They say you should never read the comments, but I did glance at the ones at the bottom of my YouTube video yesterday, and I was pleased to find they were insightful as always:
Saying a fixie isn’t a fixie because it has brakes is like saying a sandal isn’t a sandal because you’re wearing socks with it. By the way, anybody remember Ted Shred? If a fixie is a bike without brakes then that would make his bike a fixed gear!
Ah, 2006..heady days indeed. I like to think Ted Shred eventually did get a brake, but in order to stay True to the Shoe he had a custom one made that uses a pair of Vans instead of brake pads:
Actually, you could probably fabricate a Ted Shred pro model brake out of a Ken Doll:
Just bolt his torso to the brake bridge, use one of his arms as a cable stop, and with legs akimbo he could squeeze the rim between his feet.
And of course your Ken Doll brake should always wear a helmet:
Speaking of brakes, we’re living in the age of discs. As we all know, rim brakes are weak and ineffectual, and if you’re using cantis you may as well be Ted Shred. Nevertheless, this morning I fucked off egregiously on a profoundly satisfying mixed-terrain ride astride the RockCombo:
I took the above photo on the popular stretch known as “River Road.” The other day I mentioned how even when you’re on a bike it’s easy to miss stuff, and for years I missed the fact that bald eagles live here. Idiotically, I just thought all the people with high-powered cameras were taking pictures of the mighty Yonkers skyline or something, and it wasn’t until the commenter known as “Mikeweb” pointed it out to me one day did I realize I’ve been blithely pedaling past our national bird. Anyway, today I got a good look at one, though you can hardly tell from my shitty pinch-to-zoom smartphone photo:
The small blob is the bird, and the larger blob is the nest. I’d feel shame for this poor shot if I didn’t know that I am in fact capable of brilliant nature photography:
That is easily the best picture I’ve ever taken or will ever take. It also says pretty much all you need to know about life:
Some days you’re the hawk, and some days you’re the pigeon. But most of the time you’re just a squirrel stealing half-eaten pizza crusts out of the garbage.
After leaving River Road I headed off into the woods:
I don’t now much, but I do know that when you come across a big-ass rock you’d better sit on it and contemplate your place in the universe, so I did just that:
If you’re very lucky you experience a moment or two every day when things just make sense. How you arrive at that moment doesn’t really matter, but in this case I just happened to get there via a short-lived proto-gravel bike the color of Don Johnson’s nightmares.
A little while later I stopped in Piermont for a snack. Piermont is one of those towns that’s so cute you don’t know if you want to pinch its cheek or slap it in the face. On the weekends the racks are generally bursting with bicycles, but today it was just my Sinyard’s Folly and one other lucky bastard:
From there I headed over the
Tappan Zee Mario Cuomo Bridge and to yet another dirt trail that brought me pretty much all the way home, by which point I was forced to admit that the riding around here is in fact pretty damn good.
Who’d a thunk it?