Bike Snob - Anonymous [24]
However, Contraption Captains mean no harm, and they’re simply operating machines they feel are superior to regular bicycles because they’re potentially faster and they don’t require the rider to sit on a narrow saddle. Of course, they also can’t negotiate tight corners, they’re heavy, they’re difficult or impossible to lock to poles or bike racks, they’re unwieldy and can’t easily be stored in small apartments or offices, they don’t climb hills well, and they require big tall flags since they’re below automobile hood level. Yet none of these things keep the Contraption Captains from polishing their helmet mirrors, combing their beards, packing a day’s worth of supplies in their fanny packs, and taking to the roads.
In a certain sense, the Contraption Captain is similar to the Lone Wolf, in that they are unconcerned with aesthetics. Yet unlike Lone Wolves, Contraption Captains do form clubs—though you can be both a Lone Wolf and a Contraption Captain.
Why other cyclists don’t like them:
Their vehicles are confusing and frightening.
Compatibility with other cyclists:
Themselves. Will also join charity rides and deign to ride among “uprights,” similar to their cousin the Lone Wolf.
GETTING THERE BY BIKE
How Cycling Changed My Life
Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime. Teach a man to cycle and he will realize fishing is stupid and boring.
—Desmond Tutu
There’s a treacly parable about faith and God called “Footprints in the Sand,” which you’ll often see in poetry form printed on various religious knickknacks and bits of inspirational paraphernalia, and which I will paraphrase for you herewith. (If you insist on reading the original, Google it.)
Basically some guy is dreaming that he’s walking on the beach with the Lord. As they walk, scenes from this guy’s life are flashing across the sky, like he’s on mescaline or at some kind of drive-in movie theater. During the good parts of his life, the guy notices, there are two pairs of footprints in the sand, the Lord’s and his own. But during the bad parts (the poem doesn’t specify what kind of bad stuff this guy has gone through, but I’m guessing it’s probably stuff like addiction, sickness, and sunburn) there is only one set of prints. The guy figures this means the Lord ditched him. So he has the audacity to ask the Lord, “Hey, where were you when all that crap was going on?”
“That’s when I was carrying your ass,” the Lord replies, which naturally shuts the guy up and drives home the point of the poem, which is that God is awesome and works in mysterious ways, like a pair of SRAM Red shifters.
Whatever. I know I’m supposed to be inspired and moved by the fact that the Lord apparently gives people piggyback rides on the beach. However, for me this parable raises more questions than it answers, such as: (1) who is this man? (2) what kind of shoes does the Lord wear? (If I had to guess I’d say New Balance or Saucony. Maybe Rockport); and (3) do the Lord’s footprints stay with the man’s footprints even when he goes to the bathroom? I really can’t give myself over to this parable until these questions are answered and I can be sure that, if I do choose to follow the Lord, I’ll still get to relieve myself in private.
Still, parables are the pop music of spiritual philosophy, and even when you don’t like them they can get stuck in your head. I get Billy Joel songs stuck in my head all the time for no reason and I can’t stand him. So even though