Kinship

...the Hobo-Flex's long lost sibling, found.

So I was cruising through craigslist this morning (actually it was five in the afternoon, but that consitutes "morning" for me), when I came across an interesting post in the Bikes section.

[I know that it's very BikeSnob of me to do the "hey, look at this interesting thing I found on craigslist," thing, but I couldn't help it on this occasion. You'll soon see why.]

Exercise bike - $15

The text reads:

Selling a Sears exercise bicycle. Call Bob at [Deleted]. Get started on your New Year's resolutions.



This photo came to me as a shock.

Could this be it? Have I finally found the sole remaining hobo-flex?!

For those of you not yet familiar with Hobo-Flex mythology, let me fill you in:


Hobo-Flex Mythology



In the beginning, there was the Hobo-Flex. It created the heavens and the earth, blah blah--I think that's how it goes.

So, now you can see how important this is to me! If I were to acquire this second Hobo-Flex, and bring the two into close proximity--that is, after I've found the amulet of T'lax'n'or and spoken the forbidden verses from the Cyclonomicron--the product of this forbidden union would be an awkward and impractical exercise bike of such power....well, I shouldn't think about that. And of course, my newfound power would be overwhelming, but I would be only a pawn to the Hobo-Flexes' will.

Besides, the amulet of T'lax'n'or is, like, 500 bucks, and I really just don't have the cash for that right now.

A few things

...that don't deserve individual posts.

I made my vegan curry again tonight. The good news: I think I'm very close to getting it to the point of non-nasty (the point at which I'm no longer ashamed to be eating it). I'm not sure what I did differently, maybe adjusted the curry powder to cayenne ratio, more soymilk, and um....oh yeah, duh, the PCP. I laced it with PCP, that's it.

Speaking of things that are nasty, let's talk about old people. The other day, I was cycling back from school, fighting the southern wind (and my new PCP addiction), when I witnessed an older couple, slowly pedaling down the road, on what I assumed to be the bicycle equivalent of a stroll. Let me tell you, it was a-dor-ah-bleh. And, in that fleeting moment, I considered what it meant to age, and wondered whether or not I would find someone with whom I could cruise the blocks (on cruiser bikes, even), until that inevitable day when one of us would die, leaving the other to be concomitantly buried alive in a final gesture of committment.

But, in the next fleeting moment, I was cut off by a sorostitute in a Tahoe (because you can't spell Tahoe without a...), and soon returned to muttering expletives under the breath of the wind.

What a nice day that was.

Curse of the Aztecs

...pure evil. Manifest in a flat tire.

This curse, which stewed maliciously for hundreds of years, began with Abraham Lincoln.

More specifically, it began with today's Thinkin' Lincoln. A simple webcomic? I think not. Rather, I found that it was a harbinger of doom, or more specifically, a harbinger of sharp objects embedded in bike tires.

I got a flat, is what I'm trying to say.

Surely you know what it feels like to get ready for school, eagerly shoving books into your backpack/satchel, whistling a happy tune, eager for the learning which will soon take place, only to find that your only mode of transportation (other than the bus...or my car, I suppose) has been cruelly struck down by a wimpy, flaccid tire.



As you've probably guessed, I found myself in this very situation today. Investigating further, I found that the reason for the air-pressure-deficit was none other than two unnaturally sharp bits of rock.

Coincidence?! I think not!

Sure, the rocks weren't exactly obsidian, and probably not Aztec in origin. Also I wasn't decapitated, as I surely would have been, had the rocks been any more cursed.

So I replaced the tube, but not before making several human sacrifices upon it to the god of bicycles.

Yes, alright, I killed a couple of people, what was I supposed to do? Animal sacrifices are so immoral...

Efficiency

...I haz it.

So I came across an interesting graphic today; and because I love to shove statistics in your eager little faces, I'll share it with you.

Here it is. [Click here for the actual link, with full-sized image.]

Now, what I get out of the graph is this:

The bicycle, basically, is the most efficient form of transportation. EVAR. And though it might not be the fastest, apparently it would only cost me about 16 whoppers to travel 350 miles.

Wait a sec, let's figure this out. These numbers are based on the whopper with cheese, a fat-bomb which will provide you with about 770 calories of energy (and more, if you're into mayo, but you're reading a vegan blog, so I'll assume not). Now, I'm not going to be eating the whopper; if anything, I'll be chowing down on the infamous BK veggie (which I'm pretty sure isn't completely vegan, even sans fromage). But anyway. The Veg only has about 420 Cals, which means that I'm going to have to eat about 29-30 of them on my 350 mile journey.

The question I'm eventually going to ask is, is this worth it?

Given that the BK veggie retails at about $2.99, the total cost of the trip would come to about $87.61, which doesn't sound too bad, but let's compare that with the car.

On your drive, assuming that you don't stop (at a friendly neighborhood Burger King!) to eat, the cost of the trip is going to be about the price of 13 gallons of gas. At an average of $2.00 a gallon, that comes out to be $26....$61 dollars less than riding a bike...

Gasp! What have I done?!

Curses, I meant to rig the math so that it turned out that the bike truly is the best of all possible worlds. But nay, dear reader, it seems that gasoline is once again cheaper than junk food.

I guess the moral of this story would have to be that bikes are still far more practical for short trips. And even though the car is more cost and time efficient over long drives, it's still to be avoided at all costs for those spurious trips about town. Also, for health reasons, you probably shouldn't eat at Burger King, even though they do have a pretty slick website.

EDIT: Wait! Wait! I've done it! Alright, here we go. If you repeat that calculation, but this time using ramen noodle packets (the oriental is the only flavor that's vegan and appealing, btw), it turns out that you'd only have to eat 65 packets at about 12 cents apiece. Bringing you, my hungry hungry cyclist, to a grand total of only $7.78 for the entire 350 miles. Haha! We win again!

EDIT: Apparently my favorite brand of Oriental Ramen Noodles are no longer vegan either...you'll have to find another food to power your vegan-biking adventures.

The AHT show

...or how I singlehandedly revived the art of the drum circle.

We live in exciting times, and myself especially so. These last few weeks have been a constant whirlwind of tremendous and noteworthy events--events which have been so...um...eventful, that, if I were to blog them, your heads would instantly implode under the extreme mass of the awesomeness. Your brains, upon reading of my deeds, would literally collapse into the infamous "Singularity of Overwhelming Excitedness."

Oh well, let's risk it, here's what I've been doing:

• Saved nine kittens from four separate burning buildings.
  
• Disarmed a nuclear warhead using only a teabag and some wax-paper.
• Formulated the grand unified theory, in my head.
• Misplaced my pen, subsequently forgetting the aforementioned theory.
• Attempted the Ramen Challenge, only to fail miserably.
• Went to a local AHT show, put on by the local AHTist coalition.

It's the last of these items I wish to discuss with you today. If only because it happens to be the most recent in my memory. The rest, I'm afraid, are smothered in too much of an adrenaline-induced haze to be recollected clearly.

Anyway, AHT show.

It's theme was that of Tainted Love (not necessarily the song, although it would make good mood music for this post), and featured angst-riddled tributes to lost love in the form of poetry, paintings, and poi. Oh, and formal cat portraits.


I wish I had more to show, but yet again my camera failed me by dying at the least opportune moment. Of all of the fabulous examples of artistic creation there that night, the only photo--THE ONLY PHOTO--was the blurry example featured above. But I guess that, in a way, it shows the transient nature of the art scene.

It will all be forgotten tomorrow.

Or not, some of it was pretty good. We'll see.

Oh, and they had free wine (classy), though it was from a jug and served in plastic cups (not so much).

Vegan Recipe of the Day: A hastily thrown together curry recipe!

...because the roads are icy and I've been riding the bus!

Yeah, I know, I've let you all down. I'm not the ultra badass biker I make myself out to be. The thing is, though, that I don't want to die--which would surely happen if Lucy and I ventured out onto ice-slick streets.

So I've decided to do some cooking! And to present to you, my first, fully original, vegan recipe of the day! Mind you, if you're considering making this for yourself, that I had no idea what I was doing when I conceived of this dish. In other words, don't blame me when it (inevitably) turns out nasty.

Hastily Thrown Together Curry

A lovely, poorly-focused image of the carnage which is to ensue

Serves: two (or one, if you eat like I do)

As you probably remember, I alluded to this day in my last recipe, in which I stated that I was determined to do something with my mistakenly purchased curry powder. This, my friends, is the fruition of that dream: a slightly spicy curry which is probably nowhere near the real thing.

Here we go.

Ingredients:

• (1/2) yellow onion
• 2 cloves garlic
• (1/2) bag stirfry mix (it's what I had, okay? back off. Also, feel free to substitute real vegetables for this one)
• 1 tspn yellow curry powder
• 1 tspn powdered cayenne pepper
• (1/4) cup water
• (1/4) cup soy or coconut milk
• 1 tspn vegetable oil

First off, throw your roughly chopped onion, finely minced garlic, water, and oil into a pan to saute. (the oil is especially important, since the oily components of the garlic, supposedly very good for you, will not dissolve properly into water) When the house is filled with that distinctive vampire-killing aroma, you're going to add in the spices and the rest of the veg. Feel free to adjust the amount of cayenne to your liking, but for now, make it a bit spicier that you'd normally take it, since the soy/coconut milk we're adding in later will dilute a bit of that. Once the veg mixture is happy, mix in the soy milk, reduce heat, and let it simmer for about 10 minutes on low heat. When this step is done, bring it back up to the piping-hot serving temperature (by now your kitchen may be smelling like an indian brothel, this is a good sign) and serve the mixture over steamed rice (I added salt/pepper/paprika to my rice for a bit more flavor/color).

Now, before you taste it once, gag, and throw it out, remember that we made this adventure together, and it's probably your fault if it's nasty.

Thanks, and bon appetit.

Bike-on-bike action!

...and by "action," I don't mean bike-pr0n (yeah, I know what you sick people come here for)

I meant, dear readers, that my bike, Lucy, and I were involved in a collision today. And yes, don't worry. Be assured that both bikes were unscathed (or at the very least, very lightly scathed). And so, the tale begins...

It was early morning, with the chill of the dawn laying heavily upon the air...when suddenly, disaster struck. (dum dum dummmm <--dramatic minor or augmented chord)

Nope, hold on. I don't think I'm properly conveying the intended tone of this post. If you need some mood music, open this in a tab whilst reading. (Or if you're feeling like something a bit more whimsical, try this)

Have you gotten it going? Good, let's continue.

So, I hit a dude with my bike.

As usual, I was barreling through campus with little to no regard for the safety of pedestrians, when ahead, streaking across the clearly-marked-"no bike"-crosswalk, another safety disregarding, barreling cyclist crossed my path. Now, I say "crossed my path," in the sense that, Lucy's front tire jammed into [as of yet unnamed bike's] front wheel, at which point both riders and their concomitant bicycles fell to the ground.

Before I continue, I'd like to take this moment to note that I did have time to react. My cat-like reflexes kicked in just in time, allowing me the wherewithal to shout, "whoa, whoa, WHOA!" before impact. However, my apparently sloth-like motor skills did not kick in, since I was spending that precious second between the realization and impact shouting in terror, i.e. NOT BRAKING.

Anyway, we're on the ground...but I spring up quickly, preparing (bravely) for the imminent pummeling, and turn to face my rival. "What? :o" I think, inserting an incredulous emoticon at the end of my thought-sentence, "an old dude? Oh great, it's not going to look good, at all, when he pummels me." Actually, let me rephrase. I shouldn't say "old," he was pretty spry for a guy looking fifty, especially when he jumped up and started to chuckle (at our situation, not in a maniacal way). When I soon realized that the pummeling situation was (hopefully) diffused, we exchanged the usual, "Are you all right? / Naw, it was totally my fault / I was just headed to class / How's the bike?" convo. Turns out everything was okay.

Then came the fifty-year-old guy, swooping in with a bro-hug.

And there I stood, amidst the crowds of students rushing to class, in the street, being embraced by a man I had met seconds before. It was a bit weird, but certainly better than the no-holds-barred, you-bent-my-bianchi, hipster beatdown I was expecting.

And, I guess that's about it. I straightened my front wheel and biked the rest of the way to class. Though I will say, for my first major accident involving a second party, it wasn't really that bad. Sure there was a bit of awkwardness involved, and I could have broken a guy's hip today, but I think that it's more important that we pay attention to the moral of the story:

Don't hit people with your bicycle, it leads to awkward moments.