Bike Snob Read online

  Of course, there are plenty of recreational activities that are also considered ways of life by the dedicated people who like to do them, but I can’t think of any that can be as useful as cycling to boot. For example, surfing is both a recreational activity and a way of life, but you can’t really commute to work on a surfboard. And even if you do live in a bungalow and teach a surfing class a few hundred yards down the beach and you can technically surf to work, you certainly can’t stop by the store on the way home and pick up some groceries.

  Cyclists aren’t just hobbyists or lifestyle athletes; in many ways we’re actually a different type of being. We’re people with wheels. Really, in a lot of ways being a cyclist is like being a vampire. First of all, both cyclists and vampires are cultural outcasts with cult followings who clumsily walk the line between cool and dorky. Secondly, both cyclists and vampires resemble normal humans, but they also lead secret double lives, have supernatural powers, and aren’t governed by the same rules as the rest of humanity—though cycling doesn’t come with the drawbacks of vampirism. Cyclists can ride day or night, we can consume all the garlic we want, and very few of us are afflicted with bloodlust or driven by a relentless urge to kill. Here’s what I mean:

  Cyclists Lead Secret Double Lives

  Many cyclists assume an alternate identity on a regular basis which is wholly distinct from their professional, familial, or social lives. The non-cyclist may have no idea his mild-mannered coworker is actually the fastest guy in town who wins elite-level bike races regularly. You don’t have to be a bike racer to experience this, either. You might be a cyclo-tourist, or a mountain biker, or just a dedicated commuter. But thanks to your secret double life you know what it means to accomplish something physically, and you understand the pain involved. You know what it means to explore your limits. That soreness in your legs the next day can serve as a memento and a badge of honor, and when you’re dealing with some idiot teacher or coworker or something, you can take a little satisfaction in knowing you’re probably a lot tougher than he or she is. And perhaps most importantly, you get a chance to wear weird clothes.

  Cyclists Have Supernatural Powers

  When you’re stuck in your car on the highway because an accident or construction has suddenly transformed a twenty-five-minute jaunt into a three-hour nightmare, or you’ve been sitting in a stopped subway train in a tunnel for half an hour after a particularly miserable day at work, you feel impotent—and nothing is more frustrating than impotence. These are the times when you attempt to bargain with the universe: “If you make this train move now, I swear I’ll be a better person.” Then you try to think of people worse off than you. “Well, at least I’m not in prison.” But really, you are in prison, and even worse, you don’t deserve it. Eventually, you might try the stuck-in-transit last resort: meditating until you attain enlightenment and transcend the material plane altogether. Unfortunately, it’s the very rare traveler who can pull this one off.

  But you’ll almost never feel that maddening impotence on a bike (unless your saddle is adjusted improperly, causing crotchal numbness). Sure, you’ve got to travel by car, train, or bus sometimes, but the truth is that you can actually do it a lot less than you’d think. A bicycle can often make a trip that might take an hour take just a fraction of that hour. Or, even if the trip does take longer by bicycle, at least you’ve got almost total autonomy. You can pick your own route, you can make your own schedule, you can weave through traffic. And, when you get to where you’re going, you don’t have to look for parking. On a bike, you’re self-sufficient, and you’re virtually immune to delays.

  When it comes to commuting or running errands, your outlook changes considerably when you bookend your day with a little recreation. Sure, there’s a bit of a learning curve involved—figuring out what to wear, how to carry your stuff, and so forth. But it doesn’t take long to work those things out. Being packed onto a subway or a bus or even stuck in your car in traffic makes you feel like cattle, and that’s an awful way to feel. If you never want to feel like a cow again again—physically or mentally—start riding your bike.

  Cyclists Are Free from the Rules of Humanity

  Bicycles are vehicles, just like cars and motorcycles, and in most places they’re governed by many of the same rules of the road. This is a good thing. However, many people aren’t aware of this fact, and that’s both a good thing and a bad thing. It’s a bad thing because there are idiots in cars who think they’re more important than you because you’re on a bicycle, or who think you don’t belong on the road. Almost every cyclist has been admonished by some dimwitted motorist to “Get on the sidewalk!” even though riding on the sidewalk is completely illegal in most places. (Telling a cyclist to ride on the sidewalk is like telling a driver to drive through a shopping mall.) But the good part is you can use this ignorance to your advantage by doing whatever you want, since nobody really has any idea what you’re supposed to be doing anyway.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m no anarchist—I’m a curmudgeon. And as a curmudgeon I love a good law. Sure, there are some dumb ones (marijuana laws, sodomy laws, laws against strangling drivers who tell you to ride on the sidewalk), but a lot of them are useful. One of my biggest fantasies is actually placing somebody under arrest for spitting. Still, the law as it pertains to cyclists isn’t particularly well-tailored to our needs, so I believe strongly if you’re an enlightened cyclist you can safely disregard a few laws here and there as long as you’re careful. It’s not so much civil disobedience as it is common sense. Stopping at red lights and stop signs on a bicycle is smart (and required by law), but remaining at them when there is no sign of traffic is pointless—it’s just a gesture of supplication to Lady Justice. Enough people are realizing this that some cities are considering laws that allow cyclists to roll through stop signs if there’s no oncoming traffic. These laws are called “Idaho Laws,” not because they involve tubers, but because they’re based on existing laws in the “Famous Potato” state. Similarly, you’re not technically allowed to lock your bike just anywhere (at least not here in New York). But the fact is there aren’t very many bike racks, and most people don’t know you’re supposed to use them anyway, so if you’re reasonably smart and careful you can park your bike pretty much anywhere you want. (Just stay aware and don’t leave it too long—the cops will occasionally break out the circular saws.) As a cyclist, you’re in the minority, and for that reason you can sometimes weave through the law like you can weave through traffic. It’s perfectly fine to capitalize on your rogue status occasionally.

  Better still, as a cyclist you’re also completely free from vehicle registration, insurance, and licensing requirements. You don’t have to pass any tests, you don’t have to be any particular age, and there are no restrictions as to when and where you can ride (apart from highways, of course, where you wouldn’t want to be anyway). At most, there may be some laws requiring you to use a light, or a brake, or a helmet. Big deal—you should probably be using these regardless. But you don’t have to wait in a line at the DMV, you don’t need to take a test proving you know how to park your bike (though that would be pretty amusing to watch), and you don’t need to pay anybody for the privilege to ride. There’s no other form of transportation that is so effective yet so free from restrictions.

  I Want In. Now What?

  Like vampirism, there is an initiation process when you become a cyclist. I don’t mean that you have to look a certain way or conform to somebody’s idea of what a cyclist is. Yes, you need to like riding your bike to be a cyclist, but it doesn’t really matter how fast or slow you are on the bike or what kind of pants you wear while you ride it (though some pants are better than others). Everybody rides differently, and that’s how it should be. No, what this initiation involves is physical pain. Yes, in order to liberate yourself from the psychic pain of being alive you will have to experience some physical discomfort. Much of it will disappear, but some of it will remain. The good news, though, is that you will
come to embrace and even enjoy that discomfort.

  Cycling is an outdoor activity. While you can technically ride your bike inside, that’s not a very good way to actually get anywhere, so eventually you’re going to have to deal with things like rain, wind, and cold. And that means you’ve got to prepare yourself physically and mentally. You’ve got to learn that it’s okay to be cold, and that there are things you can do to make the cold perfectly manageable, and that it’s better to feel cold than it is to feel like cattle. In fact, sometimes it can be great to feel cold. Hey, I love warm beaches and being indoors on crappy days as much as anybody, but the truth is that the life lived entirely at optimum temperature is the life not worth living. Would you appreciate pleasure as much if it weren’t for pain? Would you like sweet things as much if there weren’t salty things? Would you realize how much Sammy Hagar sucks if he hadn’t come right after David Lee Roth? Nope. So why shelter yourself from the beautiful variety of nature’s atmospheric whims?

  Once you’re in, you know what it means to be a different, and in many ways better, kind of being. Because you’ll know the true freedom of more or less unregulated mobility. And once you know that, you’re hooked. You’ll also find your non-cycling friends really annoying, because you’ll realize how long it takes them to get places and how subject to things like timetables and service interruptions and parking availability they are. It will drive you crazy that they can’t just get on a bike and go. You’ll feel airborne among flightless birds. Once you surrender to the bicycle it can actually change your life.

  VELO-TAXONOMY

  The Various Subsets of Cyclists

  Bicycles are the new Rollerblades, talentless is the new talented, and I’m in hog heaven.

  —Ryan Seacrest

  The world of cycling is like a big bowl of Lucky Charms—it’s full of lots of goofy-looking figures in different colors and shapes, but they all come together to be delicious. Furthermore, different people partake in the world of cycling in different ways. Some like to pick out the marshmallows one at a time, others like the crunchy stuff, and still others like to let the bowl sit there for an hour so they can eat the whole thing in one soggy mass. If you’re new to cycling, you might find this bewildering array of people confusing and intimidating, and as such you might be a bit reluctant to dig in. However, while any unfamiliar group of people seems aloof and inscrutable at first, you can rest assured that they’re actually pretty easy to figure out. Here are some of the more recognizable characters you’ll find floating in the milk of cycling:

  The Roadie

  The Roadie is, in a certain sense, the prototypical cyclist. Road racing is certainly not the oldest form of competitive cycling, but it does have a long history and it is by far the most popular competitive discipline. After all, even people who can’t tell a road bike from a mountain bike have heard of the Tour de France. The drop bars, the jersey with rear pockets, the tight shorts, and the diminutive brimmed cycling cap together embody the cyclist in the popular imagination.

  Because road cycling is steeped in tradition (and occasionally garnished with attitude), every single aspect of road cycling—from clothing choice to equipment choice to hand signals to which way to pull off the front of a paceline—is governed by rules. And like all rules, some of them have evolved out of necessity, and some of them are simply tradition for tradition’s sake. In this sense, road cyclists are like the Amish, or like Hasidic Jews, in that they are by far the most orthodox of cyclists. Sure, you might not want to be one, but you’re still kind of glad they’re there. Like orthodox religious sects, Roadies are also immediately recognizable by their appearance, though generally they eschew austere dark robes in favor of festively colored Lycra.

  The negative view of the Roadie is that he or she is overly fastidious, snotty, and aloof—the Eustace Tilley or even the Martha Stewart of the cycling world. On the other hand, the romantic view is that Roadies are the toughest of all cyclists, and that their careful preparation and studied appearance is a natural expression of this mental and physical toughness. After all, the true road racer is accustomed to spending hours and hours in the saddle, often in the service of a teammate. A paceline is sometimes called a “chain gang,” and it’s certainly true that the racing cyclist is part flagellant and part soldier.

  But there’s a deeper truth to the Roadie as well. Beneath all the training and suffering and Lycra and embrocations, the fact is that all Roadies are freeloading cheats.

  I’m not talking about doping. No, Roadies are freeloading cheats because the true essence of road cycling is the conservation of energy. Naturally, the only way a bicycle is going to move is if a person puts energy into it, and they do what they can to make their bodies strong, but there the effort ends. Beyond this, everything else is based on not making an effort. It’s based on making things as light and aerodynamic as possible; it’s based on drafting behind other riders for as long as possible; and it’s about expending as little effort as sparingly and effectively as possible. The Roadie is always looking for a wheel to follow and an advantage to employ. Just watch a professional bike racer take a drink from the team car. He or she will always hold on to the bottle for as long as possible. Especially if he or she is French.

  And the Roadie’s freeloading ways are not limited to life on the bike. They extend to life off the bike as well. Anybody who’s spent any time in bike shops knows that the road racer is the worst kind of product-grubbing discount hunter there is. They have no loyalty to their shop, even if that shop sponsors their club or team. If Roadies can find it online for $4 less, they’ll buy it there. Yet, they’ll also spend $2,000 on a wheelset if they think it might give them an edge, and if you’re foolish enough to lend them the money for it don’t expect to get it back. Roadies are the junkies of the cycling world; they’re skinny and untrustworthy, and they’ll do whatever they need to in order to keep their habit going. The Roadie’s life is full of disappointed people—spouses, friends, family—all of whom have involuntarily funded their depraved lifestyle in one way or another.

  Why other cyclists don’t like them:

  They don’t appear to enjoy what they’re doing and they don’t appear to know you exist.

  Compatibility with other cyclists:

  Have been known to appear at mountain bike races and cyclocross races, but are largely compatible with their own kind only.

  The Mountain Biker

  In some sense, the Mountain Biker is the Roadie’s counterpart—the yang to their yin; the pepper to their salt; the Salt to their Pepa. The main difference between the Mountain Biker and the Roadie is one of terrain, though there’s also a difference in attitude. As a practioner of a much newer discipline, the vocabulary and persona of the Mountain Biker have a decidedly more modern, Western vibe than the Roadie’s old-world, European sensibility. This is particularly apparent in the many surfer-esque ways they can lovingly describe dirt, such as “flowy” or “tacky” or “loose” or “gnarly.” Mountain Bikers are generally also more inclusive than Roadies, which is largely due to the fact that they have a tendency to get “stoked” about things and actually seem to enjoy themselves when they ride.

  At the same time, due to the significant variations in both terrain and social attitudes across the country and the world, many different styles of Mountain Bikers have evolved. These range from the Lycra-clad, smooth-shaven cross-country racers who are not dissimilar to Roadies in outward appearance, all the way to the baggy-shorted, hairy-legged Freeriders who “session” on bikes with more suspension than an unruly high school student. Mountain Bikers are also far more likely to have beer guts and hairy legs with tattoos of things like chain rings, reptiles, or Chinese characters—and that’s just on the ladies. In terms of componentry, Mountain Bikers are less interested in tradition than they are in innovation, due to the demands off-road riding makes on their equipment. While some Roadies do ride off-road as well, many are put off by the presence of distasteful things like mud, rocks, fun, and
a spirit of camaraderie. In fact, there’s a traditional rivalry between Roadies and Mountain Bikers, which leads Mountain Bikers to do extremely irritating things like try to race Roadies who are simply out for a ride, which, if you’re a Roadie, is sort of like being goaded by a hillbilly while you’re browsing an art gallery.

  Why other cyclists don’t like them:

  They will drive four hours to ride for one hour; they listen to music like Creed and Pearl Jam; they have an Adam Sandler—esque approach to cycling attire; and they’re the sort of people who have very large dogs and get really into barbecuing.

  Compatibility with other cyclists:

  Can mingle with Roadies and are comfortable with Cyclocrossers, though they are usually betrayed by their goatees (men), unshaven legs (women), sleeveless jerseys, and helmet visors (unisex).