OK, I'll admit it: The real reason I've been denigrating all of those "hipster fixies" is that I've wanted one.
Well, now I've made my wish come true:
Happy April 1st!
I must say, I like the ride. But it's a little on the heavy side. So to keep its fine ride qualities, I'm going to do what we used to do back in the day to lighten up:
It just happens that someone gave me a nice old drill with some nice hard bits.
And all of us old-school cyclists know that "an ounce off the wheels is worth two off the frame." So if I like the ride now, imagine if I made the wheels lighter. And the tires...
One of the reasons I haven't ridden with a club in a long time is my aversion to groupthink. As often as not, they're riding the same bikes or the same few bikes, and the componentry and accessories tend to be the same, or similar on each club member's bike. They might even be wearing club jerseys.
No, I have no desire to be a Stepford cyclist.
Seeing everyone riding the same bikes, wheels or other components has no appeal to me. But, to me, it would be downright creepy if everyone rode the same seat. That is definitely not an area in which one should be a slave of fashion:
If the Tour de France riders were to use his seat, they never would have to worry about taking l'arret pipi.
It's really strange. The other day, when I was out riding through some old stomping grounds and along seaside bikeways battered by winter storms, I saw maybe two other cyclists. Granted, the weather was chilly and breezy, but it was still more conducive to cycling than what we had through much of the winter.
Today, if anything, was colder and windier. Yet, during my commutes, I saw even more cyclists than I saw during our "heat wave" (when temperatures climbed over 70F) about a week and a half ago. Some were dressed, as I was, in clothes we'd wear to work; others came wrapped in lycra on their racing bikes. I'm happy to see them all: They're definitely signs of spring, even if the weather isn't.
And the bike rack at my second job was full. It was yet another sign that the bike season is, if not in full swing, at least on its way.
But one thing tells me it's not quite spring yet, whatever the calendar says: the hue of the water. The other day, when I crossed Jamaica Bay and clattered along the Rockaway boardwalk, the water took on an almost metallic, cobalt-like hue:
In some places, along the beaches of the Rockaways, that color was made a bit earthier, as if the dunes were spilling into the tides:
Of course, the water is still much too cold to swim, and will be until some time around Memorial Day. But the tone of the water is enough to tell you that we haven't quite left winter yet.
But sometimes I think that we, as cyclists, have our own clocks, much as other living beings have internal chronometers to tell them when to stay, fly away, change colors or go to sleep. We are all just starting to wake up.
It just happens that someone gave me a nice old drill with some nice hard bits. 
