BikeSnobNYC's Blog, page 30

This Title Has A Pressure-Relieving [ ] Cutout In The MIddle!

Remember when it seemed like you couldn't go a day without reading a news story about how cycling purées your genitals into a state of total uselessness?  Well, my latest Outside column is about how that's a load of crap:



Hey, I'm not saying bad fit or technique can't cause extreme crotchal discomfort, but I am saying that the idea that we're all pedaling ourselves into complete asexuality is a conspiracy to keep people off bicycles--or to sell saddles with cutouts in them, I can't decide which.
Sort of like how helmet-shaming is a conspiracy to keep people off bicycles--or to sell more helmets, I can't decide which.
Also, a couple years back I took a family vacation to Californy, during which I borrowed a Marin Gestalt:

In addition to setting me up with the bike, Chris from Marin also outlined a delightful route for me, which happened to pass by a lovely little bakery.  Well, I recently received an email from him letting me know this happened:

At least six patrons suffered minor injuries after a car crashed Sunday afternoon into the popular Wild Flour Bread bakery in Freestone, the CHP said.
The crash involving a silver BMW hatchback was reported just after 12:30 p.m. The driver, who wasn’t identified, was pulling into a parking spot when he hit the accelerator instead of the brake and plowed into the Bohemian Highway bakery, CHP Sgt. Eric Iverson said.
“It was full of patrons,” he said.
You know how it is.  One minute you're making a mid-ride fuel stop, and the next you're picking glass out of your scone:

Fortunately, nobody's more helpful than cyclists:

Though I'm sure a lie about swerving to avoid one will be instrumental in the driver's defense.

I guess what I'm saying is that if this had happened two years ago and I didn't have a wheat allergy and had actually visited the bakery I could be dead right now.

Think about it.

Freds Like US

All great empires fall eventually, undone by unsustainable expansion, rebellion, or their own hubris:


(Dickus's inability to quell the unruly mob at Brian's crucifixion signaled the beginning of the end of the Roman empire.)
Given this, it was only a matter of time until the United States would meet a similar fate.  But what would be the final bolt in the faceplate?  The Trump administration?  The opioid epidemic?  A sudden realization among cats that they outnumber us and can overpower us at any time?

Hardly.

No, in the end, the history books will talk of how what was once the greatest democracy the world had ever seen was ultimately brought down by Freds:


Sensitive information about the location and staffing of military bases and spy outposts around the world has been revealed by a fitness tracking company.

The details were released by Strava in a data visualisation map that shows all the activity tracked by users of its app, which allows people to record their exercise and share it with others.

The map, released in November 2017, shows every single activity ever uploaded to Strava – more than 3 trillion individual GPS data points, according to the company. The app can be used on various devices including smartphones and fitness trackers like Fitbit to see popular running routes in major cities, or spot individuals in more remote areas who have unusual exercise patterns.

Those of us old enough to remember the Cold War were raised on tales of espionage in which spies monitored each other's movements by means of tracking devices.  Now, it turns out we're all just wearing the tracking devices ourselves.  Whereas once an operative might have had to crawl under a car and affix some sort of magnetic homing beacon, now all they have to do is give their subject a crabon road bike, making that Cipollini video from some years back oddly prescient:


Even more incredibly, you may be able to thank Freds for finally proving the existence of aliens:

Outside direct conflict zones, potentially sensitive information can still be gleaned. For instance, a map of Homey Airport, Nevada – the US Air Force base commonly known as Area 51 – records a lone cyclist taking a ride from the base along the west edge of Groom Lake, marked on the heatmap by a thin red line.



Some of the photos on that guy's feed are super creepy:


It's common knowledge among conspiracy Freds that the US government has identified an alloy from a downed alien spacecraft that will yield frames of heretofore unimaginable lateral strength and vertical compliance.  As it turns out however, the aliens themselves are total retrogrouches, which is why Grant Petersen has a secret government contract to design a lug that will work with this interstellar tubing.

And you thought the Strava heat map was only good for finding those secret mountain bike spots.

Speaking of riding all-terrain bicycles, last Friday I headed out on Ol' Piney, which is of course the only bike I'll be riding this year (apart from the wooden bike, and the Yuba I'm testing, and...):


Being utterly self-absorbed I don't help maintain the trails I ride, so I figure the very least I can do is stay off of them when they're muddy.  We've had some warm days recently, but Friday was cold, so I knew things should be as firm as Cipollini's abdomen.  Unfortunately others had not been so considerate, and the trails were covered with frozen ruts, rendering them as bumpy and craggy as, well, Cipollini's abdomen:


It seems fairly simple to me: when you get a freakishly warm day in January go for a road ride, and when it's really cold out go for a mountain bike ride where you'll stay warm and protected from the wind.  Unfortunately the fair-weather mountain bros don't see it that way and the more scrupulous among us have to ride over their mess.  Then on my way home, I came across this:

Presumably on a warmer day this savvy driver ventured onto the trail when it was nice and soft thanks to all that melted snow and got stuck:


This particular trail happens to be a state park, and of course motor vehicles are not allowed on it, but I'm sure he was on urgent park business for the city of Yonkers:


Looks like he's got some violations in the City of New York as well:


And hey, whaddya know, that speeding violation was in front of my kid's school.

Prick.

I may have to go back there and see if I can ride Ol' Piney over it.

Finally, you'll be pleased to know the Yuba Supermarché continues to be fun for the whole family:


Kiddie seats are great, but if you've got the space to store a barge like this there's nothing more convenient than letting your kids hop in and out of a large box.

Hauling In The Cargo Bike

Back in December, subsequent to my Outside column about how driving your kids to school sucks, a PR person contacted me and asked if I'd like to try a Yuba cargo bike.  Attached were photos of flannel-clad people happily hauling their human children, like this one:


Naturally I replied in the affirmative, and the models that came up were the Spicy Curry:

And the Supermarché:


I'd been itching to try an electric cargo bike since I live in the New York City hill country, and so exited was I to partake of a loaner that I failed to carefully read the specifications on both bikes.  In short, I assumed both bikes had electric assists, and so I ended up accepting the Supermarché.

Anyway, recently I got word that the bike was ready for me, and so I headed out to 718 Cyclery in Brooklyn to pick it up:


718 is an interesting shop.  Not only did they organize that fat bike race in Queens I rode awhile back:


But they also sell both Rivendell and Jones, as well as all manner of mixed-terrain, gravelly, au courant bicycles:


Grant Petersen and Jeff Jones are my two favorite single-minded bicycle designers, and any shop that offers bikes from both is alright with me.

And so it was that yesterday I headed out to 718 by subway to pick up the Supermarché.  It's well over an hour by subway from my manse on the mainland to that part of Brooklyn, which is something I once would have dreaded, but as a parent of seventeen (17) children I now relish such journeys as I can just sit there and listen to music without children pestering me for Goldfish crackers every ten seconds.  (Someone really needs to invent a Golfish feedback you can strap to your child's face.)  Given this, I arrived at 718 with a spring in my step, and you'd think I'd just undergone a spa treatment and not a subterranean train journey on plastic seats.  And there it was:


This was when I realized the bicycle didn't have an electric assist.

I was disappointed for two (2) reasons: 1) After years of child-schlepping I'm about ready for some goddamn help; and B) I had a 20-mile ride back to the Bronx ahead of me.  More specifically, I had to be home to meet my son's schoolbus and I'd been banking on that electronic tailwind to ensure my punctuality.

Given the above, I briefly considered declining the bike.  However, after taking a quick spin around the block I found the ride quality to be considerably more spry than I'd expected, and so I threw my backpack into the bamboo box (a $250 add-on if you're wondering) and off I went.

At this point, I should share with you my box bike riding credentials up to this point.  My first experience with a bakfiets was back in 2011 when my family and I went to Amsterdam and I borrowed one from WorkCycles:


It was on that trip that the pie plates fell from my eyes and I went Full Smug.  I even wrote a book about it:


That video, incidentally, represents my second experience with a bakfiets.  See, we shot it in San Francisco and I had to pedal that goddamn thing all over town for two days.  Real actors get a trailer, whereas bike bloggers have to transport their own props, as well as the equipment.

Anyway, despite its superficial resemblance to the bikes above the Yuba is different in a crucial way.  While the full-on Dutch style bakfiets has roller brakes, internal gearing, and a chain case, the Yuba has mountain bike hydraulic disc brakes, derailleurs, and an exposed chain.  (It also doesn't have a wheel lock, though there are tabs for one that you can buy from Yuba.)

Basically, the advantages of this drivetrain arrangement are as follows:
Wide range of gearsEasier to maintainProbably lighterThe disadvantages are:Exposed drivetrains are less friendly to toddlers and trousersThe bike can't live outside for long periods of timeThat second point in particular means the Yuba is sort of a non-starter if you don't have indoor storage for it, and overall the Yuba is more of a "sports cargo bike" than a full-on Euro-style smugness flotilla--which is not a bad thing at all as long as you've got a place to keep it.  Certainly if you're coming from a recreational cycling background you'll appreciate the bike's sporting nature as it rides more like what you're used to, and you can also configure it in various ways that don't involve having a big tub up front:
 
In other words, it's a cargo bike for Americans.
As for riding it in the city, like any large bike you're not exactly weaving through any traffic jams:

And bike lane encroachments are that much more infuriating:


However, when you've got the full lane the bike's very pleasant to ride:


There are a few things you've got to get used to when riding a big bike with a box on the front though.  For one thing, there are lots of questions:

Most common questions you get on a cargo bike with a wooden box on the front:
3) How much did it cost?
2) Did you make that?
1) Can I hop in?— Bike Snob NYC (@bikesnobnyc) January 24, 2018

For another, you've got to remember to stop early at lights so you don't encroach on the crosswalk with your giant proboscis:


Also, while you grow accustomed to it quickly, those first few slow-speed turns feel really weird.  (This is true of every long front-loader I've ridden.)

And of course parking it's a little more involved than leaning it against a pole and throwing a u-lock on it, but if you've ever dealt with a motorcycle it's no biggie:


I didn't even miss the lack of an electric motor--until I realized that if I kept futzing around I was going to miss my kid's schoolbus.  So I headed over to the West Side Greenway and engaged the afterburners:


Unfortunately, due to a meteorological phenomenon I don't really understand, there is always--always--a headwind on the Greenway no matter which way you're heading.  Furthermore, the phenomenon doesn't affect everyone, because when you're flailing into a headwind as I was, your artisanal bamboo box failing to cut through it like a paper knife through a day-old steak, the oncoming Freds are sailing with the wind at their backs with that smugly delusional expression you wear when you think you're actually fast.

It was getting dicey there for awhile, but I put my head down and hammered.  I worried for awhile that I was going to have to lock the bike up and jump in an Uber or something, but with considerable effort I made all my splits: the Fairway at 2:00, the GWB at 2:20, and so on.  By Dyckman Street I was fairly confident I had it in the bag, and even briefly contemplated stopping in the bike shop for some brake pads:


But I know all too well the dangers of putting your arms up early, plus I still had the little rise at Seaman and Cumming to contend with:


In the end though I made it to the bus stop with a few extra minutes to catch my breath, and in case you're wondering YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT I STRAVA'D IT:

I put the hammer down like a contractor when the check bounces.

Of course, it's only been a day, but I'm pleased to report the bike's already a big hit with the kids.  Here's a shot from the passenger area:


We're gonna make some sick edits.

Gone Schlepping

Good morning!

As much as I'd like to lounge here in the conversation pit with you I have to go all the way to Brooklyn to pick up a bicycle for testing:


The 20-mile return trip should give me ample opportunity to get acquainted with it, but little time to type words into this bloghole.
In the meantime, I invite you to ponder the actions of one Charlie Butt of Australia:

@bikesnobnyc Only in ‘Straya https://t.co/Pb3ELeogBl— Ian Mac (@gyroscopix) January 24, 2018

May a kangaroo tear open his scrotum like a kid ripping open a bag of Hanukkah gelt:

(If you've ever done it you know what I'm talking about.)
I love you,


--Wildcat Rock Machine

Wood That I Could

You may remember that last week I posted about SRAM's mustache-rich promotional video for their new DUB crank interface:


While I speculated that SRAM may have some sort of facial hair-related hiring policy, one commenter pointed out the following:

Anonymous said...

FYI - Yes it was filmed in November (read the YouTube description). No, it was not a corporate challenge. It was a charitable challenge honoring a co-worker who had passed.

January 23, 2018 at 1:19 AM

Well now don't I feel like a douche:


In any case, while I was wallowing in the comments, I also came across this:

Anonymous said...

I have also found the square taper to be reliable. And cheap. When it is improved upon I will stop being a retrogrouch.

JANUARY 19, 2018 AT 9:01 PM

Nothing against square taper, but it has been improved upon:


Hollowtech II uses the same bottom bracket shell and makes installing and removing cranks about as complicated as adjusting your threadless stem.  Plus, since it's external, the bottom bracket itself is a lot easier to install and remove.  I'd call that an improvement--certainly not an "I'm gonna change all my bikes over immediately!" improvement, but easily an "On my new bike I'm gonna go with..." improvement.

I will entertain no additional opinions on this matter, and if you're tempted to leave a comment about how square taper bottom brackets allow you to adjust your chainline I invite you to send it here.

Then there was this comment:

Jojo Potato said...

Why are mountain bikers in videos with pounding music always going downhill?

JANUARY 18, 2018 AT 10:15 PM

Because going downhill on a mountain bike looks cool and going uphill doesn't:



Moving onto more roadlier matters, as I mentioned yesterday I've been doing some intensive testing on the Renovo Aerowood, aka the "Loophole Bike," shown here with my finger in the shot:


And please note that's "Loophole Bike," not "Knothole Bike:"


No knotholes in the Renovo, so if you're a squirrely rider you're gonna have to find someplace else to hide your nuts:


Sorry.

In any case, the dead of winter may not be an ideal time to test an aero bike with skinny tires:


Nevertheless, now that I've sorted out the creaking (as I mentioned, it turned out the bottom bracket simply needed tightening--which was very easy since it's a Hollowtech II with a threaded shell) I've been riding it regularly, and so seductive is this exotic wooden bicycle that my inner Fred, dormant for years, is now sprouting anew from the frozen earth.  Yes, it's true: while at first I thought the bike had kind of a deluxe backgammon set aesthetic that was at odds with my recent affinity for unhurried riding on pragmatic metal bikes, I must admit I now find myself beaming from the sense of self-satisfaction that comes from riding an esoteric Fred Toboggan.  Indeed, as I pedal, I'm transported 20 years back in time, when I used to look covetously at the older riders astride their Calfees and Colnagos and tally up the components in my head.  "Perhaps one day that will be me," I used to pine.  "Successful, busy with children and career, yet able to reward myself with an expensive bicycle and--most importantly--also still able to hammer."

Well, here I am: I've got the kids and I've got the expensive bike (on loan anyway), and while I may not have a career, be successful, or even be able to hammer, it turns out none of that really matters that much when you've got a couple decent kids and a sweet bike.

Basically riding the Renovo makes me feel like I've arrived, despite having never gotten up off my ass.

So yes, I'm here to confess that this bicycle has managed to rekindle my inner Fred.  Moreover, between this and Ol' Piney I'm currently existing in an ambiguous Schrödinger's cat-like state, suspended between monied master douchedom and jorted, fat-tired dirtbagitude.  Of course I'll fully revert to the latter when it's time to send the Renovo back, but until then I'm enjoying the paradox.

As for the particulars of the bike, it rides beautifully, as you'd expect from a well-fitting bike with high-end components.  My experiments with wheel-swapping also indicate it preserves this ride quality even when fitted with wheels costing roughly 1/10th of the price of the crabon wheels with which it came.  (Not to mention the metal wheels result in much better braking.  While the crabon wheels stop acceptably, they're nowhere near as smooth as metal rims, and they continue to shriek intermittently which is, quite frankly, antisocial.)

As for the cost of the bike, as the discount perineum salesman says, "Taint cheap:"


But let's just say you have actually arrived in life, and you want to blow a bitcoin on a road bike that will draw attention to you.  Here's comparably priced bicycle:



On one hand it's got Dura Ace instead of Ultegra, but on the other hand it's not from Portland and made of wood.  And if you've got a globe that opens up into a bar, you're gonna want to go for the latter:


Anyway, now that I've taken delivery of an 11-speed cassette I plan to configure the metal wheels for the Loophole Bike and continue riding into the spring and summer when I can truly unleash my pent-up Fredness upon the world, and like it or not I'll continue to keep you apprised of my exploits.  (Of course, they might want the bike back before then, but I'd like to see them try to get it.  Portlanders don't scare me.)  And watch out, because already over the weekend I bagged my first Strava KOM!


That is 100% a Strava error since I actually made a right before reaching the very top of the climb but I'll be goddamned if I'm gonna report myself.

So there.

Put On Your Coats, It's Time To Go Outside!

Good morning!  Isn't it great to be alive?  Here's my latest Outside column, which is about how our mayor is waging a misguided war on ebikes:



There are many reasons I continue to make this town my home, but certainly one of the main ones is the astounding level of governmental graft and hypocrisy.
Anyway, go ahead and chew on that, and I'll be back tomorrow with an update on the Loophole Bike:

Note that my finger managed to encroach on the shot, and it's just this level of professionalism on my part that compels people to send me expensive bicycles to review.  
Until then,
I remain,
You'rs Truely,

--Wildcat Rock Machine

Sawdust in the Wind

As you know, I'm a conssie connoiss  guy who knows a lot about wooden bikes, so I watched this with interest:



Just a tip for those of you looking to join me on the timber express, whichever bike you choose just make sure it's hand-blown:


See, a lot of builders cut corners by vacuuming the sawdust:


You may think it's all the same, but I can assure you the difference in ride quality between hand-blown and auto-sucked is readily discernible to the wood aficianado officianado expert.  If you're really looking for that soulful feel that only wood can give, there's really no substitute for a frame that's been lovingly exhaled upon by a builder whose breath carries the faint scent of single malt scotch and salami.  It works its way into the woodgrain and results in something I can only call magic.
Speaking of wood bikes, you're of course familiar by now with the Renovo--or, as I call it, the Loophole Bike, since it allows me to skirt my onerous one-bike resolution:

Well, the Renovo is equipped with Di2 electronic shifting, about which I have mixed feelings.  On one foot, there's no denying this stuff feels really nice.  On the other, I can't help feeling a bit of range anxiety as, unlike your phone, there's no battery life indicator.  (Yes, you can press the shifter and an indicator light will sort of tell you the battery life in Morse code, but it's not the same as an actual picture of a battery.)  Plus, as a Di2 novice, I have yet to use up my first charge, and therefore I have no idea how many miles to expect out of it.  In a way it's like riding a motorcycle without a fuel gauge, in that it takes you a few tanks to get a feel for how many miles you'll get out of a fill-up.  And, in another way it's like the miracle of Hanukkah in that I haven't charged the bike since I received it yet the battery indicator still says it's full.  (Though of course between blizzards and eliminating the source of that pesky creak I've only got a couple hundred miles on it.)
Then there's the actual charging.  See, I live in an apartment building, yet unlike most New Yorkers I refuse to keep my bikes inside my actual apartment.  (With the exception of the Brompton which lives by the coat rack.)  Fortunately we have a bike room in the basement, where I am able to house my stable in conditions that, while somewhat squalid, still beat tripping over the damn things.  Alas, there is no power outlet in the bike room, meaning that in order to charge the bike I'd have to bring it upstairs.  This is a problem, because not only is it annoying, but also once the bike is exposed to the luxurious conditions in my home it may never want to back to its subterranean hole.


(Me lowering supplies to my bikes.  Unlike most Freds I do not coddle them.)
Anyway, when it comes time to juice up the hand-blown Fred Sled (more of a wooden toboggan, really) I may have a solution:


It's a little portable powerbank thingy my kid got at Five Below.  I figure if I just plug the Shimano charger into the USB port I should be all set.  Of course, if there's a reason I shouldn't do this and the wooden bike will burst into flames, feel free to let me know.  Otherwise, not only am I going to use this to charge the Loophole Bike, but I'm also going to back to Five Below, buy a whole bunch more, and sell them to Freds at a 500% markup.

Moving on, I've not been paying much attention to the controversy over Chris Froome's salbutamol test, but you can be sure that VeloNews have been, and I guess he's been claiming it's the result of kidney failure or something:
In case you missed it, French newspaper L’Equipe reported on Tuesday that Chris Froome and Sky are considering a legal defense that argues his adverse analytical finding for salbutamol was the result of kidney failure.
Yes, kidney failure.
In making such a claim, Froome and Sky are of course engaging in the time-honored cycling tradition of making baroque excuses:
It appears that the British team is prepared to take its anti-doping cases into the realm of what I refer to as the “head-slap zone.” That’s the realm in which the explanations are so unlikely and far-fetched that even casual cycling fans slap their heads in amazement. Yes, this is the realm of Tyler Hamilton’s chimeric vanishing twin, Lance Armstrong’s French conspiracy, Raimondas Rumsas’s “The steroids were for my mother-in-law,” Adrie van der Poel eating juiced pigeons, or Gilberto Simoni taking a cocaine cough drop from Peru. Simply reading those excuses in succession makes me want to slap my head.
There, I just slapped myself.
Ultimately, there are only two conclusions to draw from all of this:

1) If even half the claims Froome has made during his career are true then he is by far the sickest athlete on the planet.  Asthma?  Dodgy kidneys?  Blood-borne parasites?  At this point I'm just waiting for Sky to claim he's clinically dead--which seems fairly plausible actually since the guy looks positively vampiric:


2) Anybody who still has the mental energy to expend on all of this stuff (specifically cycling fans and people who write for publications like VeloNews) should probably seek treatment for obsessive-compulsive disorder.  Or, you know, at least take up birdwatching or something.  Why these people want to basically shrink themselves down and live in these riders' bodies is beyond me.


Speaking of doping, Lance Armstrong says it costs him $100 million to confess his doping to president-elect Oprah Winfrey:


USA Today quoted Armstrong as saying via email that the confession had cost him "in excess of 100 mil". In the days after his confession, long-term sponsors such as Oakley, Trek and others suddenly dropped their huge endorsements and sponsorship, massively reducing his income.
But, you know, he did get a podcast out of it, so there you go.

As Jesus said, "Let the Fred who's ever had $100 million to lose cast the first stone:"


Ah-meh and Holy Luau.

Blog Titles Are Like Mustaches And I Decided To Shave This One Off

First of all, more than anything, I'm extremely excited about the new SRAM DUB bottom bracket interface.  Is it because of the blah blah compatibility with the blah blah blah?  Hardly. As far as I'm concerned cranks and bottom brackets attained perfection with the Hollowtech II system and everything else is just noise.  (Literally, given the press-fit systems' propensity for creaking.)

No, I'm excited about DUB because keeping abreast of the latest bro fashions is very important to me, and now that the fixie edit is a thing of the past bike tech videos are my only window into the world of male style.  And from what I can tell, either mustaches are very in right now, or else you've got to have one to work at SRAM:



There was this one:


And this one:


And this one:


And of course, incredibly, this one:


Looks like something Rivendell would commission from Nitto.

That's the lab manager, by the way:


From what I understand, in order to curate his mustache he stuck his face in the Lynx 220L and fashioned it with a lathe:


Here's a closeup:


Amazing.

Then there was this suspiciously bare-faced test lab technician, who may in fact be a Shimano spy:


When you're under suspicion of corporate espionage at SRAM they make you ride around and around on the test track until you crack:


Here's someone with a mustache and a pencil behind his ear:


A pencil behind your ear makes you look smart, and a wispy mustache doesn't, so they effectively cancel each other out.

Honestly though, I haven't seen that many mustaches in one place since the "Scorcher Squad" got together for a group photo in 1899:


Even their helmets have mustaches:


Moving on, yesterday I took a ride on Ol' Piney, configured as the Good Lob intended--with chubby knobbies:


I'm beginning to suspect that switching back and forth between wheels may be a waste of time and it makes more sense to just leave it as is, but I'm going to keep messing around with it anyway in the name of science.


Speaking of epic rides, you'll no doubt be delighted to know that the organizers of Dirty Kanza have added a 350-mile route:


DKXL riders will depart at 4 p.m. on Friday, June 1, from the All Things Gravel Expo in downtown Emporia. They are expected to complete the 350-mile trek sometime Saturday evening, around the same time DK200 riders are completing their 200-mile challenge. DKXL participants will be totally self-supported during the entire 350-mile challenge, having to rely solely on convenience stores along the route for any resupply. For navigation, riders will rely on GPS route files, along with maps and cue sheets provided by the event promoters.

Alas, the route is limited to 34 riders, but I have some good news for you: I'm pleased to announce that my next Gran Fondon't will feature a 400 mile option!  Not only is that fifty (50) more miles than the DKXL, but my ride is also completely unsupported--and best of all there's no rider cap!  All you have to do is show up at my place around noon-ish, give me fifty bucks, and in return I'll give you a detailed route sheet:



Then you're free to fuck off.

Oh, and be sure to drop me a line and tell me who won.

Finally, today is Muhammad Ali's birthday.  Ali was of course a sports icon, a conscientious objector, an activist, a philanthropist, a humanitarian--and, in Portland, a white guy, apparently:

“If my mind can conceive it, and my heart can believe it - then I can achieve it.” #muhammadali #thegreatest #peopleschamp #happybirthday #pdxbikes #PDXtraffic pic.twitter.com/WGau8o17LE

— Portland Bureau of Transportation (@PBOTinfo) January 17, 2018

I'm sure that's exactly how he'd have liked to be remembered.

There Will Absolutely Be A Friday Fun Quiz, Just Not Today

Wow, I can't believe it, there's only one outraged comment on Outside's Facebook post for my latest column!



Rebecca Ruth Why on earth would you want to. Won’t bother reading this one. What will they think of next.

You know, Rebecca, if you actually read the column you might find out why on earth you'd want...oh never mind.
My Marty Golden column similarly appears to have elicited the ire of only one lone malcontent:

Mitch Walker Would you PLEASE focus on outdoor articles. NOT politics. I’m about to write the CEO of the publishing company.
Uh-oh!
And my column was merely the latest in a series of indignities to which Mitch has been subjected by Outside.  He also had to witness a picture of two similarly-gendered people sharing a single sleeping bag:
Mitch Walker Between this article and the one last week featuring two guys in a sleeping bag (which I don’t agree with but it’s the way the millennial a operate LOL), the mags comment “get over it,” the company needs to clean up its image. Highly unprofessional
I don't know what's dumber: getting freaked out by two guys in a sleeping bag, or blaming everything you don't like on "millennials."
None of which is to imply Mitch is some sort of idiot, of course:
Mitch Walker How about all of you suck a fucking dick
Just kidding, he clearly is.

Anyway, clearly I've got to get these people more angry, and a column about how riding carbon fiber causes birth defects should do it.  (Especially if I emphasize that you should have the right to terminate that pregnancy.)
Speaking of only riding one bike for a year, you'll no doubt be fascinated to know that I'm in the midst of curating a pair of "road" wheels for Ol' Piney:

I had some Bruce Gordon Rock n' Road tires lying around, and I had some 29er wheels lying around.  Now all I've got to do is install the 180mm front rotor and ridiculously huge 11-42 cassette I just received and then wait for some of this fucking snow to melt:

I did take a very short spin today and it was a total shitshow out there.  The trails are too snowy to ride even with my chubby tires*, and the streets are a slushy mess besieged by impatient and inept drivers.  I mean seriously, how the hell do you rear-end a Department of Sanitation snowplow?  I don't know, but the idiot in the SUV with the Georgia plates somehow managed to pull it off.  
*[And no, I'm NOT GETTING A FAT BIKE!  That wouldn't have helped either, because I don't see anyone grooming the trails for me anytime soon.]
Finally, sometimes I worry that time and the Portlandia TV series have mellowed Portland, but then along comes someone who's crowfunding a project to film Cyclocross Nationals on Super 8 film:

Super 8 CX Nationals Project from Local Cycling Network on Vimeo.

If there's one thing the world needs more of it's niche sports filmed with obsolete equipment, and it probably won't surprise you to learn that the filmmaker is painfully earnest about this project:


Or that Super 8 film looks like crap:

So crappy in fact that you can barely make out the bunny ears:


Still, of course I understand it's not about the quality, it's about getting together afterwards and watching it while drinking craft brews and twirling the ends of your waxed mustache. 

I wish him nothing but the best, and I look forward to his next fundraising campaign, which will no doubt involve bike polo and Polaroid portraiture.

Hey, Wouldya Look At That, It's Another Outside Column!

And it's no ordinary column, either.  It's a column about how I'm going to undertake a challenge so daunting, so profound, and so un-Fredly that I daresay no other bikey media doofus would ever dare attempt it.  Yes, that's right, for one whole year I'm only going to ride one bike*:



*[With certain exceptions of course, because come on.]

This isn't some gimmick where I'm going to go out and find the perfect do-everything, only-bike-you'll-ever-need bike, either.  (Everybody knows that the whole "only bike you'll ever need" thing is a myth invented by the bike industry to sell people like me their 14th bike anyway.)  Nope, I had to choose an existing bike from among my vast velocipedal holdings, and what I decided to go with was Ol' Piney:

Is this because I think Ol' Piney represents the perfect bicycle?  Certainly not.  This is the perfect bicycle:

However, of all my bikes I suspect Ol' Piney is the one that will allow me to partake in all my currently preferred styles of recreational riding without really missing anything.  Obviously it's got the offroad stuff covered, and with a quick wheel swap I think I'll be covered for the more road-oriented rides too--especially since I'm not exactly getting Lycra-ed up and slotting into any pacelines these days.  Plus, my one-bike resolution conveniently includes a review bike loophole, so once I resume testing on the wooden bike I'll have an opportunity to indulge my inner Fred if I so choose.
Anyway, with regard to outfitting Ol' Piney for the road, I'll be adapting my old 29er wheels for that purpose, and I'm hoping that switching between those and the full-on chubby wheels should just about cover me--despite what some may think:

So doable, but picked the wrong kind of bike I think. Check out our A.D.D, it’s made for this: road, cx, gravel, and MTB 650b. #onebike— Van Dessel Cycles (@Van_Dessel) January 4, 2018

Yeah, looks like a fun bike but for this particular stunt I don't think so:.  

We may be the only bike company in the world to suggest you only need to own a single bike. But having pioneered the gravel/adventure bike realm (ahem, Country Road Bob, circa 2000) we know a thing or two about designing bikes with a tasty blend of performance, durability and versatility. It’s an idea we’ve pushed even further with the A.D.D. Road bike, CX bike, mountain bike, loaded touring/adventure bike—you can run 700 x 25–40mm road, CX or gravel tires, or switch up your wheels and run 27.5 x 2.1 MTB knobbies.
Firstly, now that I've tasted the sweet nectar of the 3.0 tire I don't think I can go a year limited to just 2.1.  Secondly, mountain biking with drop bars is kind of like eating a hamburger with chopsticks, whereas with the Jones bars I don't think I'll mind a few hours of pavement time without proper drops.  If anything, I suspect one year of upright riding may finally force me to admit I should adopt a more Petersenly position.

In any event I'll be sure to keep you apprised.

Finally, there's a storm currently bearing down on us, and I refused to take it seriously until they decided last night to close the schools.  This means that no matter how much snow we do or don't get I'll be totally buried in parenting duties.  Fortunately, in anticipation, I did manage to get out on the bike for a bit--yes, that bike:


Rather than head up north I undertook sort of an urban ramble, dropping in on the Highbridge mountain bike trails for a few laps:


Paying homage to the High Bridge itself:


And of course basking in the crotch of this ersatz stone sentry:


Then there was this:


It's what a car looks like after you drive it through a Home Depot:


Among its more distinctive features was this rear-mounted tableau:


And the rear end includes multiple electrical outlets and a pair of door holders for reasons unknown:


Evidently it's been around awhile, though I've never seen it in motion.

I'm not sure I want to, either.