Riding The High Life

Are you just spinning your wheels on your rollers?

Does riding on your trainer feel tepid?

Do you feel like you're really going nowhere on your stationary bike?

Or are you falling behind on your Peloton?

Lately, I've heard that sales of dressy clothing--suits, dresses and the like--are increasing.  The theory behind that is that people who've been stuck at home are tired of slouching around in sweat clothes and pajamas.  Perhaps there is a corollary in the world of cycling:  People are tired of pedaling in place while looking at screens--in their sweat clothes.

Well, the folks at Hendrick's Gin are looking at you. They've found, in the words of HG national brand ambassador Vance Hendricks, "the bells and whistles you see on your home workout equipment" are "entirely unnecessary."  

Hendrick's, therefore, is introducing something in line with its customers' tastes--or, at least, an image the company is trying to project.  "We at Hendrick's prefer milder forms of exertion," explains Henderson, "coupled with intellectual stimulation, complemented by a delicious cocktail."

To sate the thirsts, if you will, of their cultivated clientele, they created Hendrick's High Wheel.  

If I hadn't seen this photo, I wouldn't have believed the description:  An iron-framed stationary bike, styled after a high-wheeler ("penny farthing") of the 1880s, equipped with a golden fender carved with roses and cucumbers and flanked by golden curlicues, perched atop a patch of artificial grass strewn with rose petals.  

The real and fake vegetation and the bike's decor allude to the gin's rose and cucumber flavor.  So it makes sense that one mounts this contraption on four cucumber-shaped steps. Also logical, given the bike's intended ridership, is that the direct-drive front wheel (like the rear of a modern fixed-gear bike) has no resistance, which allows riders to break "the ever-so-slightest of sweats." (Note to the folks at Hendrick's:  A lady doesn't sweat; she glistens!  That's what I was told when preparing for my debutante ball.) Oh, and the the pedaling output powers a headlight, which will make your rides safe if there's a power outage in the royal suite.

If you simply must have a Hendrick's High Wheel, act now:  Only three will be made and sold.  

If one can afford something, one doesn't have to ask what it costs.  Since I am one of the hoi polloi, I shall do what the intended clientele would consider to be unspeakably gauche:  I will reveal its price.  For $2493.11, you get an HHW complete with a book stand (no screen here!), a horn to alert your butler to bring you canapes and cocktails, and a handlebar-mounted water bottle holder.  Perhaps it's rude of me to ask whether a bottle of Hendrick's is included.

Oh, if you're buying this, you'll want to let your interior designer know that HHW takes up a floor space of 38.5 by 76 inches of floor space.  After all, one shouldn't clutter one's ballroom, should one?

Swerving

I have to admit:  I have never been much of an indoor cyclist.  When I was racing, and when I was working out, I used to have a set of rollers for the winter.  But I've never owned an exercise bike and I've never taken a "spin" class.

"Spin" classes, to me, always seemed to be the bastard children of cycling and gyms.  From what I have seen, those who ride in "spin" classes may be getting great cardio workouts, but never mount bicycles they can ride from one place to another.  They also seem to want a gym that looks more like a cross between a disco and a boutique rather than one like the one in which I used to lift weights. Frankly, that place--located on a Brooklyn corner that hadn't yet gentrified-- was a dungeon, but I didn't mind:  I wasn't there to be seen.  The "spinsters" would not allow themselves to be caught dead in such a place.

The folks who designed Swerve must have understood that when they were designing their new studio.  Co-owner Eric Posner says, in different words, that his new venture is meant for "an individual to come and potentially meet people."  Those who come with other people can "compete together and hang out afterwards."

The funny thing is that although our workouts were solitary, I often found myself "competing together" and hanging out with some of the people who worked out alongside me in what we used to call "the sweatshop".  The difference, I guess, is that most of us didn't go there looking for dates.  (At least, I don't think most did.  I know I didn't.)  And if we had coffee afterward, it was in a real old-school luncheonette (Does anybody use that term anymore) a couple of doors away.

And some of us rode home--sometimes alone, sometimes together.