Fixed gear bikes vs. the 21st century

A recent New York Times article explores the word of "fixies," fixed-gear bicycles. It's an interesting article, if a bit behind the curve (a quick Google search show they were beaten by the Washington Post, Wired, and -- I'm sure -- countless blogs and alt-weeklies around Portland, San Francisco, Seattle, Boston, etc. etc. etc. I have a few friends who tinker with bikes, and I had -- I guess -- assumed that fixed-gear bikes were always a part of the bike subculture.

Anyway (getting back on track), while I've always appreciated the simplicity behind fixies, I've never felt a need to ride or own one. Simply put, I enjoy gears. For a long time, my bike (singular, I don't tinker) was a powder-blue Raleigh Technium road bike that dated back to the late '80s. An aluminum-framed 12 speed, it had a particularly old-school look that gave me street cred. It also had a rigid frame and frame-mounted gear shifts that made it a death trap on wheels on Boston's city streets.

Now I own an Iron Horse mountain bike. Nothing fancy, but it has front shocks, handlebar-mounted gear shift levers, brakes. Standard 21st century stuff. It's a comfortable ride. It's not punk. But I don't mind.

Wraith pinned to the steakhouse

So Of Montreal has redone one of their (his?) songs for Outback steakhouse (read this to catch up). what I find interesting is that -- instead of associating the song/video with steaks or food, I associate the commercial with Of Montreal's whimsical/nihilistic video for the song. Essentially, the "branding" has worked in the opposite direction it was intended.

Both the video and the commercial are linked below. See if you can figure out which is which.

Photo coasters

Because, when you really love someone, you want to set your drink on them.


(Image by Craig Nickels)

**Caveat: Yes, I know you don't have to put photos of loved ones in them. I plan not to. But still...why use that as the example on the box. As further evidence that this was their intended use, I offer up this photo from Crate and Barrel's website:


(Image links to Crate and Barrel's website)

Glasses of scotch placed lovingly on an infant. I rest my case.

I thought it was a passing fancy (or halitosis)

But after God knows how many years, I still enjoy a good Altoid every now and again. Something about the feel of the tin. So classy. So retro. The paper inside. The non-uniform mint shapes that make you think that maybe -- just maybe -- they came from a real confectioner.

Never has tacitly admitting you have bad breath felt so classy.


(Image courtesy of Bilious via Wikipedia)

Necessities for Christmas

I'm not a fan of consumerism. And I'm not a fan of Christmas gifts -- as a general concept. My wife feels the same way, and her way of rectifying this is to ask for necessities for Christmas. Work clothes. New socks. Shoes.

Me? I'd like to feel the same way, but I'm always slightly disappointed by my gifts. No matter how specific I am in my asking, and no matter how well-intentioned the giver is in giving, there's always a slight disconnect between my imagined platonic ideal gift and the actual gift I receive. Maybe it has something to do with going without. It feels like sacrifice. "You mean I wore those faded dress pants to work for 5 damn months for THIS!? I wanted Comfort Fit, these are Individual Fit. I wanted Loose Fit, these are relaxed." Then I feel guilty. Not the same guilt I would have felt -- oh -- actually purchasing the item myself. But guilty. The guilt of inappreciativeness.

Maybe I've only got it half right: I'm not a fan of consumerism, but I love buying things. For myself. And I love the pleasure of finding something that's just right, or exactly what I'm looking for, or unexpectedly perfect. Maybe I'm just fickle. But that feeling is rare.

Sudafed: Hid behind the counter

You know a drug is good when a company is willing to hide it behind the counter rather than halt production. Sudafed, you are now in a category -- a pantheon -- alongside such luminaries as cigarettes, nicotine gum, and truckers' speed*. Congratulations.

* Ephedrine. Or any cheap substitute.

Anti-consumerist or gearhead

After much consternation and consultation, I changed the spark plugs and spark plug wires in my car last night. And after discussing the repairs with a neighbor, asking the advice of the clerk at Advance Auto Parts, and doing as much Web reading on the topic as I reasonably could -- I can't figure out: Am I a thrifty anti-consumerist or a gearhead?

I saved money on the deal. The job cost me a shade over 40 bucks and about 4-5 hours of my time. I'm sure it would have cost me much more than that at a garage. If I would have knit my own clothes, or fixed my own furniture, or painted my walls, I might be considered crafty. Punks knit. Hippies work with wood. Hipsters paint their walls burgundy and beige. Not so for fixing cars.

Oh well, at least wearing Dickies bridges the gap, if only a bit.