February 2nd, 2011

Peril Canceling Headphones, to silence cars and debates.

I have two theories as to why cyclists bicker. 1. Like all persecuted minorities, we direct our frustration with nebulous forces working against us, upon one another instead. 2. Cycling is a religion, and we're like Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland. 

So how to react? Well, one could always sit back and enjoy the perverse ironies, how for example the plain clothes cycle chic brigade get so worked up about boys in lycra, who in turn don't know what "slow cycling" is, other than cycling that's slow. The club boys are like Australia, and all the hipsters and greenies and everyone else are New Zealand, an island off the coast of South Africa somewhere. No-one delights in these rivalries so much as Bike Snob NYC, who writes in his marvelous book (on special now too) that cycling attracts different styles as surely as a water park attracts non-ironic mullets. He's a genius that man.

Danger? What danger? Left: Joo janta 200 SuperChromatic Peril-Sensitive sunglasses. Right: Bose QC3 Noise Canceling Headphones.

But if you're like me, and another kind of mischief runs in your veins, you might prefer to simply drive everyone crazy. My latest purchase was made with just that in mind. They are the cyclist's answer to Joo janta 200 SuperChromatic Peril-Sensitive sunglasses, of Hitchhikers' Guide To Galaxy Fame. And just like those glasses that conveniently turn black at the first sign of danger, my latest toy also helps you "develop a relaxed attitude to danger", in this case by canceling any noise on the road that might cause you alarm.

Better still, they make you blissfully unaware of headwinds, and allow you as well to catch up with your favourite pod-casts while riding, and maybe even figure out what the hell Bjork says in her songs. And just maybe they cause drivers and cyclists alike to snigger that you're a poor ambassador for all cyclists, a group you have been commandeered to act on behalf, simply for doing something you have done since you were 6. I'm also a poor ambassador for everyone who ties their own laces.  

Since I posted this last night, I have received desperate emails from someone called Marge, then just now from someone called Tina, begging me to keep safe.
Don't cry for me Marge and Tina,
even on my most wild days,
of my mad existence,
from cars I promise, to keep my distance.