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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View Comments
@VeloVita
You're right. Cav is wearing a shitty cap in a pure hipster manner. And his socks are too long too. Fast wee bugger though.
@frank
Have you ever listened to The Mars Volta? Seems like they would be in line with what you are describing, besides concept albums (Frances the Mute is fantastic) their "normal" albums are very good, and they definitely evolve in between albums.
Some tasty songs from Frances the Mute:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OnFKTNC77I
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VUBQLnEGHNk&ob=av2n
@minion
WRT your comment about Music: I love listening to music, and I generally (as a rule) listen to the albums from start to finish - even on my ipod/iphone/etc. However, nothing chaps my hide worse than yelling out, "On your left" only to have the moron I'm about to pass (cyclist, runner, or pedestrian) move to the left as I'm about to pass because he had f**king headphones stuck to his moron f**king head.
I used to be a Rule 62 violator, but since I have to wear hearing aides anyway (and a damn warm set of earmuffs to keep from only hearing wind noise), music on the bike is a moot point.
BTW, the earmuffs I wear are a set of 180s with the outer layer removed. Freaking annoying in 90+ degree weather, but nice in anything below 50.
@Oli
Things I didn't know about Rik Van Looy until Merckx: Half Man, Half Bike.
Rik II - the Emperor, because of Rik I - the Boss - Rik Van Steenbergen
The Solo team that Merckx joined when turning professional was led by the Emperor. The Emperor is the only man to win all of the major one-day races (and I'm assuming there were more in that day). The Solo team is credited with inventing the lead-out train.
I blame my crappy American edjumacation.
@Xyverz
Regarding yelling out "On your left" I don't do this as often as I probably should because I feel like an idiot doing it. How does one determine when it is appropriate.
On topic of the article, I haven't ridden since last Friday and didn't shave the guns for a week. Over the weekend I was doing all sorts of stuff with my family, and this week I started a job and I am working from 3:30-midnight. It messed with my schedule and I don't get to bed until like 2, wake up at 10 or 11 and decide there isn't enough time to ride and get other stuff that needs done done. I have cut the grass and done some cleaning up of the yard, but I am just not motivated until after 1 or so. Next week I will be switching to daylight for probably most of the summer (7-3:30) so I should be getting back into the swing of things. Tomorrow I am going to ride as far as I can, I've been prepping the bike all week in hopes that I would motivate myself to ride.
@itburns
Eddy came close to winning all the monuments, I think the only one he is missing is Paris-Tours. And, of course, he came fucking close a number of times. Bad ass blokes back in those days.
@DerHoggz
I usually yell it out if there's not enough room to pass safely or if there's oncoming traffic when I'm on the bike trails. On the road ... generally same thing. The exception to this rule is when I'm riding in a group or paceline. Then I'll always call it out.
@frank
Yeah, I am almost positive that I read that The Prophet "gifted" Paris-Tours to a teammate early in his career as he figured that he could win it at his pleasing in the following years, but he was never able to pull it off. Said he really regretted having gifted it. The teammate (cannot remember his name at the moment, Oli can help out on this one I am sure) also said that Eddy had gifted him the win.
@Buck Rogers
Found this:
"Eddy Merckx never won Paris-Tours; he should have triumphed in 1968 but handed victory to team mate Guido Reybrouck, pulling out of the sprint, to thank him for help earlier in the season."
@itburns
Yes, that sounds familiar. From "Rouluer" or "Cyclesport" or something else?