus necessitating a geared bike for me. So I decided to use the Jones Plus LWB:
I've had great results using the SWB in this capacity. (I mean "great results" as in "the bike was great and I had a lot of fun," not as in "I won the race.") However, the Rainey course is quite twisty owing to the diminutive size of the park (make no mistake, they make a fantastic course given what they have to work with), and I wondered if the LWB might feel unwieldy and awkward due to its ample proportions.
It did not.
As with the SWB, the Velcro-like grip was revelatory in a cyclocross context, and as stable as the handling is the bike also went around those tight corners like a tetherball. Not only that, but I was also able to hop the barriers instead of dismounting. In fact, for my purposes it was better than a cyclocross bike, and the only time I might have preferred one was when I carried the Jones up the stairs, since it probably weighs about twice as much as your garden variety Ridley:
But even this turned out to be a non-issue. After a couple of laps, a bystander told me to ride up the stairs instead (people like to yell at you to do stuff when you're riding a bike like this in a cyclocross race), so the next time around I rode up the grass on the right-hand side. The bystander then told me they meant I should ride up the actual stairs themselves, and while a better rider could probably do that on the Jones, I'm not that rider. So for the rest of the race I just continued to ride up the grass, though afterwards I noticed someone moved the stake at the bottom so that it blocked the line (you can see this in the photo), most likely to obviate such unscrupulous behavior by others for the remainder of the day.
Anyway, the upshot of my ethically dubious line choice was that I could ride the entire course without having to lift my bicycle or even put my foot down, which no doubt had a positive impact on my finishing position. See, on a regular cyclocross bike I would certainly have finished dead last (I may suck at riding but the running really kills me), but on the Jones I finished a few riders ahead of dead last. Also, a photographer was kind enough to send me some photos of myself in action, including one with other riders nearby so I can pretend like I was actually in contention:
[Photo courtesy of @shatterkiss]
In reality, however, everyone rode away from me pretty quickly and most of the time it was just me, like this:
[Photo courtesy of @shatterkiss]
In all it was a great day; not only did I have lots of fun bringing up the rear on my comically oversized bicycle, but my son also lined up and successfully completed what was probably the most physically difficult undertaking of his life so far--in jeans! I only wish they held this race every weekend, though given the work involved I suspect as far as the promoter is concerned once a year is plenty. And even if there was a local cross race like this every weekend I'd certainly have no need for a cyclocross bike, since the Jones picks up where my road bike leaves off quite seamlessly.
If only my transitions were so seamless.
Just as people don't usually associate the Ozarks with bagels (sorry, couldn't help it), they also don't tend to associate New York City with cyclocross. However, over the years we've had a cross race on Staten Island (now defunct, alas), there is a long-running practice on Randall's Island, and now with Rainey Park on the calendar you can race right there on the East River with the New York City skyline for a backdrop in a venue that's easy to access by bike or public transportation.
These days, I'm mostly retired from cyclocross, choosing mostly to rest on the laurels of my highly auspicious career:
(via Cross Results)Alas, since I seldom do the cyclocrossing these days I no longer have a proper cyclocross bike. This means on the rare occasions I do partake in a race I need to piece something together for the occasion, kind of like when you get invited to a wedding and realize you don't own an actual suit. For last year's race at Rainey Park I re-configured my travel bike in singlespeed guise, thusly:
I liked the idea of riding the singlespeed race again and would have happily used this bike to do so, albeit with a much lower gear because I really screwed up in that department last year. However, the singlespeed race was the first race of the day, and this year my older son was going to be racing as well. Therefore I opted for a later race that would afford us time to leave home at a decent hour, allow me to get him all sorted out first, and then race myself after he was done, thus necessitating a geared bike for me. So I decided to use the Jones Plus LWB:
I've had great results using the SWB in this capacity. (I mean "great results" as in "the bike was great and I had a lot of fun," not as in "I won the race.") However, the Rainey course is quite twisty owing to the diminutive size of the park (make no mistake, they make a fantastic course given what they have to work with), and I wondered if the LWB might feel unwieldy and awkward due to its ample proportions.
It did not.
As with the SWB, the Velcro-like grip was revelatory in a cyclocross context, and as stable as the handling is the bike also went around those tight corners like a tetherball. Not only that, but I was also able to hop the barriers instead of dismounting. In fact, for my purposes it was better than a cyclocross bike, and the only time I might have preferred one was when I carried the Jones up the stairs, since it probably weighs about twice as much as your garden variety Ridley:
But even this turned out to be a non-issue. After a couple of laps, a bystander told me to ride up the stairs instead (people like to yell at you to do stuff when you're riding a bike like this in a cyclocross race), so the next time around I rode up the grass on the right-hand side. The bystander then told me they meant I should ride up the actual stairs themselves, and while a better rider could probably do that on the Jones, I'm not that rider. So for the rest of the race I just continued to ride up the grass, though afterwards I noticed someone moved the stake at the bottom so that it blocked the line (you can see this in the photo), most likely to obviate such unscrupulous behavior by others for the remainder of the day.
Anyway, the upshot of my ethically dubious line choice was that I could ride the entire course without having to lift my bicycle or even put my foot down, which no doubt had a positive impact on my finishing position. See, on a regular cyclocross bike I would certainly have finished dead last (I may suck at riding but the running really kills me), but on the Jones I finished a few riders ahead of dead last. Also, a photographer was kind enough to send me some photos of myself in action, including one with other riders nearby so I can pretend like I was actually in contention:
[Photo courtesy of @shatterkiss]In reality, however, everyone rode away from me pretty quickly and most of the time it was just me, like this:
[Photo courtesy of @shatterkiss]In all it was a great day; not only did I have lots of fun bringing up the rear on my comically oversized bicycle, but my son also lined up and successfully completed what was probably the most physically difficult undertaking of his life so far--in jeans! I only wish they held this race every weekend, though given the work involved I suspect as far as the promoter is concerned once a year is plenty. And even if there was a local cross race like this every weekend I'd certainly have no need for a cyclocross bike, since the Jones picks up where my road bike leaves off quite seamlessly.
If only my transitions were so seamless.
November 22, 2019
"I deeply regret any distress that my comments may have caused you, or your family, and I hereby undertake not to repeat any such slander at any time in the future."
Well, despite my best efforts to use the Tresca for my wet rides and spare my other bikes the indignity of moisture, today I got caught in the rain on my New-To-Me Titanium Forever Bike, shown here shortly before the first drops fell:
You know those rides where it starts raining and you think maybe you should turn around because you've already gotten a good ride in, but then you also think, "Hey, it's raining anyway so I might as well keep going," so you do in fact keep going and by the time you get home your feet are frozen because you didn't wear shoe covers? Well it was one of those.
Even so, it was an enjoyable ride, and thanks to the dated ceramic coating technology on my dated wheels I didn't have black rim grime all over my tire sidewall afterwards:
Not only that, but there was barely any pad wear:
I guess the idea of ceramic rim coating still lives on as Mavic's "Exalith" treatment, but as discs continue to take over I suppose all of this is of rapidly decreasing relevance.
In other news, as I mentioned Wednesday, I wrote a little feature for Outside about my trip to Bentonville this past summer. As someone who writes on the Internet I expect criticism and make a little game of trying to anticipate what shape it will take with each new endeavor. In this case I mostly figured I'd get crap for saying positive things about Bentonville, and I did indeed--though not quite in the way I expected:
Is it really so odd to find this juxtaposition incongruous? Did I miss something and the rest of the world associates the Ozark Mountains with bagels? And it's not just an Arkansas thing; frankly I'm equally surprised when I find bagel places in California or any other place far from the New York City metropolitan area, for two reasons:
1) Attempts to export the bagel are generally unsuccessful (and that's not even counting all the shitty bagels right here in New York);
2) I'm not sure why they even bother exporting the concept because frankly bagels are overrated anyway.
Now, at the risk of eliciting more gasps, I am in no way suggesting Ozark Mountain Bagel Co. does not make a good bagel. For all I know they may be the best in the world. However, I didn't try them because I've developed a wheat allergy for some reason (if you remember my hives it turns out that's why I was getting them) and no longer eat bagels. Furthermore, because I no longer eat bagels, I've now come to understand they're basically overrated gut bombs, and really what I miss most about them is how convenient and ubiquitous they are. (It turns out you can even get them in Arkansas.)
Of course, you may be tempted to point out I only think bagels are overrated because I can't eat them anymore, and that I'm suffering from sour grapes syndrome. (Or, if you prefer, stale bagel syndrome.) This may very well be so. Nevertheless, allowing that this may be true, and also allowing that Ozark Mountain Bagel Co. may very well be the best bagel shop in the world, I was still amused to find a bagel place in Arkansas. Sorry.
I can't tell if she's annoyed because I should have expected to find a restaurant in Bentonville that was pretty much identical to every third restaurant in Brooklyn, or if she's annoyed that I ate in a restaurant in Bentonville that was pretty much identical to every restaurant in Brooklyn and liked it. Granted, she could be annoyed that I ordered my hamburger on gluten-free bread (lots of people do find that annoying), but I really didn't feel like having a gigantic hive attack on those fantastic Bentonville mountain bike trails. As for how I was feeling in that restaurant, honestly I was one-third disappointed that downtown Bentonville was so similar to Brooklyn, one-third disappointed in myself for really liking that it was so similar to Brooklyn, and one-third disappointed in myself for feeling so at home with what Brooklyn has now become. In short, I don't know what irony level she's working on, so it's hard for me to understand what made her gasp here.
Okay, this museum is absolutely amazing, and honestly it was the real revelation of the trip. I really did forget where I was because I was so wrapped up in it all, so it was funny in an endearing way when I'd hear someone explaining the art to somebody with an accent that brought me right back to Bentonville--and I'm not trying to be condescending at all. It would be no different if you were visiting the Guggenheim from Arkansas and Joe Bagadonuts from Bensonhurst was giving someone insightful commentary on Picasso in thick Brooklynese. Furthermore, your mentioning this in your subsequent article would elicit no gapsts from me.
This is true, at this point I felt like I was in Portland. But yes, I certainly should have realized that I was in Bentonville, and yes, my inability to reconcile these qualities with my preconceived notion of Bentonville is admittedly lame. I guess overall she's offended that I came to Bentonville and was like, "Wow, they have bikes and art and fancy food!" Fair enough. At the same time, we all have our preconceived notions of places we've never been, and we all often find those notions dashed upon the rocks of reality when we get there, which is what this story was all about.
More confusing to me than all of this is why she didn't include a link:
The article is published under my own name in a widely read publication. How is linking to that doxing? I'm not going to burst into that thread and interrupt the party but people are welcome to tweet angrily at me, I can take it. Still, it's more fun to watch people tweet among themselves:
Wow, he catches on quick. I mean it's right there in the headline:
Then again, in his defense there was no link, so he wouldn't know that.
Ugh. The Hamptons? Off-season? Puh-leeze.
There's culture in DC?
Uh, do I really need to note something that obvious? Anyway, I'm only pointing out it smells near Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport, which it does. Go check it out if you don't believe me. And that's not even meant as an insult--smell aside it's a really nice airport, and about a thousand times better than LaGuardia, where you just want to kill yourself immediately upon deplaning.
In any case, I'm sorry Bentonville confounded my expectations (not that I had bad expectations, just different ones) and that I think it's a great place. I've certainly heard of people visiting New York City and having their expectations confounded, like when they discover the "pushy New Yorker" thing is mostly BS and people here are generally very friendly and ready to give you directions (unless the subway doors are about to close, that is), and it seems to me that, when it comes to travel, confounded expectations is a good thing. And again, as far as my Bentonville story, the clueless rube is supposed to be me.
Anyway, if you do go to Bentonville, let me know how the bagels are.
You know those rides where it starts raining and you think maybe you should turn around because you've already gotten a good ride in, but then you also think, "Hey, it's raining anyway so I might as well keep going," so you do in fact keep going and by the time you get home your feet are frozen because you didn't wear shoe covers? Well it was one of those.
Even so, it was an enjoyable ride, and thanks to the dated ceramic coating technology on my dated wheels I didn't have black rim grime all over my tire sidewall afterwards:
Not only that, but there was barely any pad wear:
I guess the idea of ceramic rim coating still lives on as Mavic's "Exalith" treatment, but as discs continue to take over I suppose all of this is of rapidly decreasing relevance.
In other news, as I mentioned Wednesday, I wrote a little feature for Outside about my trip to Bentonville this past summer. As someone who writes on the Internet I expect criticism and make a little game of trying to anticipate what shape it will take with each new endeavor. In this case I mostly figured I'd get crap for saying positive things about Bentonville, and I did indeed--though not quite in the way I expected:
Hey, I get that someone from the area would find my "clueless New Yorker pleasantly surprised by Bentonville" take irritating. If anything I was poking fun at my own provincialism, and if that didn't come off then I guess I failed. Even so, I've been perusing the excerpts that apparently elicited gasps from her, and to be honest I'm still a bit confused. Consider this one:i really do appreciate that people from all over the world come to northwest arkansas and write about it because I think more people should generally know that arkansas is Good. but friends, I gasped SEVERAL times pic.twitter.com/6j2nVbLDYV
— Olivia Paschal (@oliviacpaschal) November 21, 2019
Is it really so odd to find this juxtaposition incongruous? Did I miss something and the rest of the world associates the Ozark Mountains with bagels? And it's not just an Arkansas thing; frankly I'm equally surprised when I find bagel places in California or any other place far from the New York City metropolitan area, for two reasons:
1) Attempts to export the bagel are generally unsuccessful (and that's not even counting all the shitty bagels right here in New York);
2) I'm not sure why they even bother exporting the concept because frankly bagels are overrated anyway.
Now, at the risk of eliciting more gasps, I am in no way suggesting Ozark Mountain Bagel Co. does not make a good bagel. For all I know they may be the best in the world. However, I didn't try them because I've developed a wheat allergy for some reason (if you remember my hives it turns out that's why I was getting them) and no longer eat bagels. Furthermore, because I no longer eat bagels, I've now come to understand they're basically overrated gut bombs, and really what I miss most about them is how convenient and ubiquitous they are. (It turns out you can even get them in Arkansas.)
Of course, you may be tempted to point out I only think bagels are overrated because I can't eat them anymore, and that I'm suffering from sour grapes syndrome. (Or, if you prefer, stale bagel syndrome.) This may very well be so. Nevertheless, allowing that this may be true, and also allowing that Ozark Mountain Bagel Co. may very well be the best bagel shop in the world, I was still amused to find a bagel place in Arkansas. Sorry.
I can't tell if she's annoyed because I should have expected to find a restaurant in Bentonville that was pretty much identical to every third restaurant in Brooklyn, or if she's annoyed that I ate in a restaurant in Bentonville that was pretty much identical to every restaurant in Brooklyn and liked it. Granted, she could be annoyed that I ordered my hamburger on gluten-free bread (lots of people do find that annoying), but I really didn't feel like having a gigantic hive attack on those fantastic Bentonville mountain bike trails. As for how I was feeling in that restaurant, honestly I was one-third disappointed that downtown Bentonville was so similar to Brooklyn, one-third disappointed in myself for really liking that it was so similar to Brooklyn, and one-third disappointed in myself for feeling so at home with what Brooklyn has now become. In short, I don't know what irony level she's working on, so it's hard for me to understand what made her gasp here.
Okay, this museum is absolutely amazing, and honestly it was the real revelation of the trip. I really did forget where I was because I was so wrapped up in it all, so it was funny in an endearing way when I'd hear someone explaining the art to somebody with an accent that brought me right back to Bentonville--and I'm not trying to be condescending at all. It would be no different if you were visiting the Guggenheim from Arkansas and Joe Bagadonuts from Bensonhurst was giving someone insightful commentary on Picasso in thick Brooklynese. Furthermore, your mentioning this in your subsequent article would elicit no gapsts from me.
This is true, at this point I felt like I was in Portland. But yes, I certainly should have realized that I was in Bentonville, and yes, my inability to reconcile these qualities with my preconceived notion of Bentonville is admittedly lame. I guess overall she's offended that I came to Bentonville and was like, "Wow, they have bikes and art and fancy food!" Fair enough. At the same time, we all have our preconceived notions of places we've never been, and we all often find those notions dashed upon the rocks of reality when we get there, which is what this story was all about.
More confusing to me than all of this is why she didn't include a link:
The article is published under my own name in a widely read publication. How is linking to that doxing? I'm not going to burst into that thread and interrupt the party but people are welcome to tweet angrily at me, I can take it. Still, it's more fun to watch people tweet among themselves:
Wow, he catches on quick. I mean it's right there in the headline:
Then again, in his defense there was no link, so he wouldn't know that.
Ugh. The Hamptons? Off-season? Puh-leeze.
There's culture in DC?
Uh, do I really need to note something that obvious? Anyway, I'm only pointing out it smells near Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport, which it does. Go check it out if you don't believe me. And that's not even meant as an insult--smell aside it's a really nice airport, and about a thousand times better than LaGuardia, where you just want to kill yourself immediately upon deplaning.In any case, I'm sorry Bentonville confounded my expectations (not that I had bad expectations, just different ones) and that I think it's a great place. I've certainly heard of people visiting New York City and having their expectations confounded, like when they discover the "pushy New Yorker" thing is mostly BS and people here are generally very friendly and ready to give you directions (unless the subway doors are about to close, that is), and it seems to me that, when it comes to travel, confounded expectations is a good thing. And again, as far as my Bentonville story, the clueless rube is supposed to be me.
Anyway, if you do go to Bentonville, let me know how the bagels are.
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