Douchebag of the Week: The guy who didn't get the Rapha memo

In the latest issue of Bicycling Magazine (thanks, grandma!), the chaps at Rapha took out a multi-page advert that began with these inspirational words of cycling wisdom:

"You have to look good when you are riding, you have to impress your adversary with your elegance. To look good is already to go fast.

Paul Fournel "Need for the Bike."

Apparently this guy has yet to read Mr. Fournel's cycling tome. This jersey was so stretched I swore I could hear sheep howling in pain. Now that it's the off season, it might be a good time to think about doing a couple sit ups, tubby.

Douchebag of the week: Any guy who cuts his own hair.

Oh joy, the Borg known as Swobo has launched a new website specifically for the fixed gear bicycles ridden on the street market. Sorry, unless it's actually being ridden on the track, I'm no longer going to be calling anything a "track bike."

What I do love though is this quote from Swobo founder Tim Parr:

"We wanted to create a site that was authored and managed by people and ideas that fall well outside of the traditional bike industry. This particular urban bike enthusiasm (the track bike scene) is pure, and is being borne by anonymous kids across the country and beyond. Nothing could be healthier, or more real, so we wanted to create a place where people could post ideas and the progression of what's happening right now. This is something we've been waiting for, for a really, really long time. We're just happy to be here to witness it."

Oh yes, nothing could be "healthier" or "more real" than a bunch of out of shape people pretending to be bike messengers.

And of course Tim's been waiting, a really, really, long time because there's a pile of money for Swobo to make off these rubes.

Now please excuse me, I've got a couple of mid 90's Swobo wool jerseys and a beanie that need to be posted up on eBay before the weekend because rumor has it "vintage" Swobo is fetching top dollar these days.

You're a pilot? No, I'm a naval aviator.

Captured this moment out at a local watering hole the other night and I love how even though it's just a single picture, you can tell that it's playing out like one of my favorite scenes from Top Gun.

Girl: Wow! you're a professional bike rider? Like Lance Armstrong?

DoB: No, I'm a cycling enthusiast.

Girl: I don't understand. We're at a bar and you're wearing a skin tight Lycra shirt covered with advertising. That's what the pro's wear, right?

DoB: Yes. This is the exact same thing they wear but my jersey is different.

Girl: How?

DoB: For starters, I bought it. Pros get their kits for free.

Girl: And you thought it'd be a good idea to wear out because..?

DoB: I had to ride six blocks to get here. There's no way a t-shirt could handle that job. More importantly sets a cycling jersey apart from any old shirt is that there's pockets sewn in the back.

Girl: Pockets?

DoB: Yeah, it's a great way to carry stuff like you're keys, ID, energy gels, tool kit, and um, you're phone number?

Girl: My phone number?

DoB: Yeah.

Girl: I don't think so. I only date guys who ride fixed gears.

Tight pants, baggy chain.

FYI: It's hard to have street cred when you ride on the sidewalk.

Ladies week contiues

I love it that a 5th year sophomore says that riding a fixed gear is a reminder that you can't coast through life. Words of wisdom. Pure wisdom.

Girls can be douchebags too!

Earlier today while riding to an appointment, I was waiting for a red light to turn green and much to my surprise a fellow cyclist pulled up alongside me.

Before I could even complete I "good morning" nod, I realized I wasn't saying hello a friend I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting but to a POB as coined by the great Dave Moulton.

Actually, this gal was more along the lines of an HOB- hipster on a bike. Janky ass singlespeed (not fixed) conversion with a purple Velocity Deep V on the rear and her right pant leg was deftly tucked into her cowboy boot.

Before I had a chance to ask her how much fun it was to ride a bike with flat pedals in cowboy boots, she'd already blown clear through the intersection.

Even with her enormous head start, I was able to nearly catch her before she ran though the next light. Like the good cyclist I try to be, I patiently waited for the light to turn green before proceeding and somehow still managed to run into her a mile up the road even with taking a completely different route.

I guess if you ride that slow running red lights might be needed to get anywhere in timely manner though getting a ticket might cut into her "buy a matching wheel fund."

Douchebags of the week: Rapha and their gentleman

At first blush the Rapha Gentlemen's Race sounded wicked awesome. Unsanctioned and unmarshalled. Oh yes, the perfect double u combo that all but implies that chainsaws are welcome.

As if.

With a race put on by Rapha I should have known from the get go that there'd be no Mad Max shit. I guess that's the optimist in me. The same optimist who once spent half his rent on a Rapha jersey only to have the pockets fall apart after two wearings. Really, you'd think a $150 Chinese made jersey might be built for the long haul but I guess Rapha decided to go for the cheapest sweat shop possible. Come on, Rapha don't feel bad about hiring children. Their nimble little fingers can stitch up those hard to reach places like nobody's business.

Instead, what we get is a glorified group ride. Sure 130 miles with almost 8,880 feet of climbing is most certainly epic. But when said ride has a Casiotron providing the soundtrack and the lame version of the Sklar brothers providing the commentary, this gentleman's "race" is suddenly one peanut butter sandwich holding leather handlebar bag away from being a fat ass filled brevet.

Retroactive Douchebag of the Week: Greg LeMond

Took a last minute trip out of town hence no official Douchebag of the Week for last week.

Good thing Bicycle.net was there to step it up in my absence by doing my job for me.

Greg, there's so many off color things I want to say to you right now, but I can't because my neighborhood Goodwill is opening up in a couple minutes and I've got a couple vintage Z Team jerseys, a well worn 7-11 cycling cap, and a still working VHS copy of the 1989 Tour in its original jacket to go drop off.

It's high concept. Like Revenge of the Nerds meets Easyriders

Please excuse my absence for the last couple of days. I've been on the run from a gang- a gang of recumbent riders.

I was down near the beach the other day when I crossed paths with the pocket protector demographic's version of the Hell's Angels. Since I like to think of a gang of nerds in the same light as a gang of 3 year-olds in that if I were ever jumped by either I'm fairly confident I could fight my way out Burt Reynolds style.

Well, long story short, when I saw these guys cruising down the road, I brazenly took out my camera and started snapping away.

And why wouldn't I?

The second degree yellow belt I earned in the summer of '87 gave me more than enough skill to beat these guys into submission should things get dicey. Besides, with a wheel base longer than a Winnebago we're talking a 4 point turnaround easy.

The only problem was they'd hired a two wheeled escort to serve as rolling protection.

Oh snap! Well played recumbent gang, well played.

This last photo was snapped a split second before this gang of two and three wheeled marauders flipped a u'ey to come on back to find out just why they were interesting enough to be photographed.

I didn't have much time to weigh my options so I quickly decided it would be best it punch it and get away because I had a full agenda for the day that didn't included going to jail for disemboweling a bunch o' nerds.

The only problem was I was at the beach and as anyone who's read even a paragraph about recumbent bikes knows, "on level ground a recumbent is far superior to the common bicycle." What was I going to do? There were no hills to be found anywhere on which to drop these recumbent riders. I was gonna be toasted real quick.

So, I did the next best thing. I deftly weaved my way through traffic and let the recumbent gang deal with the horror and sheer of being eyeball to eyeball with Hummer bumpers and discover just how hard it is to split a lane while riding a sport trike.

Still, I had the their escort to deal with so I stayed on course running for the hills Iron Maiden style because I knew, if I could keep him at bay for 15 miles I'd be in the clear because as we all know a "century rider" can't pedal for more than the 15 miles between sag stops.

I'm happy to report that at exactly 15.2 miles our Trek riding protector of nerds decided to punch out and go home.

Monday Mash Up

Here's undeniable YouTube'd proof that the MASH crew went on a little mash session with his Lanceness when they descended upon Austin to celebrate their latest collabo or whatever it is they do.



What I like about this video is the fact that the Lance Armstrong factor offsets the fact that Lance was mashing with them on a fixie with whack ass non-NJS approved mustache bars while being dressed like a Republican. Had he been any other guy, I'd wager the Mash crew would circle the wagons give this yuppie a few choice words about copying their scene.

When you watch the video, pay attention to the part where Lance absolutely rails a corner while another dude had to scrub some speed with a skid. I know he's Lance and all but for the MASH crew, fixed gears are life and it's pretty amusing that even in his pre-comeback state he can simply ride away from them at will.

I was impressed that the camera guy could keep up though. Very impressive to be able to keep a camera steady and haul ass at the same time. Too bad I found out at the end of the clip that this guy was riding a scooter.

Boo.

Or as the kids say FAIL.

Douchebag of the Week: NY State Senator Jeff Klein

Senator Jeff Klein

Much like Larry Craig touching the foot of an undercover cop when he was trollin' for ass in an airport bathroom during a layover, Jeff Klein couldn't have picked a worse cyclist in all of Manhattan to call a "fucking asshole" while he was behind the wheel of his black Mercedes.

Had Senator Klein not chosen to deck out his Mercedes with license plates exclusively for members of the senate, he could have ridden off anonymously into the sunset.

Instead, he chose to mess with No Impact Man (I know. WTF, right?) who used his lone superpower of observation and realized the driver calling him hurtful names and trying to run him off the road might be a government official.

Sure enough, when No Impact Man caught up to offending senator at a stop light he was able to coax his name out of him thanks to the age old Jedi mind trick of "What's your name?"

Being Senator Klein is a Democrat and doesn't have that whole lying thing perfected yet, he willfully revealed his true identity to No Impact Man, which lead to this strongly worded open letter, which was soon followed by this posting of triumphant success.

Along the way the journalist juggernaut that is Gothamist caught wind of the story and a lively discussion soon followed.

Was the senator just feeling the sting of karma or was it a set up by No Impact Man all along?

I don't know and I don't care. I'm just happy that I get to giggle at the expense of an elected official.

Oh, and No Impact Man, I poked around your gerbil powered website and hate to say it but what I saw in just a couple minutes is more than enough to make you a strong candidate for next week's featured Douchebag. Keep up the good work and you'll join Senator Klein soon enough.

Really, No Impact Man, you've leveraged your new lifestyle (one that many folks already adhere to without the need to self promote) into a book and a movie deal?

Do you recommend I read the book before seeing the movie or could I save a couple of trees by skipping ahead to the film?

Just curious.

Wolfpack Hustle = Quentin Tarantino

Got a tip from a reader that I thought was worth sharing.

This is the intro to the skate video Fully Flared which was released last year by the Lakai shoe company.



Even though I haven't ridden a skateboard since the time Marty McFly made riding a skateboard cool back in the in the summer of '85, I'm still struggling to get my jaw off the floor after watching that rather impressive display of skating and explosions.

Now here's a trailer from the Wolfpack for their upcoming video documenting the second running of their "All City Team Race" which went down over Labor Day weekend.


Wolfpack All City Team Race 2 TEASER from Bicykiller on Vimeo.

Anything sound familiar?

Now that they've fully Borg'd messenger culture it looks like borrowing from skaters is the next stop on the Wolfpack train.

At this rate, M83's Lower Your Eyelids to Die with the Sun will be the new Battle Without Honor or Humanity. Once Quentin Tarantino lifted that song and brought it to the masses, it took less than a year for it become the title track for the ubiquitous cliche.

M83, when you're cashing those royalty checks when your song is used to promote the release Apple's next iPod, do you think you could kick a little something the Wolfpack's way? A lot of those guys are riding around the big city on bikes with no brakes and that's just not safe.

This guy probably likes Coke and Pepsi equally well.

Wearing a DeRosa jersey while riding a Pinarello is the sort of faux pas only a cyclist could commit because the only ones who notice such errors in judgment are other cyclists and we all know cyclists don't know how to beat anyone up.

However if we were in the Dirty South and our Italian loving cyclist decided to cross the streams by driving a Ford F150 plastered with Chevy stickers, someone would be strung up a flag pole faster than a meth head Waffle House cook could fry up an order of hash browns.

Here's how you can tell this lady is from England.

She wears her fanny pack on the front.

Douchebags of the week: Anyone not named Lance Armstrong riding in the 2009 Tour de France

After this week's big announcement, my first thought was how bored does Lance Armstrong have to be to decide that training for and racing in Le Tour is a better alternative to doing anything else?

Then I crunched a few numbers and ran a few equations through my trusty TI-35 and realized Lance is mounting a comeback for not just for awareness of The Cancer but mainly because his seemingly bottomless booty well has done dried up and next summer is looking like mighty slim pickins unless he wants to hang out behind the counter at Mellow Johnny's and pick up hipster chicks.

Here why this is true.

1) The Olsen twins are not the Olsen triplets or quadruplets. Once you ad Mary Kate and Ashley to your long, but distinguished list, that it. You're done. You're out. No more Olsen twins left to bang.

2) Matthew McConaughey, Lance's number 1 wingman is out of the game. In case you missed that issue of US Weekly, Wooderson knocked up a chick and decided to stick around to be a daddy. And until it becomes one with the earth Matthew's going to be too busy dealing with would be placenta snatchers to worry about chasing tail with Lance.

3) Lance already poached Kate Hudson from his buddy Luke Wilson. Humping an ex of your buddy is bad form. Humping two of your buddy's ex's is the stuff that gets a Maxim reporter stalking you as the target in a shocking expose'.

On top of that. Could next year's roster in Le Tour be any weaker?

Hmm... let's see.

Ricardo Ricco got booted.

Floyd Landis is gonna be on the new version of Health Net. Yeah, I don't think they'll be getting an invite.

Ivan Basso should be back but how strong will he be with out the juice?

Jan Ulrich could come back but strudel doesn't eat itself.

Carlos Sastre- not unless the he'll be testing rocket bikes for the Cervelo Test Team.

Jonathan Vaughters will find a way for Christian Vande Velde to crash.

Then you've got the Schleck brothers- Frank and Andy. I think the only way that's gonna happen is if Bjarne can find away to fuse them together to become Frandy Schleck.

Too bad Andy couldn't have been Frank's vanishing twin. That's about the only hope the Schleck sisters have at taking down The Boss.

Ladies and Gentlemen, your Los Angeles Triathlon Winner

Saw a lot of craziness out on the road Sunday during the LA Triathlon but like the venerable Highlander there can only be one ultimate douchebag on a bike and here is your winner.

Sweet, sweet Jeebus. What kind of high stakes bet did this guy have to lose? Sponge Bob vest(?), recumbent, already on running shoes for a speedy transition to the run.

I do have one question though. If a recumbent is such a superior machine, (and you know that this guy, like every other recumbent owner is quick to point out how 'bents were banned from Le Tour de France after it was decided they were "too fast") why does this guy need a mirror mounted up on his? If he were really tearin' up the road, why does he need to worry about what's going on behind him?

Gallery of Sweetness: Los Angeles Triathlon Edition

Yesterday Los Angeles was bisected by a ribbon of yellow tape so that the participants in the LA Triathlon could have 24.8 miles of roads all to themselves. Had LA's own Wolfpack been able to scrape together the $55 needed to do the "bike only" portion and most importantly developed the stamina required to wake up before noon, they could have had themselves a nice little "hustle." But nope, I only saw one fixed gear out on the course.

Saw some other great stuff out there but I haven't yet had the chance to get my lil' Fun Saver dropped off at the last remaining photo lab.

In the meantime here's some great action shots from last year to hold you over.

Maybe you wouldn't struggle so much if you did only one thing at a time. Get your gloves on and then start chomping on your Powerbar. Or better yet, leave the gloves at home.

I like the preparation here. Got the number for the run already on and set to go and just in the earth decides to go out of orbit and crash into the sun, she's wearing enough sunscreen to not feel the burn.

Nice "o" face. Maybe you'd go faster if you weren't dry humping your seat. And put on a damn shirt.

Here's a good rule to live by, if you can afford a TT helmet with a built-in visor, you can afford to get a spare visor that's tinted- unless of course you're more concerned with forehead protection rather than an aerodynamic advantage.

Douchebags of the week: MPLS Critical Mass

Like many folks curious to know what's going on in the world around them, I spent a huge chunk of time following the Republican National Convention coverage and must say that I'm horribly disappointed in the work of today's Anarchists.

Sure, I saw some unnecessarily brutal action at the hand of the "fascist police" but on the other hand I have to say I'm more appalled that the protesters didn't put up much of a fight. Granted, preparation and anarchy don't exactly go together like peas and carrots but having four years to prepare should be ample time to organize something decent. In all the footage I watched didn't see a single protester who saved up the money for a proper gas mask. Instead, they all took off on their first run since senior year gym class the moment the po-po broke out the tear gas and concussion grenades. Seriously, The Orphans would have done better.

At the very least I thought Critical Mass would have been a shining beacon of civil protest and so did Minneapolis' crack Fox News Team. Check this out:



And here's the only RNC Critical Mass clip I could find:



Really? That's all the MPLS Critical Mass Krew had to offer the one week when the whole world was watching?

For shame.

Even a mid-winter Critical Mass in Nova Scotia is a rowdier event.

When does a cliche' become a parody?

A too big for its rider fixed gear turned brake having single speed incorrectly locked up outside an American Apparel store. The negative rise stem and riser bar combo is always winner.

I just wonder if the bike belonged to a shopper (I did go inside but couldn't tell since everyone looked the same) or to American Apparel and is locked up outside every morning like hipster bait.

Really? Somebody bought one?

Behold, the Mogo Kickbike in the flesh.

I just wonder why it was locked up. Was it to prevent a do gooding passerby from tossing it out in front of an oncoming bus in an effort to make the world a slightly better place? Or was it that this Mogo's owner is still making his three easy payments of $79.99?

You've got the kit, the attitude, but way too much leg hair

The other day during my two wheeled commute I was passed by the fellow you see here.

I thought this occurrence was odd for two reasons: 1) Nine out 10 days I'm usually the only cyclist on this particular stretch of road. 2) When this chap squeezed by me between speeding traffic there was nary a "good morning" or even a lowly "on your left."

Nope. All I got was a whoosh of air and the momentary discomfort of someone else's handlebars being little too close for comfort- a nifty disturbance in The Force that I haven't felt since the days of being a Cat. V.

Then, about a split second later, I realized I didn't deserve any kind of salutation because the lowly plebe writing this was being passed by an honest to goodness PRO cyclist. Had to be a PRO. No doubt because really, who would buy a Health Net kit?

Instantly, I realized that I shouldn't be feeling offended but flattered that a PRO had even choose to allow me to ride on the same street as him. All it would have taken was one quick radio message and his support vehicle would have ran me off the road right quick.

Then I caught up to him and noticed an unsightly growth of leg hair that's denser than what's left of the Amazon rain forest. Seriously, it'd take a couple rounds of my uncle's backyard napalm to smooth out the situation.

And the best part is I had enough time to dig out my phone and snap a picture of this clearance rack PRO before the light turned green. If he would have had the basic etiquette required to even acknowledge the presence of another cyclist with three feet of him, he wouldn't have had his picture taken.

Instead, he's just another douchebag on a bike.

Douchebags of the Week: Anyone Riding a Bike at Burning Man

Does paying $295 to spend a week roasting in the desert surrounded by modern day hippies letting their freak flags fly sound like a good time to you?

If it does, you probably aren't reading this because you're currently at Burning Man. Unless of course you've got your solar powered Macbook rigged up to the world's largest wireless Internet antenna. In that case I'm flattered by your dedicated readership but I still think you're a giant douchebag for going to Burning Man.

If you've never heard of Burning Man, here's how the organizers describe it.

Trying to explain what Burning Man is to someone who has never been to the event is a bit like trying to explain what a particular color looks like to someone who is blind.

Obviously whoever wrote that has never seen Mask. That Rocky Dennis sure figured out a way to make that happen.

It's hard to put this into words without sounding like the Unibomber but there's something that really chaps my hide about people loading up their Land Rovers with fur covered bikes to run off to the desert to eat a bunch of Ecstasy and play dirty hippie for a week.

Really, couldn't all that time, effort and money spent to go to Burning Man be put to better use saving dolphins and/or find homes for orphans? I just wonder how of many of this year's tribe are wasting a week in the desert while their SUVs sit parked with "Free Darfur" bumper stickers.

I tell you what, if the terriosts of the world ever felt like going on a mission to get some positive PR for their cause, dropping a dirty nuke or two over Burning Man would be a good place to start.

Don't believe me? Just watch the video.

Prison, Coma, or Cross Cultural Dating Experiment?

The other night, I was out for a stroll in the in the neighborhood when this pristine Trek 9800 circa 1995 stopped me in my tracks.

It's not every day you see a mid 90's Trek MTB still in a fully functional state since most of them didn't live to see the year 2000. At least the ones that were ridden the way nature intended anyway.

Oh man, this bike really floored me. On anthropological level, it's a perfect example of the long faded mountain bike boom, whose mushroom cloud of off road fun sucked me in hard back in 1993. What I really liked about this particular bike is that with the exception of the out of place White Brothers sticker on the seat tube (usually when people "upgraded" their Judy springs the sticker went on the fork to let those around know that you mean business) and the carbon fiber power sticks, there really isn't a part on this bike that was indicative of all the bad mountain bike gear of the last century.

No Girvin Flexstem, AMP Fork, or $200 purple anodized CNC'd cantilever brakes that couldn't stop a turd from rolling down a hill.

Everything on this bike is rock solid and if you look close you'll notice that nothing on this bike (except for maybe the carbon fiber power sticks) has been upgraded since 1998. You can tell by the empty cable hanger dangling from the seat clamp that this bike probably got a V-brake update in 1997. The screaming yellow Judy SL is definitely from 1997 as I had the same one on my own bike back then. And if I can recall correctly the Trek 9800 came stock with the non-colored Judy- the one where the revolutionary damping cartridge would blow out the moment the fork felt a bump for the first time.

Then finally, the WTB SST 1998 saddle is a no brainer for year and I'd put the Race Face stem at about that time too as '98 was when Race Face was starting to become a hot product south of Canadia. What I like is that this guy probably had no reason to get a new stem and had upgrade fever but not a strong enough strain to pony up to Race Face cranks.

As I finished going through the upgrade timeline on this bike, I started to get a weird feeling.

What kind of self respecting mountain biker would suddenly stop upgrading his bike after 1998?

Seriously, there's not a part this bike from the 21st century. What could have been the circumstances that prevented this guy from going through way too much trouble and expense to try and force disc brakes on to his bike?

Was he in prison?

A coma?

Or maybe, just maybe, he was a guy who hasn't touched his mountain bike in 10 years but summoned up the courage to ask the hipster receptionist at his office on a date under the pretense that he too enjoys urban cycling?

Take at the beat street mixte on the other side of the bike rack. Notice how it's sharing a lock with the Trek. Well, you can't really say sharing since the u-lock really doesn't have the chick bike on lock down since it's merely shackled around the seat post. Then again I doubt a bike thief would even bother to take the time to simply remove the seat post in order to embarrass himself by dashing off on a girl's bike.

Then look close at the Trek's chain. The entire bike is immaculate except for the rusted out chain. Has someone been keeping their bike on their balcony for a few years too long? Can the bike even shift gears?

While species cross breeding can certainly be a good thing to maintain a good gene pool, I hate to say that even if our fella played every one of his cards right, he still struck out on the night.

Because there's no way a girl is going to be in the mood after cruising around town on seat set up at such a horrific vagina busting angle.

Are you with me, girlfriends?

Can't stop the Rock

Reader December9 spotted a trio of Rock Racing guys over the weekend and he sprinted (0n foot) across a parking lot just in time to snag a couple action shots of Rock Racing doing what they do best- scoffing at the man and his stupid rules.

In this case, we've got Rahsaan Bahaiti, Freddie Rodriguez, and Rock Racing's Supreme Ruler Michael Ball * illustrating to those around them that stop lights don't exist in Rock Racing's world.

In the second photo you can see that Ball's crew at least had the decency and common sense not to go Midnight Ridazz on a Saturday morning and roll right into on coming traffic. Rather, they made a right turn on red which was more than likely a legal maneuver. But you can tell by the first photo that they hung a Reggie from the left turn lane which even on the lawless roads of Los Angeles is pretty much the Triple Lindy of douchebag moves in the Douchebag Driver's Manual.

Keep up the good work, Rock. Way to live up to your bad ass reputation.

* Just in case you were asking yourself How does he know that is was Rahsaan, Freddie, and Michael in the picture and not just three guys who each plunked down $440 for their very own Rock kit?

Well, for starters I'm just that good. And secondly, late Saturday morning I received a frantically excited phone call from a friend who had the "privilege" of being on the same stretch of road with these guys, and the first words out of his mouth were "Duuuude, Michael Ball- he's not a dick!"

Criminal Week Continues!

Over the weekend a flaming haired gent by the name of Gary Allen Lintz was arrested for allegedly starting fires in the 48oo acre tinder box known as Griffith Park.

Gary

Mr. Lintz, whose resume boasts a previous arson conviction and an impressive array of public intoxication violations was nabbed by an undercover unit as he left the scene of a freshly sparked fire by trying to blend in with a group of cyclists.

His only problem was that he didn't exactly blend in as he was dressed like an arsonist and the other cyclists were dressed like cyclists.

"Lintz stood out because he was not dressed in racing apparel. "He didn't fit in with the other bicyclers," Miller said."

As awesome as it is that the cops are out there making a difference, ol' Gary really needs brush up on his criminal skills. Not that I'm entirely versed in such matters but shouldn't a marginally sane criminal's number one goal be to not get caught? Sure, he probably thought laying down a few hundred bucks to make a proper "cyclist disguise" was a waste of beer and lighter money but that amount is chump change compared to his $75, 000 bail.

Now poor Gary's in jail staring at the ceiling and mentally kicking himself for at very least not storing his gas in one of them "bike bottles." Oh well, maybe if Gary's lucky he can tune in an episode or two of "CHiP's" on the jail house TV and get some pointers because even the dumbest of criminals were always able to make it to the end of a show before getting reeled in by Ponch and John.

Douchebag Showdown: Igor vs Tiny.

We've got an epic battle for you on your Monday. We're talking North vs South. East vs West. Methhead vs Criminally Insane. USA vs Canadia.

If you haven't heard (and I must say I'm flattered and ashamed all at once if I'm your source for breaking news) a fellow by the name of Igor was arrested in Toronto and charged with the theft of 2, 396 bicycles.

Igor

Along with "mounds of bikes" stolen from hipsters only to be sold back to hipsters. Other pieces of contraband police found in Igor's possession were: Crack cocaine, original cocaine, 15lbs of weed (thanks NY Times for converting lbs to kilos) and a stolen bronze sculpture of a Centaur and a snake in battle.

Here in Los Angeles, our version of Igor was busted about a year ago. His name is Tiny and despite stealing "only" hundreds of bicycles what he lacked in sheer volume was more than made up for in the creepiness factor.

Tiny

While Igor assembled a merry band of thieves from Tornoto's mentally ill talent pool, (I'm assuming he took advantage of the fact that crazy people are easy to manipulate) Tiny acquired his bicycles through the insatiability of a meth head's need to score more meth. His payment plan was pretty simple, steal bike get a little meth.

Unless of course Tiny was feeling a little frisky himself. Then, according to the journalistic juggernaut that is the WeHo News- “He would sit and smoke meth and force them to commit fellatio on him before he might allow them to smoke some meth,” said Dept. Yanecko.

Oh and the best part? Tiny ran a bagel shop. His jizz coated and meth seared hands were touching food.

I've never been so glad to be a donut eater in my whole life.

Any of you care to weigh in on who was worse?

Douchebag of the Week: The Venice Beach Bike Path Fascist

Good news ma'am, you're not the Venice Beach Bike Path Fascist (btw, you were going to be called a Nazi but I'm trying to not hurt the feelings of my sensitive readership) but yesterday you were the best, most glowing example of bike path fascism I could find so congratulations!

When you blew my doors off by passing me on the sand covered pavement at a high rate of speed, I must admit I had to work up an insta-sweat just to keep up with you. Since I like to consider myself as not being a douchebag, I don't have computer mounted to my beach cruiser but I am comfortable in saying that you were going fast enough that riding out on the open road would be the more practical option.

You were riding clipped in with a nice and quick cadence- so nice that you could have been a text book example of perfect form so why would you want to sully your ride by having to dodge the morons who flock to Venice Beach?

I mean really, if the beach goers who descend upon the rusty syringe filled sand to frolic in Venice's fart and hepatitis scented waters aren't morons, they're Europeans who aren't used to seeing people riding bikes like assholes. So cut them a little slack.

Come on lady, you're on the beach. Relax a little. Though I must say it was pretty funny hearing you bellow out "You gotta move it" in your surprisingly husky voice when the couple strolling their illegitimate child down the bike path paused to light their cigarettes.

What shocked me much more than your unexpected baritone was the fact that when you slowed up you coasted! WTF? You were astride a General Lee orange Masi and you had it set up with a freewheel? For shame! How do you even sleep at night? Even my mom rides a fixed gear.

Just for even having a freewheel on your bike you really can't dork your bike up any worse by adding a bell. Come on lady, there's small children around who have better things to do on a summer day than be being scared to death by the neon bike monster.

Making the non-job of bike theivery as easy as possible

Went for a stroll to a nearby Coffee Bean yesterday and the first thing to greet me was an uber-rare Canyon Ultimate CF. I took one look at the sexy carbon fiber wonderbike and my jaw nearly hit the ground. Then about half a second later my mandible got all the way to the gum speckled pavement when I realized its owner was nowhere to be found.

Well actually, I found him inside The Bean (assuming someone wasn't just wearing Lycra for the heck of it) and not even anywhere near his bike. From where he was sitting you couldn't even see the top of the saddle.

It's not every day that you see a Campy Record equipped bike that's not even available in the states treated worse than a dumpster baby but once again I'm reminded that anything is possible on the Westside.

What really chapped my hide though was this sweet bike was so new and minty fresh that the size decal was still on the back of the seat tube.

If I rode a 56 and didn't still feel guilty about the cherry tomato I once stole from a Pizza Hut salad bar in the early 80's I might have been tempted to help myself to a free bike. Instead, I grudgingly sat on the patio reading the paper and looking up every now and again to make sure nobody rode off on a bike that wasn't theirs.

Then, when our big city rube was ready to continue his ride, I tailed him all the way back to his house to see where he lived because if he's the kind of guy to leave a bike like this unlocked, then he's obviously the kind of guy who'd who'd set up his home theater system in the front yard and leave the keys his Canyonero at night.

USA! USA!

The fanny pack is where the gold medals go.

Who wears short shorts?

HE wears short shorts.

Guess there's always a first time for everything. In this particular case, it's my first time ever seeing a dude in hot pants who was just a dude wearing hot pants.

I checked him out from all sides and his hot pants weren't accessorized with a back alley boob job or a $3 wig crammed under his helmet. I shouldn't have been surprised though as this dude was riding a carbon fiber bicycle and not pushing a shopping cart like your typical transvestite hooker.

This dude was just a dude. A man's man who enjoys wearing hot pants.

I just hope someday, preferably in the not too distant future for the sake of the innocent public, this sporting chap takes a moment to check his reflection as he pedals past a giant storefront window.

Maybe if we're lucky the sun will be at its most opportune angle and this hot pants wearing dude's reflection will be bounced back to him so crystal clear he might as well be watching himself on HDTV and then, only if we're really lucky, he'll ask himself "Do my meaty thighs really jiggle that much when I pedal?"

Yes dude. Your thighs jiggle. A lot. And it's pretty gross.

Maybe sometime when you're out for a ride, you could do us all a favor and tally up how many other dudes you see wearing hot pants. Then you could take whatever shockingly low number you come up with over to your local scientist and/or zoologist and he or she could explain to you in candid scientifically backed detail all the reasons why human males shouldn't wear be wearing hot pants.

My guess is "it's just wrong" would be at the top of the list.

Douchebags of the week: The Crimanimalz

On one level you've gotta look at the Crimanimalz and think to yourself, "Self: America has come pretty far if the only worthwhile thing left for "activists" to protest is being treated unfairly at Critical Mass."

But then you realize that this alleged "mistreatment" didn't occur on the rough and tumble dog eat dog streets of New York or San Francisco but on the breezy boulevards of Santa Monica.

That's right. Santa Monica. Bitch, please.

Even thought its most famous landmark is a Ferris Wheel overlooking the ocean, the land of Jack Tripper, is actually an oppressive police state with the 3rd St. Promenade doubling as Tiananmen Square on Critical Mass nights.

While riding on the freeway might have been somewhat cool but ultimately lacking in the testicles department as riding amongst parked cars isn't all that dangerous, the butt hurt Crimanimalz elevated their game to new low by staging a protest against the tyrannical SMPD by clogging a crosswalk and causing a traffic jam much to the dismay of innocent bystanders just trying to get somewhere on a Friday night.

Next time you go into battle Crimanimalz, please, do us all a favor and try to be a little steadier with the camera.

Bicyclists Strike back at Santa Monica
Uploaded by thepeoplesride

What's lamer than riding your bike on the sidewalk?

Riding your recumbent on the sidewalk, natch.

Be sure not to miss the seatbag/cooler combo.

Douchebag of the Week: Kate Hudson

Riding a bike, drinking an iced coffee and not watching where she's going. Nice

Please, feel free to stop for a sip of water in the middle of the bike path. That's never annoying to anyone else on a bike. Besides, Kate, you're a celebrity. That bike path should feel honored that you're riding it.

What kind of mom are you, Kate? Way to set a good example with your lack of helmet. I won't even mention the torment that you caused the poor guy in the photo with you.

But then there's the issue with your recent boyfriend who was also this fella's friend. Whatever two month hell you put him through, it was obviously enough for him to consider coming out of retirement to compete in the Leadville 100 to be a better option than hanging out with you.

Nobody tells the Wu Tang Clan where to ride.

Took a little stroll along the concrete beach boardwalk yesterday. I was minding my own business and enjoying the breezy day when I was snapped to attention courtesy of the horrific sound of a skidding fixed gear wheel.

Seems this guy (the one with the arrow pointing him out) was in such a hurry to make his delivery, (because only bike messenger would need to wear a Chrome bag the size of a studio apartment, right?) he couldn't be bothered with the hassle of having to ride his bike on the bike path that was located a mere 10 feet from the pedestrian only walk way.

Five minutes later I found his bike shackled in front of a bar. Hmm... maybe Big Enos and Little Enos made a bet with him regarding a case of Coors? Too bad we'll never know though, because I don't think someone who goes through the trouble to make their fixed gear a Wu Tang Clan bike would be any good at holding up his end of the conversation.

I wonder of RZA approves?

Douchebags on the YouTube...

Searched for "douchebags on bikes" on the You Tube and was greeted by the following nuggets of joy.



Thanks to this handy cultural dissertation I'm beginning to understand the point of even posting this video. While I attempt to dissect its deeper meaning, I shall light a candle in honor of the noble bicycle mechanic who had to ruin this mail order happy chap's day with the dire news that building wheels costs actual money.

Now this next one's just creepy. I'm going to go out on a limb and a moment such as this is step one on the path to becoming a serial killer.



However, I do like that the driver/cameraman/commentator had the foresight to stop the camera before the light changed. Not only does it add an air of mystery to clip but most importantly a possibly very key piece of evidence simply doesn't exist.

"No officer, I didn't run over the cyclist, I was merely talking about running him over as you can see by this video clip. I only taped him and shared my thoughts on the matter because, as I believe you'll agree with me, it's pretty stupid make an ass of yourself by wearing a safety vest only to run red lights."

Finally, thanks to the magic of the You Tube's related videos column, I stumbled upon this little gem. Suddenly, seeing a dude in his sister's jeans riding a pursuit bike on the sidewalk can now be thought of as a beacon of hope for better future and not as a sign that the end is near.

So long as granny is still alive and shootin' anyway.

Douchebag of the Week: Dr. Christopher Thompson

While the good Dr. Thompson most likely hasn't ever been on a bike, at the very least he's had a bike on and a cyclist in his car thanks to being the instrumental cog in an "alleged" road rage incident that happened in Los Angeles' Mandeville Canyon this past 4th of July.



Well, the douchebag move of the century got Dr. Thompson an arraignment in court today. While he wasn't making any statements, he did have a publicist on hand to artfully dodge questions and plead for the death threats against Dr. Thompson to come to a halt.

Please people, even though Dr. Thompson "allegedly" tried to kill a couple people, death threats aren't nice.

Wearing your little sister's pants could endanger your life

An earthquake gave a little jolt to SoCal yesterday and the moment was captured on tape by a bike shop's security camera.

Watch the video and pay attention to the last guy out the door.



Did you notice how he was running like a bow legged duck because his pants were too tight? Just another reason why you shouldn't shop in the tween section at The Gap.

I also like how far he was behind his co-workers. He must have been too busy posting on LA Fixed to notice the earth shaking.

Critical Mass Bad Ass...

Drinking Guinness might put a little hair on your chest but it doesn't make you any less of a douchebag.

Le Tour may be over but the Maillot Jaune marches on...

If you're anything like me, you've accidentally clicked over in the general direction of VeloNews for a Tour update only to be reminded that the riders crossed the finish line yesterday.

While we detox from three weeks of lukewarm excitement, here's a dose of yellow to keep the shakes away.

While wearing a Maillot Jaune that was bought instead of earned is cycling's equivalent of an aspiring hockey player dropping a massive deuce in the Stanley Cup, you gotta give this wearer of the Golden Fleece a little credit. I spotted him atop a mountain as opposed to the neighborhood bike path.

Even though it might have taken him two years (note the date) he still made it to the top.

Everyone Loves a Douchebag Montage

This is the C.R.A.N.K. Mob a magnificent example of why drivers sometimes get angry at cyclists.



"Outlaw Bicycle Parties" are good times until people bust out the spray paint and start stealing from each other.

Douchebag Ride of the Week

The bike you're peeping is an uber rare Phil Wood Kiss-Off made by the good folks at Independent Fabrication.

Under normal circumstances a collaboration, as the kids say, between Phil Wood and IF results in an classic bike for the ages.

However, the owner of this whip has proven that in the easy steps you can turn a bike of impeccable taste into the whip of choice for the douchebag set.

Here's how:

1) Take a perfectly nice unpainted titanium frame and slather it in a coat of Butt Ugly Yellow.

2) Opt not to use handle bar tape to "keep it street."

3) When you realize you spent too much money on Iron Man's car, throw your bike up on the eBay and blame the forced sale on your "long femors" not on the fact that you bought a car that's worth more than the houses across the street. Now the important step here is to make sure the bulk of the your listing's photos show off the car as much as the bike.

Sadly, our fella wasn't even able to get a lowly $1600 for a bike whose frame is pushing 4 g's. The auction ended yesterday with nary a bid. If you contact the seller, I betcha he'll take a low ball offer of a thousand bucks or so.

The end of the month is fast approaching and someone's gotta make a car payment.

And the award for Douchebag of the Week goes to...

Ricardo Ricco, natch.

"It's no fair! Nobody told me there was a test for CERA."

As we all know, the Chris Farley of the cycling world emulated his hero just a little too much and got pinched by the po-po under the charges of using a poisonous substance.

Being that Ricco's only 24, he can bounce back from whatever suspension he receives and will have a few years left before he's due to OD on the cocaine just like his hero Il Pirata.

In the meantime, when are we going to wisen up and realize that any team, person, or organization which featuring the word Cobra probably isn't the good guy?

There's a fine line between douchebag and nerd...

And that line is the difference between riding a bike made for normal people and a recumbent bike.

Double Bento Boxes, auxiliary handlebar mounted water bottles. seat bigger than Barcelona Chairs, yeah the only thing keeping this bike's douchebag status in good standing is the fact that it isn't a recumbent.

What CSC did on their rest day from Le Tour.

Apparently Bjarne coaxed a Concord out of retirement and took Team CSC on a nice little rest day field trip to Venice Beach.

At first look this sporting chap had all the makings of a classic Westside douchebag on a bike but the black headband under the limited edition Vinokourov Oakley's of shame got me thinking this guy was a little different.

And boy was he. Unlike most guys you see riding $8,000 bikes this guy was actually friendly. He greeted me with a "What's up 'bro" and for the next couple miles we rode together and chatted about all things cycling.

My nugget of wisdom he dispensed during our chat was regarding the hook of ol Lance and Kate Hudson.

"Oh dude. Man, if she looked like she did in 'Almost Famous' all the time she'd be boners. But she was just so depressing in 'You, me and Dupree' I don't know man. I don't know."

Guess he's just a reminder that not all guys wearing neon sunglasses are douchebags.