Pedal Strike

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July 21st, 2009

kinky or kissena

Call me a creature of habit [or just lazy], but I tend to get stuck in the same mundane routine. Getting up at the same time every morning, going through the same motions at work, doing the same rides. Ironically I sort of like it when someone will pull me out of my rut, give me something to do, and unleash me on something new. Even if it totally messes up that same comfortable daily song and dance.

Especially when it comes in the form of a declaratory statement accompanied with crossed arms, from the mouth of a person who can actually be a little scary if you piss him off enough. So when the words Kissena, track, and Dolan were uttered in the same sentence…I may have uttered my habitual “yeah, but…” but I knew M1 had a point.

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Because quite honestly, riding track bikes on the street is sort of like, well, anal sex. It looks hot and kinky, and the concept behind it is forbiddingly tempting: the skill involved in being able to ride a rigid, aggressively stiff bike that was made to only go fast and turn left on city streets is really fucking pimp. Too bad in actuality, it’s actually pretty uncomfortable and slightly painful.

But you try it because of all the hype. And then you try it again after you sort of pop your cherry, hoping it’s going to be somewhat enjoyable. But then you end up running into the safe harbor that is straight up Vanilla sex. Or just your beater/commuter/road bike/hybrid/whatever. You know, something that was actually made for the road.

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That’s not to say that people who can ride track bikes on the street aren’t hot shit. Just that I’m not that kinky. Kind of like how I’m fully comfortable with only hooking up on floors and beds, as opposed to public beaches and cathedrals. So heeding M1’s advice, I’m going to put that Dolan where it belongs, and not sweat the boring factor that might come from only riding it on a track.

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Judge at will. But I have enough sweat pouring out of my pores these past few days, sprinting in intervals on rollers as I blast pop or country or whatever so-bad-it’s-good playlist I have going on, to really worry about what scensters might be thinking. Besides, I’m getting faster, pedaling in more efficient circles and at least whipping a few things with gears up the hills.

It might be sticky-sweaty-hot outside, and thus perfect weather for rides to Concord, Dover, or just a park for a picnic. But I’m sort of dreaming of late fall, when I’ll have the window wide open, a kitchen timer [hopefully] set for an hour, gritting my teeth in agony, churning pink cranks as fast as my short legs possibly can.

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  • 1 Ben Aug 2, 2009 at 11:39 pm

    “Because quite honestly, riding track bikes on the street is sort of like, well, anal sex. It looks hot and kinky, and the concept behind it is forbiddingly tempting: the skill involved in being able to ride a rigid, aggressively stiff bike that was made to only go fast and turn left on city streets is really fucking pimp. Too bad in actuality, it’s actually pretty uncomfortable and slightly painful.

    But you try it because of all the hype. And then you try it again after you sort of pop your cherry, hoping it’s going to be somewhat enjoyable. But then you end up running into the safe harbor that is straight up Vanilla sex. Or just your beater/commuter/road bike/hybrid/whatever. You know, something that was actually made for the road.”

    Genius. Absolute genius.