bike rides and valentine's day

I saw the guy move from that same table to another across the room as soon as its prior occupants vacated it, and still I didn’t get it. I made a bee line for that precious table at Cafe Fixe; prime, coveted real estate in the sparsely furnished cafe. I put down my Americano, opened my notebook, and took a backseat to the argument unfolding between ex-s at the table in front of me.
I can only imagine the importance attached to an issue that will instigate near-shouting matches involving spitting out the phrase, “it was only a fucking kiss, i didn’t do anything else with him, okay?!” in the middle of a very quiet coffee shop while everyone else sort of stiffened their necks to keep from turning and staring. And while I’ve been guilty of the same crime of fighting in public, that certainly didn’t keep me from passing judgment. But come on, I mean, I was literally 3 feet away from them! How could I not?!
Ah, love. So complicated. And to complicate things even more, there’s Valentine’s Day coming up. Yup, that’s Monday. And no, I’m not implying anyone forgot about it.
But just in case you did, or you just haven’t found that perfect gift yet, or you haven’t decided what to heavily hint at wanting, or you just want to know what I would get for myself because I am philosophically opposed to the celebration of Valentine’s Day but am not opposed to buying myself things, here’s a list, compiled with my bike and a ride in mind:
Rapha Women’s Winter Collar

Yeah, I have the black one. But assuming that I would be content with one color would be like implying that I could live the rest of my life painting my nails the same shade of red. Not possible. Besides, it’s pink. And as most of my gear is in the exciting shade of black, a splash of feminine color is always welcome. These collars can keep you hot [literally], and should be on everyone’s must have list. Unless, of course, you live in California or you have somehow managed to pink out your bike, kit, shoes, iphone cover, and helmet and have consequently turned yourself in the personification of Valentine’s Day in flux. In which case, please do not buy this product.
Chomper Body Muscle Butter

Mr. G + D had a jar of this goodness a few months ago and after rides would slather it on his legs. And I would start breathing deeply. Panting, almost. Not to accentuate my chest [although I can use help in that department, too] but because it smelled so good. Like a walking peppermint. My mouth is actually sort of watering thinking about it. And no offense to Mr. G + D, but it’s the idea of minty yumminess massaged into my legs post-ride, combined with heart-shaped boxes of chocolates that’s getting my juices going. It doesn’t prickle like embrocation, either, so even with this stuff on your legs, you’re free to pursue whatever activities are in store, post-ride.
Skins Women's Travel & Recovery Long Tights

Sent via Josh, who suggested that I might want to “look good in the bedroom,” [see the second bullet point] once I saw how sexy these are, I couldn’t say no. I mean, what kind of male cyclist would NOT be turned on by the image of me squeezed into these amazing compression tights? Just try to ignore the fact that those tights are on a male model. Sexy, right? Additional points for the brand name which is what we call condoms back in Japan.
But, okay, fine. These are way sexier.
Rapha Women’s Wind Jacket

To complete the outfit. In white, because it’s not entirely opaque and therefore completely appropriate as a seduction tool. And because anything with that “R” logo will get my cycling-and-style-obsessed boyfriend’s intensely focused attention faster than a really nice [bare] rack ever could.
And there you have it. The female cyclist's dream Valentine's Day. Just remember, even if you don't exchange presents on Monday, if you want to make a female bike nerd happy, going on that ride is still mandatory.

equal protection of nyc cyclists

Last Sunday, with temperatures hovering around 40F, I rode outside for the first time in about four weeks.
In those four weeks without outdoor riding, I knew things would change. The blast of aerial pressure on my face would seem new and wholly unpleasant, the bright sunlight burning retinas weakened by constant exposure to fluorescents. I would have to actually dodge things rather than simply stare at other people dodging things on my computer screen. A sports bra and shorts would no longer be appropriate attire to wear while on the bike; if not only to keep hypothermia at bay, social etiquette and modesty would require more layers. Things were going to change when I finally decided to leave the comfortable warmth and windless environment that is my living room.
But in those four weeks, I never expected NYC to become a cyclocross obstacle course.

With what has been labeled the "NYC Cyclist Crackdown," [which is beginning to sound like some undercover drug ring operation] apparently you can't just ride your bike in the city anymore. Or in the park. Or without a helmet even if you're over 13 years of age. SRSLY? OMG. WTF.

Snow-blocked bike lanes and the West Side Greenway being covered in a few inches of ice aside [at one point last Sunday, trying to scoot my way through ice, I ended up doing the Catwoman pose, except way less sexy and with a bike attached to my outstretched leg], tickets are being issued not just to people who ride the wrong way down the street [here's looking at you, you Asian girl on a cruiser who almost fucking killed me], but in Central Park as well. The po-po aren't out there in the park while it's closed off to vehicular traffic, ticketing the masses of pedestrians or anyone else who might be breaking the law. Just, you know, dragnetting anything on a bike that happens to cruise through a red.

Though it can be argued that traffic laws and regulations may not apply to Central Park while it is closed off to vehicular traffic [not an unreasonable argument as it’s unclear how Central Park is actually classified under NY state and municipal statutes], let’s just assume it is for now. Even so, the sudden enforcement of laws which hereto have been largely ignored could raise some due process and equal protection issues [ironically, New York was the only state to ask that the due process clause be included in the original Constitution]. After all, “the purpose of the equal protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment is to secure every person within the State's jurisdiction against intentional and arbitrary discrimination, whether occasioned by express terms of a statute or by its improper execution through duly constituted agents.” Vill. of Willowbrook v. Olech, 528 U.S. 562, 564, 120 S.Ct. 1073, 145 L.Ed.2d 1060 (2000). Targeting a particular group, with the intent to discriminate against them, [while ignoring other groups similarly situated who are also breaking the law] is a classic equal protection violation. Sure, if one appeals the traffic ticket which would otherwise cost you $270, it appears that it can be knocked down to $70. But you’re still out of pocket $70. As in you, the cyclist, are out of pocket $70 while everyone else who might be breaking the law in Central Park are paying, well, $0.
Given that I pretty much sucked at constitutional law, I have to give you a disclaimer: don't take my word for this. But it is something to think about. And, I will tell you this, and you should listen to this one. With The Crackdown being enforced in Central Park, every cyclist with half a brain is going to haul ass to make those lights. Including me. And now there’s really no incentive to slow down to let that mob of tourists through the crosswalk. Because that’s my goddamn green now, son.
Although I suppose they could always make up some law and write you a ticket for going through a green too fast or something. But that's what attorneys are for, right?

cuddles, cops, and good company

Three trains, getting lost in some questionable alleys, a few cases of Coney Island beer, Farinelle pizza, cops, some friends I haven't seen in forever, and Stage 7 of the Giro d'Italia. Mix, shake, and serve on a cold Friday night.
Following weeks of deprivation of outdoor riding, the first Motion Pictures event showing the infamous stage of last year's Giro elicited an emotional response in me akin to that evoked when I see the word "sunny" combined with a number greater than 30. I didn't even care about the free beer or pizza. When I first heard of the event, all I saw was Cuddles, cycling, and the potential for interaction that is more socially acceptable than therollercam.com. How could I say no to that?

Despite my geographically-challenged sense of direction, I arrived at the Glass Shop at the fashionably prompt hour of 7.35. To a packed room. Empty Coney Island beer bottles already crowded the back of the counter and the pizza boxes were mostly picked over. Getting to the back of the room seemed like a dim possibility. But hey, there was a 9 foot screen and a chair nearby. I wasn't worried about missing the mud-covered finish.
Except that friends started to arrive. People I hadn't seen since I started wearing multiple layers of wool were coming through the door or squeezing towards the front of the Glass Shop. I caught up with Derrick, saw Hot Sam, was invited out on a ride with Phoebe, and met Dave Trimble. And just when I started to remember how to carry on a conversation with someone without 140 character limits, the cops showed up.

Not that that stopped anyone, least of all Cadel. They issued a bunch of [pink!] citations, I actually got to say, "I'm an attorney," and the stage and party finished out. No one seemed to want to leave even after the stage was over, but the last train called and we reluctantly headed out into the cold, still giddy from the stage, the beer, and the company. A monthly thing? Man, I wish this was weekly.
Check out more pictures here, and if you're in NYC next time around, be sure to stop by!
[Note: all photographs by Mr. Gage + Desoto]

motion pictures: stage 7 of the 2010 giro

As most of the country gets ready to engage in the national past time of consuming bucketfuls of cheese puffs while screaming at a giant flat-screen TV, I am reminded of how much I have...grown.
Not that I wouldn't stuff my face full of greasy wings, limp celery sticks with ranch dressing, piles of tepid pizza, and kegs of cheap but cold beer if given an excuse to do so. But then I'd have to compensate for that weight gain on my steel frame by not ever carrying water bottles. Which normally wouldn't be a problem, because I have a personal cadre of domestiques, but sometimes you just want the option of riding your bike alone, you know?
Anyway, because jerseys should be close-fitting and because I wish my shoulders were narrower to reduce wind drag, I'm kind of excited that, on Friday night, Mike and a bunch of guys with ampersands between their names are holding a screening of supposedly one of the best stages of the 2010 Giro. According to inside sources, many dudes who look like they can fit their entire body into the pant leg of your average NFLer will be in attendance!

For the more cultured, mark your calendars. Even if you remember every detail of this stage, can you really resist an excuse to cheer Lance to yet another decisive victory?
I DIDN'T THINK SO.
BE THERE.
Friday, Feb 4 @7pm at:
The Glass Shop 766 Classon Ave Brooklyn
[And yes, I was totally kidding about Lance.]

floyd, lance, and snow

With the SI article on Lance [nothing new, as most of us found out after reading all 5 pages of it], rumors that Lance might not be able to get out of this one, and blogs almost as influential as mine, like Cyclocosm, commenting on the issue, I figured it was only my duty to add my two cents. I had it all planned out, coming up with sentences like, “it is precisely because sports are not a matter of life and death that there is a need to play fair. To uphold a sense of sportsmanship and moral integrity that we expect of athletes, those who cycle out the purest and perhaps even the most childish of our dreams.”
Yeah, I came up with all that. I actively engaged in coherent sentence generation, mostly while in the shower, which means serious business.
The thing is, anything I say has already been said before, most likely by those more in the know or just more competent at putting together sentences. Such as, with regards to Floyd’s sudden flip-flopping, my favorite Canadian rapper, Snow:

The last verse seems particularly applicable. Although, I guess Floyd already “turn[ed] informer.” Still, I have a soft spot for guys that are into bikes and look like hobbits, so I'm going to let great music speak for Floyd's feelings. Word?
WORD!