BSNYC Friday Seventeen Minute Drum Solo!

Believe it or not, being a semi-professional bike blogger isn't as glamorous as you might think.  The truth is that I put my pants on one leg at a time--when I do wear pants, which I usually don't, which is one of the more glamorous aspects of this job.  Otherwise, I have worldly concerns just like the rest of you people.  I have to polish the marble Cipollini statues here at the Wildcat Rock Machine mansion.  I have to skim the surface of the indoor pool for used prophylactics.  I have to launder the togas so tomorrow evening's guests at least have the illusion of cleanliness.

Once in a great while though I do manage to slip away for a short lunchtime ride.  Back when I lived in Brooklyn, that usually meant going to Prospect Park:

I absolutely love Prospect Park.  It has a zoo.  I've seen hawks picking apart dead animals there.  It's a great place to have a wine-soaked white people picnic.

However, riding in it is something else.  Between racing and just plain riding I've probably circled the Prospect Park loop a thousand million hundred times.  About ten years ago I reached the point that I could barely complete a lap without falling asleep, and since then the only way I've been able to get around the damn thing is by slapping myself repeatedly in the face.  To this day, as I fall asleep my legs twitch and spin in exactly the rhythm and cadence it takes to propel a bike around Prospect Park.  This will probably be my death spasm.  And the most interesting aspect of the park from a cycling perspective is this tiny bit of an incline, where people like these shout "Hold your line!" at you for no apparent reason:

(They actually shouted "Hold your line!" at me even though my line was being held securely by me.)

Well, yesterday a window opened for a lunchtime ride, and because I don't live in Brooklyn anymore I didn't go to Prospect Park.  Instead, I went here, which is close to where I live now:

It was a lot more fun than Prospect Park.  The possibility of a lunchtime mountain bicycle cycling ride has been my dream for many years, and it's finally become a reality.  Granted, it was a pretty long lunch, but whatever.  I lubed my chain with tears of joy.  The only problem is that a lifetime spent living and cycling on a giant sandy glacial deposit has made me an utter wussbag when it comes to riding over rocks:

(If it's so easy then you go over it.)

I actually caught myself wishing I had a full suspension bike, and then I blanched at the realization that I have now been transformed into a person who covets both a folding bike and a full suspension bike.  I mean really, there's clearly no hope for me now, I should have just buried myself alive in those woods.  But instead, I fashioned a switch with a sapling branch and whipped myself repeatedly in the thigh until I came to grips with the fact that buying your way out of a fear of riding over rocks is the coward's way out, and that I need to hike up my breeches and work with what I've got.  (Which is a perfectly good bike with a suspension fork and a bad case of sucking at riding bikes.)

I did, however, determine that wider handlebars would be a worthwhile upgrade, since the ones I was using on that bike were narrow vestiges of a time when bikes had 26-inch wheels and I fancied myself fast, and I also really like the wide handlebars on my Engin, which I was not riding at the time because I felt like being able to shift.  So after the ride I went to a bike shop and bought some wider handlebars, and wouldn't you know it, they had folding bikes!  In particular, they had Terns:

(Wine-soaked white person in mid-flight.)

I took one out for a ride and it actually felt pretty darned good, though I'm not sure it folds up small enough for my taste.  Call me paranoid, but you never know when you're going to have to secret a bicycle in your own rectum, and when it comes down to that every fraction of a cubic centimeter counts, believe you me.

And now, I'm pleased to present you with a quiz.  As always, study the item, think, and click on your answer.  If you're right then HOLY FUCKING CRAP!!!, and if you're wrong then you'll see cycling.

Thanks very much for reading, ride safe, and Lob bless.

--Wildcat Rock Machine

1) Why does this Hyundai have only one teal wheel?

--Because it's faster
--Because it's supposed to look like a fixie
--Because David Byrne wanted it that way
--Because someone stole the hub caps

2) The artist who created this claims that the paint actually contains a small amount of Mario Cipollini's semen.


3) A Swedish woman was recently struck by which body part while cycling?

--A male member
--A female breast
--A posterior
--A uvula

4) "GFOAT" stands for:

--Greatest Freds of All Time
--George Found Obvious Advantages from Testosterone
--Good Food On A Table
--Goat Foot On A Testicle

5) Torono Mayors Robs Fords will fight their removal from office:

--"To the death"
--"Tooth and nail"
--"Tongue and scranus"
--"Ham and cheese"

(Spotted by a reader.)

6) With this seat cushion, you can travel through time.


7) What kind of bars are these?

--"Mustache bars"
--"Speed bars"
--"Kra-zee bars"
--"Wide stance bars"

***Special Bonus Travel Video That Doesn't Really Make Me Want To Visit That Place***

Police Academy 4: Citizens on Patrol (Now With More Folding Bikes)

First of all, I want to thank all the people who commented and emailed with their folding bike suggestions yesterday--except for the person who told me to go fuck myself, which frankly seemed unwarranted.  Also, somebody else commented that I have a lot of bikes already, which, like, none of your business.  I also have a lot of wine bottles in my bathtub, but none of those fold either.  So what's your point?  Just because I have so much bottled wine I'm not allowed to buy a wine skin so I can fold it up and hide it in my pants at the movies?

I DON'T have to EXPLAIN myself to YOU.  [Stomps foot on each capitalized word and pouts, then slams door to bedroom and cranks up the Fallout Boy.]

Anyway, clearly I have lots to consider.  For example, some people suggested the Swift Folder:

On the plus side, they seem to be slightly less clownish than other folding bikes.  On the negative side, they don't seem to fold down that small--and I want it to fold down small so I can take it into the bathroom of my yacht with me.  Also, judging from the guy in the photo, it's a total hipster bike.  I mean seriously, what a total hipster.

Then there's the Bike Friday:

On the plus side, you can do folding bike dorklocross like the guy in the video.  On the negative side, you might have nightmares about noted Bike Friday enthusiast Phil Liggett:

Also, at least one commenter pointed out that Bike Fridays are made in the USA.  I know that's supposed to be a good thing, but what do I care?  In fact, I'm rooting for the death of American manufacturing because the sooner this country collapses due to a lack of factory jobs then the sooner some foreign power will come in and take us over, which quite frankly may be our only hope.  That way, at least there's a chance that whoever takes us over will be bike-friendly.  Does China like bikes?

Speaking of China, I think Dahons may be made there, and that's another folding bike purveyor I should consider:

On the plus side, they're pretty reasonably priced.  One the negative side, "Mu P8" sounds like "mupate," which sounds like something you'd do after you micturate.

Then of course there's the Brompton:

(Never let someone who rides a bike like this crash on your floor for just "a night or two at most" unless you want a permanent roommate who doesn't pay rent.)

On the plus side, they're British, and there's no culture in the world that is better at making things that fold up quickly.  Just consider that the British Empire went from this:

Down to this:

In like 20 years, which is the geopolitical equivalent of a bike that folds from this:

To this:

In a single millisecond.

Given this, it's a testament to British refinement and tact that all they did was make the Brompton.

That's not to say I've necessarily decided on the Brompton though, since I'd have to buy a lot more tweed, and honestly I don't think I could handle wearing the underpants.

Anyway, clearly I have a lot to think about, and the process is so daunting that I'm tempted to just say, "Fuck it, I'm buying a Hyundai"--which, it turns out, is just what they're hoping we'll do:
By the way, I'm still loving this Twitter embedding thing.  It's so easy!  See?
That's over three years now, which has to be some kind of record.

So, right, this Hyundai:

This car calls for a joke as stale and dated as the trend on which it is trying to capitalize, and so I'll say that Bianchi called and they want their "colorway" back.  As the Tweeterer rightly points out, Hyundai are clearly at least five years behind the cycling trend curve, which means that we can expect them to launch a car that looks like a cyclocross bike sometime around 2018.  By the way, this is a stupid way to carry a bike:

What's the point of taking up the trunk space and reducing your ability to parallel park while still letting the bike hang out there like a fixed-gear hemorrhoid?  Put on your big boy pants and put the fucking bike on the roof already.  Sure, it burns a little more gas, but if you're afraid to burn some gas then you shouldn't be driving.  Or you could just ride the stupid thing, but I can't really blame somebody for not wanting too.

And here's how Hyundai explained themselves to USA Today (the "fixie" of newspapers):

Hyundai says its idea came from fixed-gear bikes, the "fixies" that have taken over urban corridors around the country. Originally ridden by bike messengers, they went mainstream for riders who wanted ultra low weight. Unlike the bikes, the car has brakes.

"We were inspired by the proverb 'A rolling stone gathers no moss,'" said Chris Chapman, Hyundai's chief designer in the U.S. The concept car "offers the 'no strings attached' freedom of a roll top convertible."

Yes, nothing says "no strings attached freedom" like a lease, an insurance policy, and a dependence on fossil fuels.  And if you want real car/bike "collabo" street cred, you're much better off with a Jetta Trek:

Something tells me the Veloster is going to be even less "classic" than that Jetta in 15 years.

Speaking of cycling subcultures ripe for mainstream appropriation, this weekend Los Angeles will host the Single Speed Cyclocross World Championships, which zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz:

Sorry, I nodded off there for a moment because I'm like so over everything.  This because I was once a delusional bike racer, then I became a jaded irreverent bike racer, and now I'm just a crotchety loner with hairy legs and a general disdain for everything.  At least I can take solace in the fact that while everyone's hopping on and off bikes that don't shift I'll be on the Internet shopping for folding bikes.  So suck on that.

Mabye if you're lucky those Rapha sandbaggers will show up again and leave before the tattoos are handed out:

Lastly, I saw on the Streetsblog how where a lawyer got arrested for knocking down a cyclist:

I wonder if he handed her a bill afterwards.

"Wednesday" spelled backwards is "Yadsendew." Think about it.

Once in awhile, people ask me questions electronically.  This is because I'm so approachable electronically.  Recently, the most common questions have been, in reverse order of frequency:

3) Why do you suck so much at everything you do?

Look, I don't know, I just do.  What do you want from me?

2) How do you tell the weather from inside now that you've moved and no longer have a view of the ursine man who's always smoking on his fire escape?

Easy, I study the hue and volume of the exhaust fumes emanating from the luxury cars as they drop off children at the elite prep school on the corner.  Or, if it's a weekend, I just throw cash out the window to determine how windy it is.

1) Some variation of the following:

(I just figured out you can embed Tweets, coincidentally just after I figured out what "embed" means.)

I've probably said it before because I repeat myself endlessly and I'll say it again because I repeat myself endlessly: don't come visit New York City and waste your time in bike shops.  This is not to say I have anything against hardworking bike shop proprietors.  Quite the contrary--I hope they all make a million billion zillion dollars.  It's just that, as a gigantic bike dork, I know how important it is to take a break once in awhile from being a gigantic bike dork, and visiting one of the greatest cities in the world is a perfect opportunity to do just that.  Seriously, just give it a rest.  Go to a museum.  Go to the theee-ay-ter.  Go eat some of that spicy food that the "ethnics" are so good at making.  Go to a trendy bar and rob some hipsters, who are the only group in New York City more haplessly inept than the tourists.

Nevertheless, I do acknowledge that a great city's "bike culture" is worthy of some degree of exploration.  The problem is that there's only so much you're going to learn by standing around in a bike shop and watching the staff service New York City's disgusting overabundance of filthy rich Freds.  (Or, increasingly, New York City's disgusting overabundance of haplessly inept hipsters.)  Therefore, I think what the city needs is a Museum of Cycling, a place where bike dork tourists can satisfy their curiosity in a single visit.  In fact, I may open just such a place, since thanks to Obama's liberal regime the government is handing out cultural endowments and grants like Mario Cipollini hands out herpes:

(Mario Cipollini giving Danilo Di Luca his trademark "herpes hand-up.")

By the way, speaking of grants, this portrait was commissioned by the US government and paid for with taxpayer funds:

Some might say that $500,000 is a bit much, but I say that America now has its Mona Lisa.

So right, the museum.  Well, once the funding comes through and I get that loft in West Chelsea, I'm first going to buy that Cipo portrait for a million dollars.  Then, I'm going to curate (which doesn't require quotes around it for once) such permanent installations as:

Badass Food Delivery Bikes

It's not a truly badass New York City food delivery bike unless the motocross fender is "slammed" against the saddle rails.

New York City's Greatest Freds of All Time

This exhibit will feature all the accomplished professionals who used New York City's stultifying round-and-round-Central-and-Prospect-Parks racing scene as their springboard to the elite ranks of competitive cycling.  GFOATS include George Hincapie, George Hincapie, and various other dopers you've long since forgotten if you've even heard of them in the first place.

The Hall of Byrne

The consummate New York City cyclist, David Byrne does not own a car, nor does he own a car, and this exhibit will be dedicated to his many contributions to New York City bicycle culture, including an exhaustive retrospective of his whimsical bike racks:

(Lip.  Rack.  Now that's good spondee.)

With a typical u-lock you can just about secure the bike by the front wheel only.  Now that's good design.

Not only that, but Byrne has committed to designing my museum's bike racks, and he promises they'll be his most impractical designs yet.  Here's an early sketch he sent me on a cocktail napkin:

An elegantly minimalist sweeping arch, he calls it the "Steal Me."

Oh, there's also going to be one more permanent exhibit:

The Sleep-Inducing Bicycle Historian Who Constantly Reminds You That There Used To Be Six-Day Races At Madison Square Garden

Did you know there used to be six-day races at Madison Square Park?  Sure you did, people bring it up constantly.  And what does that mean?  Absolutely nothing.  There also used to be a cholera epidemic.  Track racing is not coming back.  Get with it already.

Anyway, obviously there will also be changing exhibitions that are more in tune with the zeitgeist, and the first one will probably be a series of photographic portraiture called "Ass Cracks Across the Williamsburg Bridge."

Moving on, I find myself moving on in life, by which I mean I'm confronting the fact that I'm getting to be an old fuddy-duddy with an uninteresting lifestyle.  This realization creeps up on people in various ways.  Some people never realize it.  Other people realize it when they discover they need a toupé.  (I don't need a toupé, I just stick the hair that collects in the shower drain to my cranium with soap scum.) Still others realize it when they figure out that they need Viagra.  (I don't need Viagra since I don't have genitals.)  As for me, I realized it when I suddenly discovered I badly wanted a folding bike:

I haven't actually gotten a folding bike yet, but I think it's only a matter of time, and that's a scary notion to contemplate.  The thing is, due to geography and new travel requirements I want to be able to get on and off of different trains and stuff yet still have a bike with me, and so all of a sudden I find myself exploring a contraption about which I know little.  So, like any consumer, I find myself studying manufacturer websites:

I guess you could say I'm under "life pressures," assuming you consider shopping for a folding bike a life pressure.  I'm also under economic pressure, in that I live underneath a gigantic mountain of money and huge amounts of cash do weigh a lot.  However, I'm under no environmental pressure whatsoever, since I don't care what my crabon toof pirnt is, nor do I worry about the cost of gas, since even though I OWN A CAR I burn very little gas with it.  Really, I have only two concerns, which are as follows:

1) Which folding bike should I get?


2) Where can I get a bear suit to wear while riding it?

Feel free to offer answers to one, both, or none of these questions in the comments.

Lastly, bike racing person Barry Wicks asked me to mention some sort of cyclocross beer-and-pushup contest in Bend, Oregon:

Frankly, I was enraged and disgusted.  How dare he ask me that?  In fact, I was so mad that I didn't even realize I was posting the flyer, and by the time I figured out what I was doing it was too late.

I told you I suck at everything.

End of an Error: Sweet Impeachment

In the last twenty-four hours I have received numerous emails, Tweets, phone calls, telegrams, ravens, and telepathic messages informing me that charismatic (that's French Canadian for "obese") Toronto mayors Robs Fords have all been de-mayored:

Fords have vowed to fight the defrocking "tooth and nail," which just happens to be the same way they attack and devour a gigantic sandwich:

(Fords used taxpayer funds to employ a hundred-person sandwich-making staff.)

In any case, the Fords first came to my attention when they said some incredibly dumb shit about cyclists, and since then I've taken perverse delight in watching their buffoonish reign of terror.  Therefore, while I am of course pleased on behalf of my overly polite neighbors to the north, I must confess I'll also be kind of sad to see them go:

Image Hosted by

As for what the Fords should do next, I'd suggest that they make a bid for the US presidency.  Sure, technically you're supposed to be born here, but nobody really goes by that, since everybody knows our current president was born in a terrorist training compound in a remote part of Pakistan.  (I saw all about it on the Fox news.)  Also, the United States prides itself on being the land of the free and the home of the obese, and once you hit 300lbs you're automatically granted citizenship.

Speaking of asses who hate cyclists, a reader tells me that a Swedish woman was recently hit by one:

Here's what happened:

"I was cycling down a bicycle path near the street when I saw the car coming toward me," she told the local news website.

At first Nordqvist thought the car would turn to avoid hitting her, but the next thing she knew, the passenger's protruding posterior sent her hurdling to the ground.

Ass-themed alliteration aside, the police are baffled:

"I'm not sure how I should put this since I've never seen anything like it," Joakim Oja of the Skellefteå police told the paper.

But that's only because they live in civilized society, whereas here in Canada's menstrual cup even the "greenest" police officer would immediately recognize this as a typical drive-by mooning gone awry.  Anyway, it's a good thing she was wearing a helment:

(Ass.  Hat.  Now that's good spondee.)

Or at least she was wearing one after the incident.

Of course, in a world where we're all just a single wayward ass away from disaster, it's important that we learn to empower ourselves.  And according to one Kickstarter, there's nothing more empowering than making your own bread--except for making your own bread with stuff you portaged with your custom-fabricated carb-mobile:

Yes, nothing says lovin' like some fresh-baked smugness from the oven:

I am a bread baker with a utopian agenda. To most, the end product of a freshly baked loaf is most tangible and delicious, but more important to me is getting people excited about the act of baking one's own daily bread, and the challenge that presents to the ready made culture that is our "stuffed and starved" American lifestyle. Baking bread is a skill that has been lost in the prepackaged, preserved food environment where we are stuck in the cycle of market-based mass food consumption. Lisaruth's Lovin' from the Oven bread making demos help connect people to a primordial skill that I believe to be the gateway to other means of self-empowerment and the participation in creating one's own reality. One gains ownership over one's food sources, and the possibility for human connection arises. One slows down.

I'm not so sure I'd call buying a pre-baked loaf of bread an act of gross consumerism, though I do have respect for Lisaruth, for I too bake my own bread.  Indeed, when I made my exodus from Brooklyn, the forces of gentrification were bearing down upon us with their Best Made axes, and I did not have time to let my bread rise.  Lo, the result was a brittle and flavorless cracker-like slab I call "matzoh," and if you too would like to partake in it just give generously to my Kickstarter campaign and I'd be happy to teach you how.

Alas, I don't know what I miss more about Brooklyn--the throngs of people clamoring for entry into overpriced dining establishments , or the gigantic curbside containers full of cabbie pee:

Actually, while I'm assuming it's cabbie pee, I guess it could also have been left there by someone who was waiting on one of those 12-hour gas lines right after the hurricane.  Either way, it's only a matter of time before Brooklyn "mixologists" start collecting these things and using them to "curate" exotic cocktails:

("Barkeep!  Make me a Number One!")

One of these $17 drinks contains locally-produced urine that was sustainably harvested by bicycle.  Can you guess which?  (Hint: it smells faintly of asparagus.)

Maybe they can serve Number Ones in the bar at that new Brooklyn velodrome that nobody wants:

“It’s just so self-evident that this is his personal passion,” said Peter Flemming, co-chairman of the Brooklyn Bridge Park Community Council and one of the most outspoken critics of the plan. “The track-cycling community is devout, I’m sure. The snowboard community is devout, too. There’s no sport that doesn’t have its devotees.”

Mr. Flemming added, “He’s paying for his building, and then the city gets stuck with it.”

Fr. Flemming might have added golf to that list of sports, but then he'd have to acknowledge how much public space the city already devotes to people hitting balls with sticks and then walking after them.

Then again, I do acknowledge that there are more valuable gifts than velodromes.  For example, if I had billions of dollars instead of just the hundreds of millions I currently do and wanted to give the city a bike-themed gift then I'd start a bike share system.  Sure, we're supposed to be getting one anyway, but who knows when that will actually happen at this point.  Plus, mine would be a lot better, and instead of unsightly docking stations I'd just have indentured Portland framebuilders in cages who would build each customer a bespoke bicycle out of bamboo.  Then, when you're done you just dump it in the East River--or maybe feed it to the thousands of wild pandas I will unleash upon the city.

Now that's philanthropy.

When You Have Your Own Blog You Can Just Type In Whatever You Want Up Here!

Hi!  How was your Thanksgiving?  Did you eat turkey?  Tofurkey?  Foturkey?  Pho turkey?  A turducken?  A whahorcopiturducken?  (That's a whale stuffed with a horse stuffed with a cow stuffed with a pig stuffed with a turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken.)  A cat?  (Great turkey alternative if you're on a diet.)  Whatever it was, I hope it was totally ahhh-some, and so forth, and may the poor people of the world salivate covetously as the leftovers grow moldy in your refrigerator.


As for me, after my docafish (a dog stuffed with a cat stuffed with a goldfish) I gave thanks for my new abode.  You know, I was apprehensive at first, but I'll be darned if living on the observation deck of the Empire State Building isn't all I hoped it would be and more.  Not only do the extreme wind gusts obviate the need for vacuuming, but tourists are also appreciative of my spirited song and dance numbers and fill my upturned top hat with loose change after nearly every performance.  The point is that I'm flush--so flush I may get myself a new bicycle cycle:

I've been pretty "out of it" so I had no idea Nashbar was selling a 650b mountain bike until I was perusing my off-brand tablet for bargains while using the bathroom this morning.  Yes, 650b is the new 29er which was the old 650b which was the new 26" which was the new 700c and so forth, and you know it's only a matter of weeks before this wheel size shows up in Walmart now that Nashbar's on board:

The new 650b mountain bikes are the next big thing and the Bee's Knees 2x10 650b mountain bike is a perfect example of why. The Bee's Knees has the benefits of a 29er without the draw backs. Its bigger size wheels(about 27.5") means you can roll over stuff that would stop most 26" MTB's, but it is smaller and more nimble than a full-size 29er bike. It's a sweetly spec'd bike at a value you won't find anywhere else.

Presumably this also means that 650b tires, tubes (if you're one of those LOSERS who still uses inner tubes) and forks are all widely available now, which is precisely why I won't be embracing this wheel size.  I prefer the sense of smug self-satisfaction that comes with riding a truly obscure "standard," and so I'm converting my entire stable to 640q.  In case you don't subscribe to the Rivendell Reader, 640q was the standard wheel size for 18th century Austrian hay carts, and it has all the benefits of 29er wheels and 650b wheels with none of the drawbacks.  (This is just another way of saying it's round.)  Sure, I need to hand-stitch my own tires, but it's a small price to pay for something that doesn't overlap with my elf shoes:

I shouldn't have to waste time explaining why the discriminating cyclist rides in elf shoes, though I will point out they have all the benefits of genie shoes with none of the drawbacks:

I mean seriously, who still rides in genie shoes?  Probably rides a 29er with inner tubes too.  Also, as a bike blogger I would be remiss if I didn't include a wheel size-themed poll, so here it is:

Eat that, legitimate cycling press.

Meanwhile, in other product news, did you know that there's finally a home test for dried semen?

(Cyber Monday special!  Buy six dried semen tests and get a free weed test!  Because if you can't keep track of where you ejaculated then you're probably stoned.)

Sorry, wrong blog.  I get confused "curating" so many.  I meant to post that one on I Can't Believe It's Not Semen.  (I'm announcing a book deal for that one imminently.  The packaging is going to be fantastic, right down to all the pages being stuck together.)  Oh, I almost forgot the semen poll:

Is it semen?

Anyway, please allow me to start again.

Meanwhile, in other product news, a reader informs me that if you live in a place with no bicycle infrastructure you can now buy yourself your very own bike lane on eBay:

Here's how it works:

Why just be visible to motorists when you can also confuse the fuck out of them?  The biggest problem I see here is that the areas without bicycle infrastructure tend to be rural--the very same places where people in overalls keep thinking they're seeing alien spaceships.  Therefore, should you attempt to use one of these, the best-case scenario is that it leads to a sudden uptick in reported UFO sightings, and the worst-case scenario is that someone throws you into his pickup truck and you wind up in a "I'm a-gonna probe you before you probe me" situation.  (Yes, I'm an expert on rural American speech patterns, because to me the vast expanse between the coasts is just one gigantic stereotype.)

This is not to say we don't have our own problems here in New York City, and indeed the authorities are looking to question a salmon in connection with the death of a skateboarder:

"The skateboarder was moving along side the truck. A man on a bicycle riding north on University place caused the skateboarder to swerve into the truck with his board and himself going underneath the vehicle. The truck driver was not doing anything wrong and probably could not have seen the Boarder who was moving along the right side of the truck."

And here is video of the salmon, who evidently just rides away from the scene of the deadly collision he may well have caused:

This person could very well be the absolute worst cyclist in all of New York City--but, you know, at least he was wearing his helment.  And if nothing else, it could be time to introduce a "zero tolerance" policy towards bike salmoning--just like Alberto Contador wants to introduce a "zero tolerance" policy towards doping:

"For cycling, it should be zero tolerance, I express myself less certain but it is clear that there is no place for cheaters," the Spaniard explained.

Presumably the zero tolerance policy does not apply if the substances in question are contained in meat, a delicious loophole known as the "steak exemption."

Lastly, speaking of stereotypes (as I was earlier), it's both easy and fulfilling to stereotype Freds, and here's an email I recently received:

dear BSNYC
i thought this might interest you

Indeed it does, though I believe in that part of the world they're called Frédérics.