Forgiving the triple and EPMS, Pineapple Bob shows us how Looking Fantastic is done.
Whenever I do anything, I try my best to project the confidence of Han Solo leaving the cantina after cooking Greedo which has been scientifically proven to be the maximum possible score on the Casually Deliberate Scale. Being Casually Deliberate comes down to two fundamental units of knowledge that you must hold unwaveringly within your heart: That you Look Fantastic and that You are Awesome at What You Do. Greedo never stood a chance; he hardly had a name tag.
I consider it my personal and professional responsibility to Look Fantastic at All Times whether on the bike, at the office (nothing but Maison Martin Margiela touches this body), at home, or at social engagements (at which times I will allow Rick Owens to mingle in the palate). The secret being, of course, that if you Look Fantastic, you appear twice as competent as you actually are to the casual observer – which is almost everyone these days because no one pays attention anymore.
The Cogal of the Falling Leaves was a cruel mistress, almost sinister. I dreaded the ride a bit, cursing Midsummer Frank who chose such a tough route, basking in his Midsummer Form, oblivious to what kind of horrible shape October Frank would be in. Midsummer Frank is a dick.
Courage is knowing what suffering lies down the road and setting forth nevertheless, but Courage is also a clueless twat about how humbling it is to helplessly watch the group ride away from you on hill after hill, a sensation I’m not entirely accustomed to. Each time, I could barely manage bridging back up just in time for the next hill so I could slip uselessly away again like a teflon-coated stone.
Eventually, the hills were too close together for me to bridge up, and I was cut adrift like a dinghy at sea.
I set off down the road alone while the group refueled at a rest station, not wanting to stop and lose whatever rhythm I’d regained, knowing full well that I was beyond a point where refuelling would be of use. Here it was just me, alone with the hum of my tires and the completely detached sense of ownership of my legs. I wish I’d grabbed the Good Legs from the garage today, but alas I hadn’t.
What kept me going, more than anything, was the knowledge that however slow I was going, I still looked a proper Cyclist, with my kit perfectly in place, my sunnies tucked neatly away in the vents of my helmet, jaw agape, and my perfectly curated machine carrying me along the way. I knew I looked resplendent while pedalling smoothly, the muscle-memory of countless hours accumulated pedalling a bike during my lifetime took over; shoulders steady, head low, legs on autopilot.
Being out of shape at this time of year, with the cold and wet months approaching is a solemn reality. There is nothing welcoming to the common Cyclist: the days are short and cold and getting out during the workweek is an act of true dedication. Kitting up in my finest Nine Kit or my Flandrian Best, emulating the Hardmen is what encourages me to set out onto the road to start the long journey back to fitness.
Looking Fantastic might not be all there is to Cycling, but at times like this, it’s all I got.
VLVV.
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"Midsummer Frank is a dick"
Just Midsummer Frank?
I keed, I keed. There was plenty of Looking Fantastic to go around. Especially impressive in this department were the gentlemen who started stripping layers at the top of the first climb (did anyone ever administer the demerits earned for taking so damn long for changing a flat, or was it chalked up to immediately flatting again?). Well played, those who weren't afraid of exposing lots of skin on a damp morning. Or Bob (Bob?) with the classic pink wool jersey and matching cap.
Not sure how riding on table flat roads with a triple equipped bike fits in with looking fantastic but oh well...
@Eddie
You watch yourself, that's Pineapple Bob. Who are you again?
...and you missed the EPMS. Pay attention, pedalwan!
(I did consider Photoshopping that crap out, but you have to admit; PB is Cash Del as Hell!)
My father told me from a very young age
" If you can't play the game, at least look like you can "
Words to live by
This is what I think I look like!
....then I get passed.
@Frank Never made mention of PBs abilties. He called attention to his appearance not skills and I commented on said appearance. Simple as that. Doesn't matter who I am its not a pissing contest but I can tell you I have enough years and miles to not be a pedalwannabe like so many fat wallet posers these days so watch yourself.
"Courage is knowing what suffering lies down the road and setting forth nevertheless, but Courage is also a clueless twat"
Considering this as a tattoo. Brilliant.
Even the Fresians in the photo are "Casually Deliberate"
First time I hear about Pineapple Bob... I found a 1992 interview with Grant Petersen from Bridgestone which explains.
CK: Tell us about Pineapple Bob.
GP: In 1985 we had an advertising agency doing our ads and I didn't think they were doing a very good job of selling the bikes, so I and a few other people expressed our dissatisfaction with the ads. So the president at the time said "Do you think you could do any better?" I said "yeah" and he said "O.K., you be our advertising agency. So we needed a model and everyone looks fatter in pictures, so you need someone with just phenomenal legs for them to even look normal. Well, Robert has the best legs around and he looks like a six day rider in Europe or something. His legs are just amazing and you start with something good like that and you've got the leg thing covered, anyway. He's also a good rider, he's easy to work with and he's a friendly guy that I get along with personally, too. He's a good friend, so we just use him for our ads.
CK: How did you know him and how did he get his name?
GP: I didn't know him then. We hung around the same bike shop, Hiroshi's Jitensha Studio in Berkeley, and I sort of made the connection there. Hiroshi's daughter, Natsumi, named him Pineapple Bob because there were two or three other Bobs that hung around the bike shop. Robert grew up in Hawaii and his hair shoots out like a pineapple so she called him Pineapple Bob just to differentiate him from the other Bobs. By the way, I don't call him Pineapple Bob. Mostly his friends call him Robert. I'd only call him Pineapple Bob if I was joking around. By the way, don't go a whole lot into this in your article, because we like to keep him a mystery and anonymous. He's going to be in a video that we're doing, but he's not going to have a speaking role.
This is what I think I look like...
But I probably look more like this...