Blog Salad

Way back when my wife and I were just starting out together, living in a little dump of an apartment on Wilson near Labatt Park, we spent a lot of our evenings at a nearby downtown dive called the Brunswick Hotel.

We have all kinds of fond memories of that place and the people who worked there. The 'Wick was demolished late in 2008, after much protest from the people who misspent (or were actively misspending) their youth there, debate about heritage status for the building and a suspicious fire.

Being older and wiser and more cynical, we didn't join the protest, but it was sad to see the Brunswick go. Anyway, on one of those nights years ago at the 'Wick we were joined by a man who spoke, but made no sense. He didn't appear to be drunk. He was just stringing words together, often seeming to be saying something cohesive, but never quite getting there. When he left us my wife said, "Wow, now that was textbook Word Salad". I had never heard the term before, but it is a popular term for schizophasia and something my wife had learned about in Psychology. I have enjoyed using the expression ever since.

I've been jotting down ideas for blog posts lately, but when I look a them, none is quite interesting enough to base a whole post on. So, similar to installments of "the lost pictures", I'm going to write about these unconnected things here in one post, creating a "blog salad"!

Ingredient #1: Telephone Number Fast-Talkers.

If you work in an office of some kind (and even if you don't), you probably use voicemail quite a bit. I know I do, and I've got a pet peeve about people leaving their phone numbers by speaking really fast, kind of like the Big Fat Cheater I use in my cadence computations. These people typically leave a long message spoken at a reasonable pace, and finish by rattling off their phone number so fast that you couldn't possibly write it down. Depending on your voicemail system, you may have listen to the whole message over again to get the number. Wah, wah, wah, I know. When leaving messages, please either start and finish with your phone number or say it slowly enough to be written down.

Ingredient #2: A Second Long Ride.

As long as I continue to suck at following directions, my fitness level should increase. I hit the highway again last Saturday, armed with a map and directions for a 65km ride. Thanks to not starting where I was supposed to and then missing an important turn, it became an 88km (54.7 mile) ride. This ride was much prettier than the first, and I stopped for breakfast mid way through. It was great. For detail freaks, you can see my mapped route by clicking here. I'll try to get my act together and take video or pics next time.

Ingredient #3: What Kind of Freak Am I?

What kind of person is content to have pictures of their butt posted online, yet is not interested in showing their face or revealing their name? I don't know the answer to that one. If I did, I suppose I would have met the spiritual and philosophical challenges experienced by all people head on, and in coming to "know thyself" gained deep insight into the rest of humanity. As it stands, however, I am completely puzzled by many of the people around me, including myself. Ah well, if I can't be a self-realized philosophical giant at least I can post nonsense on the Internet using a funny little squinty-eyed guy as my face.

Ingredient #4: Cars are Amazing.

Both times that I have taken a long bike ride over the past two Saturdays, I have had reason to drive our car later on in the day. In each case I was immediately struck by the power and ease of travel that cars represent. It felt very much like the first time I drove, and the machine seemed so unbelievably strong, almost magical, as a simple small motion of my foot made it leap forward with no real effort on my part. It is no wonder that this incredible invention has consumed our society... putting power like that in the hands of individuals could have no other effect. My questions for other cyclists: 1) Have you experienced the same feeling? 2) If so, does it go away with more frequent or regular long distance cycling?

Lastly, A Solitary Visual Crouton: Morphos Shifters Dressed As Rock-Em Sock-Em Robots.

Please treat the above post as you would a real salad. Try to ignore the wilted bits and those ingredients you don't really like, or pick them out. With luck I'll be back with a thick cut of nicely seasoned, single-topic nonsense next time.

Yer Pal,

R A N T W I C K

She Wears Pink, And She's Dirty

First of all, get your mind out of the gutter. I'm talking about my winter bike, affectionately named "Winter". Normally I wouldn't be the type to assign a gender to my bike. Bikes, after all, are bikes. When I was building this bike, however, I was anxious to get it finished because it was starting to snow now and then. I used some good but very pink brake cable I had lying around...

The PINK

Now, the Dirty

I'm a little ashamed to show this bike in such dirty and rusty condition; I just dumped her for my new fixed commuter build when spring came. I will get her all cleaned up and remove all the rust I can before winter comes and I wreck it all over again. While we're on the topic, why would fenders come with anything other than stainless hardware? I can understand other bicycle bits, but fenders? Water and rain are what they are for. I know, of course, that it keeps costs for the manufacturer down, and these didn't cost an arm and a leg, but once again: they are fenders, for Pete's sake! Thanks for letting me get that out.

This monstrosity was made from a partially destroyed Gary Fisher Bitter that I found in local classifieds.

I feel a little bit bad for doing this to what used to be a pretty respectable dirt jumper. I added the rigid fork, wheels, fenders, a big old plastic tub and studded tires among other things. The odd fender placement and other strange things about this bike are mostly by design, and specifically aimed at winter riding in heavy snow and slush. Even that high-riding ugly plastic tub; panniers would just become heavily crusted with icy buildup, and my storage needs to be utterly waterproof. London Ontario's winter is quite mild in comparison to other Canadian cities, and very similar to most northern US cities. It is often as wet as it is cold. We do get a lot of snow, which is most often heavy and wet too.

Without fail, the thing people remark upon first when they see this bike are the pink brake cables, instead of the fact that it is a complete and utter mutant. That is not why I started to see this bike as a she, though.

This is:

This child is Winter's human doppelganger. When I saw this picture, I laughed a bit, and then an image of Winter immediately sprang to mind. Dirty, with pink accessories. This kid also has a look in her eye that corresponds perfectly with how I feel sometimes while riding in the snow, and how Winter would feel if she weren't just an abused and ill-fated machine, destined to forever live a life of cold and slush, ice and salt. I don't know who this kid is, but I'll bet she's having a great summer. Maybe I should take Winter for a summer trail ride, just to keep her happy too...

If you are all set to leave a comment about my mental state, please don't bother. Believe me, I already know.

R A N T W I C K

Got Crack? Fanny Pack!

I've written in the past that I couldn't care less what people wear when they ride, so long as it is safe. That certainly remains true, so I would ask that others don't judge me for what I choose. One item that I use is currently viewed with disdain by many. It is a fanny pack. If you are thinking "huh? I thought fanny packs were alright", you are out of the loop, my friend, and I have the cultural evidence to prove it.

For starters, when self-styled youtube rap stars begin to mock something, you know it's all over:

Now, one might argue that the young and freaky surfing the gnarly waves of youtube culture are not necessarily representative of the greater society, and that might be correct if this evidence of fanny pack dislike was standing alone. However, there is more evidence to consider in this case.

From Gotta Ditch the Fanny Pack, Dude , a 2006 article on wired.com, discussing ways to carry your stuff:



Fanny pack

This is great if you're trying to create a singularity of pure geekness that will open up a portal to an alternate universe where they're still making episodes of Reboot. But if there are even two working neurons in the style portion of your brain, the same neurons that explained that Mr. T's haircut won't look as good on you, then you're going to want to pass on this one. On the other hand, if you've burned those neurons out through years of cosplay, more power to you. Just don't stand near me.

Worst part: Do you really want to appear to have two rear ends?



When you find a self-professed gadget freak bashing fanny packs as being geeky while using some sort of sci-fi trek-speak in order to refer to some nerd show (which rocks, by the way; Can-Con forever, baby!) on the oh-so-hip site wired.com three years ago, you just know something terrible has happened to the fanny pack industry by now.


When something becomes not only unfashionable but also the trademark of a loser, the thing's name itself begins to carry some stigma. When that same thing remains pretty useful to some people (like me) who will continue to buy some of these stigmatized things, merchandisers find it necessary to change the thing's name! Voila! Problem solved! The evidence:

MEC - A Canadian REI-type online store - Waist packs only. Not a fanny in sight (sigh).

MSN Shopping - Despite the browser page title, there's only one "Fanny pack" in the first thirty items. Now, some of those bags are special purpose ones that are not of the classic fanny pack variety, but many of them are fanny packs of the most ordinary kind. Lumbar packs? Waist Bags? C'mon! Are you kidding me?



While I have never claimed or cared to be particularly fashionable, why would I sport an old-fashioned variety of such a reviled item? Because in my case it serves a secret, second purpose. You know there's probably only a few things less fashionable than a fanny pack, and one of them is bicycling butt crack:

Author's note: if you are into making yourself gag, want to have some nightmares later and/or shudder intermittently for several hours, just do a google image search for butt cracks. The pictures above are a walk in the park in comparison.

I live in mortal fear of showing even a hint of butt crack while I'm riding. As a result I have spent much energy pulling the back of my shorts up and the tail of my shirt down over the last several years. The degree to which I have had to do this depends largely on the age of my shorts and the length of my shirt.

I typically wear cycling shorts (yes, the spandex with chamois deal) and some sort of cheap polyester/wicking material sport shirt when I ride. Even though I'm usually not going too far, I prefer to sweat in clothes that I won't be wearing all day at work.

I haven't ever purchased a true cycling jersey, since I figure that their main feature, the wicking away of moisture, can be accomplished well enough by the aforementioned cheap stuff. One thing that most jerseys have that cheap shirts lack is a pocket (or pockets) in the back to carry a few things in. If you are a jersey wearer, please let me know if I'm missing something important or extra good about them.

W A R N I N G

The following content contains images of Rantwick's fat ass. You have hereby been notified of the impending danger, and by scrolling downward or proceeding to read this material you are waiving any right to pursue damages against Rantwick for psychological, retinal, gastrointestinal or any other injury or trauma.

I found an old fanny pack around the house and started using it a couple of weeks ago. Beyond being a handy place for wallet, phone, etc., it holds the back of my shirt down perfectly, so it never creeps up while I ride, and no one, including me, has any worries about any posterior peek-a-boo action. The proof:

All hail the Anti-crack Fanny Pack! Now that has a ring to it, unlike "Anti-crack waist bag"... that just sounds like some sort of messed up social worker. I should go into marketing.

If you haven't been too traumatized, come visit me again some time.

R A N T W I C K

PS - I would certainly be remiss if I didn't thank my wife for helping me with this post. I got home first. Having just picked up the kids and while getting out of the car, the first thing she heard from me was "I need you to take pictures of my ass, on my bike, from behind, before I get changed". Without batting an eyelid, she took the camera from me and said "OK, what do you need?" I told her what to shoot and why we were doing it, and she did it without any fuss at all. Now that's love, friend of mine, uh huh.