Saturday, 15 December 2018

HOW TO SPOT, THEN AVOID A BIKE COURIER

Hooley Dooley.
Bicycle Couriers are a total breed unto themselves aren't they?

The hard core, rustic, rusted, born cyclists that clearly know how they look and feel how they're seen.

If you've ever been in the CBD and your vision is momentarily blurred by a mess of backpack + tattoo ink + bushy beard in the wind, chances are you've just been in the presence of a BC.
Fast. Stealthy. Devils.
I'm convinced Speed 3 the movie will be based on Bike Couriers because these guys n.e.v.e.r s.t.o.p p.e.d.a.l.i.n.g
It's like an oath they take from the moment they saddle up.

So it's generally a situation of get out of the way, or get pancaked.
Don't believe that can happen?
You should.
Because it can...happen.

People need to know how to stroll the CBD whilst avoiding these creatures that swoop harder than a magpie.

Here's your go-to safety guide of how to Spot, then Avoid a Bike Courier.

1. LISTEN FOR THE JINGLE JANGLE

Rock-climbers probably think they're pretty cool with their purple carabiners hanging loose.
Bike Couriers think they're cooler.
It's like a game of 'How many keys can a carabiner hold before it explodes?'
As a game, it's no scrabble, put it that way, but let them have their fun.
Add on a chain lock dumped across the shoulders and these guys are starting to rattle like the tin can of a charity worker.
It's this very noise that our aural senses need to pick up early to have the best chance of avoiding that fatal collision.

2. SEE STICKER - STEP BACK

Remember when you were a kid and sticker books were the bee's pajamas? Those days never ended for Bike Couriers, the only difference is, instead of a book, the now have a bike. And instead of stickers of cartoon cats and cars, they've got stickers of brands that may as well have never existed, and others with four letters and ill-intentions.
But generally these stickers and drowning with Pantone Colours, so when you see that rainbow, step back and count to five. By that time the danger should have passed and you can cross the road with calm resolve.

3. A GREAT BIG BUSHY BEARD

Look at a majority of cyclists and you'll be able to see their chins. If you look at a cyclist and you don't see a chin, be warned.
Of course this isn't the case 100% of the time, so how do you make that final distinction between a safe bet, and a pancaking? Simple. Beard oil.
Is that face bush deliciously groomed?
Does it look like someone's stuck a cosy cushion onto the bottom of their head?
Bingo, it's a bloody Bike Courier.

4. CALVES THAT COULD KILL

This doesn't meant they're massive hulking calves that could flatten a rat. No, quite the contrary, they can be of a normal or even delicate size.
But they'll always be sharp enough to cut through glass.
They're almost like a cut diamond in their perfection. Reflecting, refracting and dispersing the light.
Hypnotic.

Image source [click here]

5. DENIM/CARGO + RIPS

Doesn't matter if it's shorts or jeans, just look for denim or cargo.
If there's at least 36% skin showing through (deliberate) wear and tear holes, you're onto a courier.
The silver bullet is if there's a tattoo of a sparrow, or a ship in high seas framed neatly in the hole. That's when you know you're onto the queen bee. If this courier dies, all others die too. It's a jungle out there.

So that's that.
Generally we can apply animal instinct to these increasingly apparent reptiles. Like a snake, if you stay outta their territory they won't bite. The problem is when they come into your territory, at which point, call a professional to come with a long stick and a hessian bag.

In the meantime, happy walking.

Monday, 4 August 2014

Mr Newdick for something new.

Just a side note to start, the average speeds clocked in the screenshot on the right go some way to proving there may be a drug or two left in cycling.
But moving on at 137.6 km/h.

Melbourne registered it's coldest morning in 16 years the other day. Colder than a snowman's nose.
Wait...not his nose cause that's a -
I mean his arms. Colder than his....no wait - hat, colder than his...forget it.

Stupidly, my brother and I had organised the night previous to get out for a ride.
When we left it was 1.5 degrees celsius or 34.7 farenheit for those of you lost in an Imperial world.

Now I know a thing or two about heat, and particularly heat in vests.
Yes, that's me dashingly modelling the Heller Heated Vest Size Small in the image below.
You can tell my Model Game is on point by the hooked thumb in my back pocket. Nice. That cheeky little maneuver opens up the chest. Can't you tell?

(NB: The picture below was taken by a family member who found it in a bargain bin at their local bargain shop. I strongly insisted that there must have been a mistake with both shipping and handling for it to end up there. These puppies are in high demand I'll tell you.)

So no, not that heated vest, but a lovely new Endura Windchill II Gilet. That, paired with a long sleeve over the top was enough to keep the core warm. It didn't however, prevent a localised spat between heart and fingers.

I get the feeling my heart has something against my fingers. As if they're the 10 'mistakes' or unwanted children that should never have been had. It's the first place the blood stops pumping when the mercury bottoms out. My heart tends to cut them off faster that a drinker in rehab. As a result, they go numb, and then hurt - so bad. Maybe the only way out of this is to Bear Grills it, gut a few cute and fluffy animals I find in the wild and wear them instead. I mean, I've seen the show but never really considered it as a viable option until now.

Changing topics but sticking with the hand theme, on this ride I frequented the little boys room and AGAIN, saw a man not wash his hands before he left. Granted he hadn't sat down to do the hefty stuff and was in and out in a jiffy (in a number of ways you might say), but surely you've still gotta wash the digets on exit? I see this a lot with men. Considering the most commonly used form of introduction around here is with a handshake, it makes me wary of any man I greet. It's hardly appropriate just before shaking to ask:

"Hi there mate, quick double-barrell to start. Have you (a) used the loo recently and, if so (b) given the old 5 headed hydras a wash following said use?"

I may be coming across as a bit of a germaphobe here and forgetting the days when mud was a staple on my lunchtime menu, but the germs in mud are from the crotch of the earth, not the crotch of another man. I rest my case. https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHeGvpivxAz0FruDjIaKEYfdxGg7ZUmv37TBcGSSZKBjqO1-pWH1SkjuE-uyoPer7SqhWmFFq-6iRUCFtqqCid8VAsHkWVf94KW_bBViy1qcqxVtm36CHJgpPEIlTK8me7AKpsL6-taDE/s1600/Brent+Newdick.jpg

In other news, away from cycling, we recently had the Commonwealth Games, a mini-olympics for all the nations in the world that - way back when - Britain said "Yep, we'll have you." Watching the athletics one night, my friends noticed this particular New Zealand gentleman.


Now I don't understand people like the English woman who renamed herself Pink Sparkly and All Things Nice. But if Brent wants to go ahead and backtrack on what mum and dad thought'd be great at the time, then he's got my support.

"Hi, I'm here for my appointment."
"Name?"
"Brent."
"Ah yes, Newdick was it?"
"No, no, just a checkup."

And in that instant everyone in the waiting room thinks, "Poor bastard, this world wasn't made for men packing a small punch."

The other thing about Brent's name that fascinates me is the fact that they're from New Zealand. As far as I can tell, the Kiwi accent would go some way towards masking the R. That can't be a good thing when using the full name. 
No wonder he's a sprinter, he probably got all his training running away from bashings every lunchtime. 

Good one Mr and Mrs Newdick.





Monday, 28 July 2014

The What I've Got Review: FYXO water bottle

Branching off from the success of the first What I've Got Review it's time to delve once more into the critical world of Cycling paraphernalia.
Welcome back to….

The What I've Got Review

For those oblivious to what this is, it's basically me reviewing 'what I've got', cause no one else is particularly desperate for me to have a look at what they've got.

Today, it's my FYXO water bottle.
Should be pretty simple. Considering it's a water bottle. Just a good ol' water bottle for holding water.

SIGNIFICANT FEATURES:

Well um...it's got a -…um…I mean, it's a water bottle. So that's pretty significant. Fits well in the bottle cage on my bike, which is good.



If I can cycle is now on Facebook, check it out!

AESTHETICS:

The silky contours that round off beautifully from top to bottom provide a unique bottle of exquisite quality. A gently ribbed band just below the tender neckline offers excellent grip for the user and gently massages fingertips during use depending on your glove of choice. A warm and stylishly designed logo wraps around the body of the bottle protecting, and proudly displaying, a fixation with the FYXO brand. Doubling the impact of bold branding is the translucent plastic design, which also offers a practical use to the cyclist in monitoring their levels of refreshing, hydrating h2o. I can personally vouch for the bottle's ability to take direction in a photo shoot and engage seamlessly with a range of different effects, flaunting a prowess that would befit Cycling's Next Top Model were such a competition to exist.



Read my previous post: The light at the end.

QUALITY:

Good. Yeah, works well. Cap opens comfortably in your teeth when on a ride. Squirts water out with an even pressure but not over the top. Easy to unscrew when you wanna fill it back up, even for real cyclists who have no upper body muscle. Alternatively, if you are having trouble getting it open you could probably just clamp it between your trunks and do it that way, might leave a bit of a taste though, which can't be good…or just maybe it can…?

SUMMARY:

In summary I'm gonna go ahead and say that it probably wasn't the best choice. For the review I mean. There's only so much you can say about a water bottle and while I tried to jazz it up verbally in the middle there I got left stretching unsuccessfully for the excitement. Kinda like a group of friends turning to strip poker when the party's dying. That's not to suggest I've played strip poker with my water bottle by the way, it refused to deal the cards arguing a lack of opposable thumbs made it difficult, so I gave up.

Thanks for reading!









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