Image is Everything

As the approximate one thousand emails arrived in COMO CYCO headquarters on or about Black Friday from World Cycling Productions heralding their massive sales of all things shnazzy in apparel, it occured to me how in cycling, image has become everything.  Gone are the days of rolling up your pantleg or using a rubber band to avoid getting your pants caught in your drivetrain.  Now you have the option of purchasing a stylish Brooks "Leather Trouser Clip" for $39.95.

Of course, had you purchased that over the weekend, it would have been 10% off due to the sale.  Sorry if you missed out.

Not to be left out of the pre-Christmas shopping rush, BSNYC alerted us all to World Champion Cadel Evans' new clothing line.  Most notable of which was a T-shirt he was selling with the slogan "Don't stand on my dog."

Slogans reflecting athletic themes are typically short and catchy, like Nike's "Just Do It" or the Lance Armstrong Foundation's "Hope Rides Again", thus one cannot help but find Cadel's choice slightly obtuse.  His website, however, offers a helpful explanation.

"DON'T STAND ON MY DOG.  A phrase that has become synonymous with Cadel since Stage 15 in the 2008 Tour de France; Cadel had just lost the yellow jersey and was being interviewed by a journalist, Cadel jokingly quipped at someone who was getting too close to Molly [his dog]..."Don't stand on my dog or i'll cut your head off."  Thanks to some media editting the true comic nature of the comment was rarely shown.....Made of 100% cotton....Only 100 of [the t-shirts] available, for everyone who likes, every now and then, not to take life too seriously!"

Those clever editors  - how dare they destroy the true comic relief of a good decapitation.  That said, what's not to take seriously about someone potentially standing on one's dog?  Cadel seems to be particularly protective of all fuzzy creatures.  Look how he defends the stuffed golden lion he's holding after winning Stage 10 of the same Tour de France when a reporter touches it with his microphone and then later tries to pet it.

Clearly, now in the off-season, Cadel is trying to let cooler minds prevail and to let his gentler and more comedic side shine through with his T-shirt.  He is not the only pro racer working on image overhauls, however. 

Andy and Frank Schleck, ever the fiercesome Luxembourgian duo, who tried to work together to topple Armstrong, Contador and Wiggins in the 2009 Tour de France with steeley race tactics, are now working hard to demonstrate how cuddly they can be as they were photographed recently frolicking with two dolphins, and apparently showing them the proper hand position when winning a mountain-top stage.

Like this is going to come in handy for dolphins.  Everyone knows they can't take in enough air through their blow holes to be competitive in the mountains and will thus never be anything more than glorified domestiques.  And yet the Shlecks taunt them with false hopes.

Things are also shaking up over at Garmin-Slipstream as a new sponsor is on board and they are officially changing their name to Garmin-Transition.  Although the team is looking leaner and meaner for next year, Papa Vaughters seems to be undergoing some holiday softening as well.

Interestingly, Contador might be taking the opposite tack and choosing this opportunity, when all of his rivals are getting a little soft in the middle, to lay down the gauntlet in declaring himself the new bad boy of the peloton.  Take for example this recent photo reported by Velo News during a press conference where he discussed his objectives for team Astana next year.  Right in the midst of the Q&A session, he applies digital pressure to his right nostril and blatantly blows a snot-rocket.

In an even greater display of disrespect, he then went over to accept a new ceremonial pair of Sidi's from his sponsor as part of their 50th Anniversary celebration with the massive luggie still hanging from the front of his shirt.

Just a word of caution to all of those in the pro peloton who might be reading this....yes, image is everything....but it can also be a bitch to shake...just ask the two guys on the right.

Pedal on!

9th Street Thanksgiving Bicycle Parade

Well, our beloved BikeSnobNYC has decided to take the holiday weekend off, which, once you have acheived superior blogger status, is most certainly a perk.  But we, the struggling bicycle bloggers in the trenches, will continue on, working tirelessly on Thanksgiving to provide cycling-related content to the masses. One wonders if BSNYC might be coasting a bit now that he is attained such a high level of success?And speaking of BSNYC and coasting, in his most recent post, he comments on a new class of fixed gear bike which utilizes coaster brakes, or the kinds of brakes all of our bikes had as little kids.  Of course, to follow suit of the bicycle style names ending with "-ies" (a la "fixies", and "mixtes") these new bikes are called "coasties."  There is now a company actually called Coasties that specializes in  Deep V coasterbrake wheelsets in a variety of styles.  Incidentally, the the Coasties company also just recenly won the 2009 "Most Phallic Company Logo Award".

At any rate, I skipped my annual Thanksgiving ride this morning in favor of a run instead with the COMO CYCO GEEC and dog.  Following the run, we went in search of coffee and ended up on 9th street where we were greeted by a parade of sorts.  And it was the kind of parade I enjoy the most.  No - there were no drunk Shriners in mini-cars, nor beauty queens or fast-food clowns in the backs of convertibles.  In fact, there was no one at all on 9th street.  It was a parade completely devoid of all the typical dipshits, but rife with bicycles. They were all stationary and chained to parking meters and bike racks.  I couldn't help but whip out the cheap camera phone and start taking pictures.

Thus, I bring you the 2009 Thanksgiving Day Riderless 9th Street Bike Parade.

A coffee-colored Surly with a nice Brooks Professional saddle

A Motobecane (I think) fixed gear conversion

A Miyata fixed gear with hot red bull horns and a Klunk sticker.

A sweet, sweet hot pink Peugeot mixte, with front lamp, and bell - again the handiwork of Klunks.

And yet another Klunk Peugeot mixte, this one the male counterpart in blue.

The last one is a bit baffling.  Another Klunk masterpiece, this Panasonic Touring bike comes complete with some interesting flower taped handlebars.

Upon closer inspection, the owner even chose to pierce her handlebars with a safety pin and small bobble comforting us all that punk isn't dead.

Overlooking the parade from the window of the Get Lost! Bookshop was this, complete with a logo of a cyclist experiencing a wicked endo while miraculously, the bicycle remains upright with both wheels on the ground, as if the saddle just suddenly rejected the cyclist and tossed him overboard.  Somehow, this is meant to draw interest to the fact that this is a bicycling law book, but I'm still unclear of the connection since in this illustrated reenactment, the only thing the cyclist could sue would be his own bike.

After taking in the 9th street parade in all of its glory, we were very pleasantly surprised to find Lakota open and serving Pumpkin Pie latte.  The ultra-hipster male barista, wearing his Dark Side of the Moon Pink Floyd concert-T was not nearly as excited as the GEEC and I were to be there, and could have easily been given the "Most Non-Amused Person of the Day" award.

 But after all, he was working on Thanksgiving morning, which sucks, so I'm still giving him (and Lakota) major props for being open this morning and serving up some sweet decadence in a cup.

I also have to give them major credit for NOT playing any holiday music whatsoever, and instead piping in Pink Floyd to match the T-shirt.  I don't think the GEEC was impressed with the Floyd, by "Us and Them" sure sounded good to me.

Now alas, we are off to partake in traditional Thanksgiving Day proceedings.  Here's wishing everyone a great day.  Thanks ever for reading.  Be safe and get out there and ride off those mashed potatoes and pecan pie tomorrow.  It's supposed to be beautiful out!

Pedal on!

Be Careful Out There

The day before Thanksgiving and the streets have been bustling with activity for days already. An NPR story this morning indicated that airline travel will be down this Turkey Day as most people are preferring to get to Gammie and Gampie's house by car.  And although travelling by highway is getting statistically safer, more accidents are occuring on off-highway, country roads.  So unless we decide to start riding on the shoulder of I-70 or 63, statistics show that we might be at an increased risk for vehicular trauma.

The New York Times has dedicated a recent ongoing series of stories to cover safe driving practices titled Driven to Distraction.  The most recent installment published several days ago called "High-Tech Devices Help Drivers Put Down Phone" once again highlights the risks of cell-phone use while driving. 

To help demonstrate their point, the NYT created a little online game you can play which shows how challenging it is to operate your car and both read and respond to text messages on your cell phone.  Try it here.  Intrigued, I tried to play the game and captured some screen shots for you:

The object of the game is to successfully navigate your car down the multi-laned highway, changing lanes as indicated by the green signs hanging above the highway before you reach a toll booth which will only have an open gate for the lane previously indicated.  At the same time, you must read and respond to the text messages coming in on your cell phone, to the right.  Interestingly, the first thing I noticed was that I was not allowed to slow down for any of the toll booths.  Not even a little. This led me to believe that the game must take place in Italy.  But then I became aware that there were no other cars on the road, let alone cyclists.  Not a single one.  So, I therefore deduced that the game was set in some future dystopic, post-apocolytpic Italy.  Now the moment I captured this image for you, a green sign appeared over the road showing the number '6,' indicating that I needed to merge over to Lane 6 in preparation for passing through oncoming toll booth #6 at full speed.  However, I was also simultaneously texted a question from an imaginary friend who has asked me "Which Broadway show do you want to see this weekend:  Mamma Mia, Jersey Boys or Spamalot?"  which according to the game rules, I'm obligated to answer.

But at this point, I got really confused because I only have two gay friends, Tom and Eric, and neither of them are in town to possibly text me such a question.  But then I remembered that Spamalot is acutally a Monty Python shtick and I would prefer to see it, no matter whom was sending me this message, and no sooner did the phrase 'nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition' enter my head, that I crashed through Toll Booth #2.

I decided to start over.

This time I got a MUCH more reasonable question texted to me. 

The text read "Hey - I'm starving.  Let's grab some dinner tonight.  Do you feel like going out or staying in?"  Again - I found myself instantly VERY distracted, because this message almost smacked of a subtle hint of 'sexting'.  I imagined that the COMO GEEC was actually trying to 'sext' with me while I was driving - so I thought I would play along and respond.

I successfully sped my bad-ass through toll gate #6 and hit the SEND button feeling rather frisky.  I then received this reply:

It seems as though the simulation was more realistic than what I first gave it credit for.  I then crashed into Toll Gate #4.

It then occured to me that this second question was rather too distracting as well, and probably not a fair representation of reality.  Because in reality, I can not only text and email on my phone, but also cruise the Internet.  Thus, if I were to use my phone while driving, I would more likely be looking at this.

And then the point of the exercise finally hit me as hard as the approximate 439 toll booths I had blown through.

According to the NYT article, inventors have come up with novel strategies to encourage drivers to NOT text, or email, or use cell phones while behind the wheel.  The brilliant ideas?  The use of more gadgets which sense when you are driving and subsequently disable your phone.  Some of these services can cost upward of $1000.  Has it really come to this?  Have we become so attached to being 'connected' to the world through gadgetry that the only way we can become safely disconnected is through more gadgetry?  And that this high tech and expensive method is a more effective deterrent than, say, the fear of killing a cyclist, pedestrian, other driver or ourselves?

Maybe the bleak, dystopic computer simulation showing no bicycles on the road isn't that much of a stretch of what the future holds.  We'll all be crowding the carless trails in fear of the blind demolition derby that the roads will have become.

At any rate - drive safe and non-distracted this Turkey Day.  Better yet - get out and ride!

Pedal on!

Good Shit and Bad Shit - A Tale of Fecal Indiscretion.

Yes, the weather gods smiled delightfully on COMO this weekend and allowed some truly spectacular riding weather.  I hope, like me, you were able to get out and enjoy it.  One of the first things I encountered  on my Saturday morning ride was another run in with the fellow who dressed like John Bender in the recent MidMo BRR.  He actually came up behind me and went straight where I was turning right, and acted very nonchalant as though he never even noticed me.  But I noticed him AND his ankle-bandana, garish as ever. We caught each other's eyes briefly before I rode away quickly.  But in the moment when we exchanged glances, I could have sworn he smirked and nodded knowingly at me, as if to tell me he is on to my identity.  For the rest of the day, I couldn't help but watch over my shoulder to see if he was following me.

Saturday's ride was otherwise uneventful, and I actually kept it fairly short because I was feeling guilty about my dog not being able to share the weather with me.  So I returned back to COMO CYCO headquarters and collected the COMO CYCO dog and GEEC and the three of us headed out to Shooting Star trail which is his absolute favorite place to run.  The three of us hadn't walked more than 100 yards down the trail, when I had to stop and re-tie one of my shoes.  As I did, I looked up the trail and noticed COMO dog rolling on his back quite vigorously in something alongside the trail.  He, like many dogs, is a connoisseur of all things stinky, and commands an unrivaled skill of crouching down and smearing his fur-covered neck and shoulders into whatever steamy pile he deems to possess the most pungent bouquet.  Saturday may have marked his crowning achievement.  As I yelled to him and he came bounding down the trail toward the GEEC and me, the smell of his new trophy preceeded him in a wave of air bending motion, reminiscent of the aura Pepe le Pew carried around with him in the old Warner Bros. cartoons.  His coat was completely matted in a thick green paste from his left ear to mid-body, and stank of greasy, onion-laden raccoon feces.  Proud of his accomplishment he tried to jump on us and as we recoiled and attempted to dodge him, he realized this had become a game of tag and he was most certainly "it". At any rate, we carried onward and upon reaching Gans Creek, I stripped down and rinshed him off in the cold water.  After the hike, I tossed the now sodden, fetid dog in the back of the car where his stench is still lingering today.  We gave him a proper bath and then decided that we needed something to eat so headed down to RagTag on our bikes. 

When we reached RagTag we were met with 4 bike racks all completely loaded with an assortment of locked bicycles with no more room for ours.  To my eyes, anyway, this is more a blessing than a curse.  I will gladly look for alternative places to lock up my bike if it means more people are riding downtown.  We parked around the corner and entered through the front door.  As we passed by the cluster of locked bikes, I couldn't help but notice a Mountain Bike closest to the door with an unusual decal on it.

Along the top tube was a sticker with the word "POOPDETH" on it.  Clearly, this had become the theme of the day, as the GEEC and I had already had one near-POOPDETH experience earlier.  Initially, I wondered if this was a new model of Shepard Fairey-decorated Trek Mountain Bike issued to commerate Lance's victory at the Leadville race this year, but I've since learned via Google search, that POOPDETH is the name of a now defunct "metal/jazz group that performed short rock operas complete with actors, props, plots and metaphors" according to the band's website, www.poopdeth.org. Here's a picture of one of the aforementioned actors/props/plots/metaphors performing at Mojo's in 2005.

Sunday's ride was even better than Saturday with warmer temperatures and more sun.  As i headed out of town, I came upon a father and daughter riding down the street.  I think the Dad has figured out an excellent motorist deterent strategy based on this photo I took of them.

Note the use of the day glo green markings on the tail end of both bikes.  Effective, to be sure, but likely NOT as effective as the appropriate rider placement.  See how Dad rides in front and all the way over to the right.  He then positions his daughter, complete with side view mirror and bright pink coat in the middle of the street and slightly behind him as the decoy.  Any passing car would easily clip her first, and leave him free of altercations to be able to chase the offending driver down. 

After the ride, I once again, hooked up with the GEEC for a late lunch downtown.  After we ate, we noticed some comotion occuring on the north end of 9th street so rode toward it to see what was going on.  Low and behold, we had stumbled upon a Holiday parade.  I should say that we were guessing it was a holiday parade by the many marching bands passing by wearing santa hats and expressions of disdain.  But then we started to wonder if it was in fact a holiday parade or something else entirely when we saw the large "Bring Them Home" banner advancing down the street with a cyclist in front of the banner riding in circles wearing a box.  He was yelling loudly "Bring them home!  Bring them home!"

Upon closer inspection, the boxed cyclist had the word "Joy" written above his left shoulder.

I've heard of a 'glove-box', 'squeeze-box', and a 'toy-box', but never a Joy Box.  So I felt compelled to do a little research to learn what exactly a Joy Box is.

If, like me, you are unaware of what this little number does, you will be interested to know that according to the manufacturer, with this device...

"...now you can store and protect up to three Kingsize cones in this handy Joybox.  Great for those still getting their fingers around rolling, and even better for those more experienced who enjoy a smoke while out and about on their travels....The Kingsize Joybox is an incredibly useful item for anyone who has ever suffered the disappointment of a lovingly prepared smoke getting crushed in your pocket or bag.  You can also use it to roll your smokes without actually rolling, as you put the coned paper inside the hole, and then simply fill the same hole with your favourite 'legal' [aka your good shit] smoking mix for a perfectly coned smoke.  You can make three perfect smokes in half the time it would take you to make just the one."

So with the human Joy Box riding alongside the war protesters, we then figured this must be a hippy parade.  But what followed next seemed to contradict that.

Since when did the world's largest fast-food corporation start participating in local parades, be they Holiday or Hippy in origin?  Not only did they send two regional managers (both overweight and mulletted no less) to carry the giant golden-arches banner down Broadway - but they also sent the Ronald-Mobile as well.

Two gentlmen wearing Santa hats kept running back and forth from the Ronald-Mobile with hand fulls of small, wrapped items to throw into the crowd.  I wasn't lucky enough to catch any, but think they were sample bottles of Lipitor.

As if that weren't enough - they sent Ronald himself, riding in the back of a convertible.

I overheard someone in the crowd saying that with Mayor Hindman not seeking re-election of COMO, Ronald McDonald has decided to throw his hat in the ring for consideration and was using this parade to make the anouncement.  We didn't stick around for the stump speech, however, as after his car passed by us, a fezzed Shriner driving a mini-Indy car ran over my foot requiring me to go soak it in some ice for the remainder of the evening.

Upon reaching COMO CYCO headquarters once again, the GEEC and I were met lovingly by the COMO dog, still reeking of POOPDETH.  Good or bad, as Forrest tells us, shit happens.

Pedal on!

Dear PooBah: Thanksgiving Special!

It's Friday and you know what that means.  Time for reader mail.  We skipped ye olde mailbag last week so will try to make up for it this week with a Thanksgiving special as that most special day of the Turkey is just around the corner.

Let's get to it!

Dear PooBah-

Not sure if you are a hunter, but opening day for deer season was last Saturday - and I bagged me one!  Thought you might like to see how I got her home!
Sincerely,
Dead-eye Dick

Dear Dead-eye,

Thanks so much for the photo.  You guessed correctly - I'm not a hunter.  But I'm guessing that this one was actually bagged by a Buick based on the rigor mortis which means that you succeeded in bringing home some fairly old roadkill.  That said, at least the carcass did not go to waste, and I applaud you for taking her home, but admit being perplexed by your chosen method of transporting the body.  Here's hoping you get your driver's license back real soon after that last DWI.

---

Dear PooBah

I wanted to do something special for Thanksgiving this year, so thought I would rig up a Turkey rotisserie to my old 29er.  Doesn't that baby look mouth watering?

Happy T-Day!

Mrs. Butterball.

Dear Mrs. Butterball,

Wow - rotating roasting extravagance to be sure.  This is quite an ingenious set-up complete with a veritable cornucopia in your front basket as well.  Just a word of advice...slow and steady wins this race.  Don't dare start hammering on those pedals, or you might end up launching your bird over the fence into your neighbor's yard.

---

Dear PooBah:

Check out the bike I saw downtown the other day!  I took a picture of it with my camera phone.  It's a John Deere!  Could it be real?

Sincerely,

J. Sydenstryker

Dear J:

Yup, they are real all right.  They came in four colors: White, black, JD green and yellow.  The green means it's a men's three speed, although you would be hard pressed to know that by the big-assed, extra spongy granny saddle this one is sporting.   Unfortunately these babies aren't worth much as they were made in Taiwan in the 70s out of some pretty cheap materials.  Kind of odd by JD standards, but this might explain the lock job on this one consisting of a chain tossed around a three foot high pole.  If this guy really wanted to give this ride some more street cred, he'd slap one of these on it:

---

Dear PooBah,

I remember reading one of your posts a while back in which you quoted a reporter that said that riding bikes was bad for the environment because of all the carbon dioxide that is exhaled during the exertion of pedaling.  I started thinking about this and believe that reporter might be on to something.  Therefore I invented this which will allow you to enjoy riding your bike without the exertion of pedaling and exhaling all of that excess CO2 in to the atmosphere.  What do you think?

Wind-man.

Dear Windy,

Nice work.  The sail attachment rig is especially ingenious. Just curious - does it come with the polyester slacks and ankle boots, or are those sold separately?

---

Dear PooBah,

Last week I was away on a business trip and took a red-eye home to surprise my girlfriend early in the morning.  I let myself into her apartment only to find her like this....in bed with a bike....and not just any bike.....but MY bike!  I hot-tailed it out of there fast, but now don't know what to think about all of this?  Help!

Jealous

Dear Jealous-

I know you must be in shock about all of this, but let me challenge you to expand your imagination just a bit.  Ever hear of the term manage-a-trois?  Mind the skewers...could be a little dicey there.

Pedal on!

If You Build It They Will Come: A Warning!

Yes, I know - I've not been writing regularly.  There is the small problem of me still having a day job.  Widgets, it seems, do not make themselves, and when the widgets get backordered, the worker bees have to put in lots of extra time getting caught up.  As such - I've not been tending the COMO CYCO fires as much as want to.

But too much is happening in the crazy, ridiculous world of cycling NOT to share.....so widgets be damned for the time being.

In pro-peleton news, some interesting shake ups in teams are occuring.  The newly-formed RadioShack team has decided to rob the cradle and sign a new cyclists who is both pretty young and pretty inexperienced.  Matthew Busche,24, was just a Cat 2 last season and riding on a small regional Wisconsin team and now will be the teammate of Leipheimer, Horner, Popovych and Armstrong. 

His fast track to the major leagues went something like this:  7th at Tour of Utah (seen above), 6th and the Gran Prix and then 5th at US Pros in South Carolina where he was one of only 8 left standing the last summit over Paris Mountain.    According to VeloNews, by the time he was racing here in the Tour of Missouri, he had already received the call from Bruyneel about joining the Shack.

And literally days after Floyd Landis entertained the COMO cycling crowd over at Orr St. Gallery, he announced that he and Team OUCH have mutually decided to part ways.  In a statement released by the Momentrum Sports Group, Landis wishes to race the longer tougher stages offered in Europe rather than continuing to focus on domestic races which OUCH will focus on.  This is precisely what he eluded to in the Q&A session of his talk on Saturday night.

Now I have to admit, that not being able to write posts over the past couple of days has had me down.  Not having the opportunity to prattle on about cycling related issues has left the part of my brain that obsesses over cycling feel rather constipated.  Which is EXACTLY why I would desperately love to build a new bike shop here in COMO.  I have the master plan all laid out.....high end road bikes, and randonneuring rides, a comfy lounge to watch Giro d'Italia DVDs on a flat panel screen while sipping good coffee from the espresso machine, a small cafe serving homemade pastries, sandwiches and beer for after Saturday morning group rides, shop space and tool rental for the do-it yourselfers, a full library of every cycling book published plus copies of Cycle Sport and VeloNews strewn about the coffee tables.  In the spring we would host Alleycat races and in the winter, Goldsprint races and trainer sessions in the basement.  Essentially a place where you can come and revel in the geekiness that is our obsession and just disucss cycling. 

In looking for models of this concept, they aren't too difficult to find.  I stumbled upon one called Superb Bicycle in Boston.  Not only a shop, but a gallery and collaboration with local designers, artists and frame builders, Superb Bicycle seems to be exactly what I was gearing for, if you will excuse the pun.  That was until I stumbled upon the marketing campaign they are employing to advertise some new lines of apparel.

In the photographs above is Jason of Superb Bicycles, who as far as I can tell, is both the shop owner and also the self-appointed male model showing us the new Nari Furi Crooked Zipper Backpack, Nari Furi Polka Dot Jacket, Swrve Skinny Fit Denim jeans and Octopus cap.  Of particular interest is the way a Krypto lock is shoved inside the back left pocket of the aforementined skinny jeans, but the wad of keys Jason is toting is left to dangle from a carabiner attached to a belt loop.  One doesn't want to risk keying one's own balls, it seems, and these jeans would certainly pose that risk.  Plus, this is the hipster way.

Not only is Jason apparently younger than I am, but he's dressed douchetastically - at least a 3 on the LCU douche scale.  How in the hell did this guy generate the capital to start his own new shop?  Perhaps he simply took out a loan, in which case his balls truly are bigger than mine and it's no wonder he has to dangle those keys outside his pants rather then slip them into the front pocket.  I'm certainly not privy to their accounting books, but by the appearance of the website, it looks like Jason and company are doing well.

Regardless of my own jealousy of his success and dream realization, if pandering to the neo-hipster movement is what it takes to succeed in the bike-shop market these days, so be it.  I therefore have delved into more research exploring the marketability of some of my other ideas, like the basement goldpsrint races.  Goldsprint races are essentially pairing two cyclists up to sprint a predetermined destance, say 500m or so, on stationary bikes: the fastest time wins.  It seems to be a great way to keep people in the shop and drinking beer during the long, dark months of winter.  When I Googled the term and hit "images" this is what I came up with.

Note the footwear of the cyclist on your right, please.

It may just be my general disdain for feet and all manners of footwear that result in toe-display, but as well-pedicured as those little piggies are, I'm rather unamused at seeing them crammed into toe cages by this hipster chick.

It is difficult, I suppose, to know what kind of audience one will attract when opening up a shop, and therefore the wise shop owner shouldn't be discriminating in these troubling economic times.  But how can they resist?  Sure, if you are targeting masses of rich kids who desire nothing more than to burn through their parents' money on knock-off, candy-colored fixed gear bikes, everything is great.  But what if you are cut from a different kind of cloth.  Such discussion is reminescent of a recent discovery I made on Craigslist.  It is a rant of sorts from a frustrated bike mechanic/shop owner.  The original rant is far too long to post , but if you feel so inclined you can read the whole thing here:  I've chosen instead to post a portion of the rant that seems most germane.

A DEDICATION TO ALL THE HIPSTER DUCHEBAGS [sic].

-If you shitheads had any money, you wouldn't NEED a vintage Poo-zhow to get laid.  Go have an ironic mustache growing contest in front of American Apparel so that I can continue selling $300 bikes to fatties which is what keeps the lights on.

-Being made in the 80's may make something cool, but that doesn't automatically make something good.  The reason that no one has ridden that "vintage" Murray is because it's shit.  It was shit in the 80's, a trend it carried proudly through the 90's, and rallied with into the '00's.  What I mean to say is, no, I can't make it work better.  It's still shit, even with more air in the tires.

It would seem that everyone hates their jobs, occasionally, whether you are making widgets or selling bikes.  I'm sure that even Jason of Superb Bikes in Boston must get tired of modelling his supertight, Krypto lock-stuffed skinny jeans and just craves some nice, stretchy yoga pants from time to time.  Maybe he blogs about it in his spare time?

Pedal on!