Have a look around to see who you find occupying your immediate vicinity. Presently, I am surrounded by a pleasant-seeming bunch. Some are even going so far as to appear happy or at least not displeased; all of them are pale and none of them fit. My attention is drawn, however, to a a portly mustached gentleman who strode into the hotel lobby with an enormous degree of self confidence and who as such feels justified in wearing an ill-fitting t-shirt bearing a phrase which asserts that real men wear orange. While I have no reason to disagree with the assertion, I assume he is optimistic that through wearing said t-shirt, he will be mistaken for a “real man” and is not in fact attempting to disprove the point through contrast.
I’m not picking on this gent not because I’m harboring any sense of ill-will towards him, nor for the fact that he strode into the hotel lobby carrying a twelve pack of Yuengling Black and Tan. I’m picking on him mostly because I have come to understand that “real men” are capable of crushing things like soda cans and their opponents’ Will to Live, while from the looks of it, the only thing he’s crushed lately was a ham sandwich whose remnants I’m fairly certain I spotted on the front of his bright orange t-shirt.
Surprisingly, our Orange Hero isn’t even the most disappointing case in the room I’m occupying. The guy in the camouflage, knee-long shorts and flip-flops is an example at least two degrees worse; if he harbors hopes of blending in to anything – most of all foliage – I suggest he spend some time outside to brew himself up a tan that goes beyond TV Translucent (I’m not sure what the pantone value is for that). He should also try lifting his computer some time, to build muscle mass, rather than wheeling it about in a trolly. But worst of all by a considerable gap is the skinny-fat chap with carefully disheveled hair who is presently chastising the bartender – who is serving free drinks to hotel patrons – for not having his preferred brand of vodka on hand. If this guy took half the time he spent worrying about his hair and invested it in not worrying about his free drink, he’d be three-quarters less of a douche. (My dad would call this guy a zacht gekookt ei, or soft-boiled egg.)
All this to say that as a society we have, by and large, become soft. While I want to be careful not to paint too broadly with that brush as no one is to say what hardships people have been through, on balance we seem to expect to take more and to be asked to give less in return. Our ancestors worked harder than we did, in worse conditions, for less reward but found satisfaction in a job well done and an honest day’s work. Yet today, we are overly dependent on t-shirts to send a message about who we are rather than our actions. We fill our conversations with sentiments of entitlement and rights, when in fact we are entitled to nothing and we have the right only to the things we find within ourselves.
As Cyclists, however easy our lives may be, the bicycle brings us some degree of hardship and struggle. For many of us, our easy lives are what draw us to the bicycle in pursuit of a harder life. This is, of course, in stark contrast that to the riders who came before us, the legion of Fausto Coppi, Rik van Looy, and even the comparatively well-off Eddy Merckx who chose the bicycle as a means of escape from a harder life into an easier one. But nevertheless, it sets us appart. The lessons the bicycle teaches us can be applied to the rest of our lives, and may be used to guide the uninitiated.
Our pets go untrained because we are too busy, distracted, or stressed out to show them the discipline they crave. Our children scream as our dependence on secondary care blurs the boundary between parent and friend. Society’s BMI is pushed ever upward as our appetite for a meal grows inversely with our willingness to exercise. By and large, our dependence on the material is fueled by the immaterial.
No child is too young, no adult too old. This is the time to Obey the Rules, Lead by Example, and Guide the Uninitiated. But most of all, this is the time for us to set an example and have The Talk. The Rule #5 Talk. And remember what Will Fotheringham refers to as Rule #5.b: Eddy Never Complained.
VLVV.
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sthilzy - Woah, that's a really cool photo! Wish I had one of me on some of my first bikes.
Love that simple watch! When did it become so cool to wear a brick on one's wrist? Seems like both men & women are wearing enormous watches these days. I like a slim, light one, less weight on the arms when cycling.
And sweet adidas socks! Love how long many of you have been at this addiction...
@The Boomstick
Posting just so Oli isn't swamped by those against him. I agree with all that Oli has said (apart from his glory being camouflaged - that's just made up.).
Been silent because people obviously get worked up about it, but your comment is just over the top.
@the Engine
Fixed your post.
Mercxk damn your eyes, F-F-F-Frank Spencer, you got me in the end. I was trying to keep my nose out of it, but you got me: I'm on a day off, and in light of your Jack White quote, chucked on some White Stripes while I slob around at home. Now I've got a nice stereo, and haven't listened to the White Stripes for a while, so your comment that technology gets in the way got me thinking about ipods and how I've never used one and how they actually fuck me off. So, you hate t shirts and people with hair, Oli hates agreeing with anything, and now you've got me too.
I fucking hate ipods. Or more, I enjoy the time and contemplation that being able to walk, or ride somewhere without an external narrative gives me, and I also hate what the mentality that thrive son ipods has done to music. Albums that exist to be listened to from beginning to end seem to be harder to make, and the pool of people who make genuinely creative music that they've sweated for, is getting older, and smaller. It may be that I've just ducked into the 90's music in my collection as a genre, which has had 15 years or so to be distilled down, and the same will happen to the music I buy now, but fuck me it seems to be going the wrong way.
On the upside, Scaler's theme song was something I hadn't listened to for a while.
Post Synopsis:
1. Great Article Frank
2. I'll behave how I like
3. I don't like your kids behaving how they like
4. Camo is just for "our boys"
5. Oli - "no it's not"
6. Frank and Oli disagree about what Oli was trying to say
7. Merckx
8. Minion - The voice of reason (WTF?)
9. Oli's a Dick, Oli Shut the Fuck up.
10. Raleighs
Does that about cover it Ladies and Gents?
I hear there's a race going on in Italy at the moment.
By the way, what happened to updating the VSP standings after each stage? Or does that only happen for LeTour?
@mouse
Oh and one more thing you forgot to add, anyone that lets their kids anywhere near Bretto needs their head read...
@minion
So I've met a couple of the VM in person, and that's fantastic. And, I dare say, made some friends. But there's a bunch of folks I've not met in person, nor may ever. But I have to say this; if I was given a wad of cash that could only be spent on meeting one person from here that you otherwise wouldn't meet, it'd be @minion. Shitty beer in Australia, or New Zealand, or Fiji (where the fuck do you live?), Vegemite, poisonous snakes. It'd be a good time no doubt. Hell, I might just do it anyway.
Now, back out to the garage to sober up.
@Blah
Clarification (Cool Hand Luke) is aimed at The Boomstick.
@scaler911
If meeting Minion is your goal, I suggest you certainly should proceed to your garage. Once there, find some rope and hang yourself. To be safe shut all the doors and turn the car on too.
@mouse
Fuckin A' brother!! Or is it Merckx A'??
+1 from me, not that it counts for much. The discussion derailed on camo shorts/pants, and I think we can all agree that the wearing of in general public is a fashion faux pas in general societal terms. (and this from me having grown up in southern Illinois!)
I agree about our friend minion coming in at the last hours as the mediator...who would have thought? I LOVE that guy!