The other day as I was grinding out time on the weapon of mind destruction in the garage my mind started wandering. I idled away passing of the mental desert by thinking about the sub-sects of cycling and how they can be drawn into stereotypes. From there it was a small and tidy step to lining those various factions up with dead musicians.
So without further ado here's my take on cyclists versus dead musicians.
Racing cyclists = Freddie Mercury. That whole prancing prima donna behaviour, the macho/camp effect is here in this group in spades. Sometimes it obscures the dedication and will to succeed, but there is talent and persistence galore. I'm just a trifle concerned that a quick straw poll amongst this group would find a reasonable percentage who fantasise about dressing as a housewife and pushing round the hoover.
Fixie riders = Sid Vicious. Hard to really add to much more, think Sid Vicious (Real name John Beverly) as the ultimate fashion victim, think that travesty of "My Way", think looked good, not original, playing bass badly. It's just like the whole skinny jeans, brakeless thing, just smack on wheels. They aren't rebels at all, just naughty children.
Modern New Bike Acquirees =Michael Hutchence. I talking about those mid-life crisis types who acquire a bike as part of the "New Golf". They typically have the latest and best, are competitive and are rebels, well in their own minds. Like Michael Hutchence they are successful in their careers and lives but I'd wager that cycling is a little like Michael's dalliance with a belt and a door. Auto-erotic asphixia anyone?
BMX = Darcy Clay, rebels and innovators, widely misunderstood, can be tragic. Jesus I was Evil.
Single Speed MTB = John Bonham. They are just louts, wanting to have fun.
Time Triallists = Karen Carpenter. Obsessive and dark, while appearing to be light and normal. The Carpenters sounded like some over sugared confection and looked as wholesome as white bread. The reality was Karen's inner demons and lyrics to make you afraid of unrequited love and bunny-boiling stalkers. Those who ride time trails are equally obsessed, and every bit as lonely. It's a special sort of pain.
Triathletes = Richard Harris. Really an actor but had a hit with "McArthur Park", couldn't sing, mumbled and slurred his way through a turgid mess of words. Sums up those strange folk who need to bookend a ride with swim and a run.
Knocked out a great ride with The Croc today, I'm not the man I was.
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