There. I said it.
This flies in the face of not one but two of my formerly held beliefs. One, that the four years I spent writing ad copy were a soul-sucking evil that will take years (nay, decades) to erase. Writing advertising is like throwing up: When it's over, you can spit and swish and gargle all you want, but you're still going to taste the bile long after you've flushed down the remains of yesterday's lunch.
The second formerly held belief is that all things Wald are cheap, heavy, and have no place on a "real bicycle." Sure, a Wald basket may be just the thing for collecting scrap aluminum on a Huffy, but no self-respecting Cyclist with a Capital C would ever strap two tons of Kentucky steel on a refined double-diamond thoroughbred. No way, no how.
The revelation that has changed my mind for good is the Wald website. I don't know who's responsible for it, but there's someone out there having a really good time filling in the copy. It ranks up there with the nameless Nashbar scribe who once desperately fattened up a word count with, "It's not just a kickstand... it's a Greenfield." Granted, it is just a kickstand, but I can't see one now without thinking of that line.
One example of why I envy Mr./Ms. Wald Copywriter:
The Wald 8069 handlebar provides an industry-unique feature: clothes hanging compatability.(sic) With a meager rise of 13 inches, you could hang a half dozen shirts on the handles easily (provided you remember to stow the bags so they don't get caught in your spokes).
There are endzone uprights with shorter reaches than these pillars of chrome.
Pillars of chrome! Poetry. And a metaphorical comparison to a football goalpost! Now THAT is good stuff. Unconvinced? Try this on for size:
If commuters are the demigods of dedicated cycling, then messengers are titans of devotion. For those of you a little rusty on your Greek mythology, the Titans held powers usurping that of the gods. Bike messengers have what most might consider a death wish. They stick to their bikes no matter what and are determined to make certain cars, SUVs, buses, cabs, and garbage trucks know they are on the road. If you dare cross into the bike lane they occupy, prepare to be yelled at.
In my days of copywriting, I think I made one tiny stab at a Greek mythology metaphor (likening a gigantic outdoor grill to some obscure, flame-wielding deity -- yeah, I was stretching), and was promptly laughed out of a creative meeting by several spellcheck-deficient graphic designers (it's a tragic ailment of the breed). Meanwhile, over at Wald, some ink-stained wretch (who's probably working on a novel on the side) decides that bike messengers are "titans of devotion" and (envy rising) gets away with it! Beautiful.
So, if any Wald-folk in Maryville, Kentucky are reading, consider this my job application. I'll freelance from here, move to Kentucky, work for chrome fenders and big baskets, you name it.
Now, which one of my bikes needs a dash of Kentucky chrome? Heck, which one doesn't?
Monday, September 22, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
The Cycle Goes Ad-Free
I admit it, when someone told me, "Hey, you can actually make money just for throwing your words against an electronic wall," I was hooked. That's the writer's dream, after all -- actually getting paid to listen to yourself talk.
But after almost a year, my Google-inserted ads have netted me an underwhelming two dollars and change. The kicker? Those ads only pay out in increments of $100. I'm no math major, but it would seem that at my current rate of return, I would have seen that first check on my 85th birthday.
So in honor of my stunning lack of success as an online entrepreneur/scribe, I've just removed the ads from this blog. From here on out, you read for free, no spam cluttering the view. Hopefully, it balances my karmic account for the four years I spent as an advertising lackey.
I may still spam and/or endorse bicycle-related products in my actual writing, but you can be sure I'm plugging them because I've actually used and enjoyed them, not because they were given to me or I was paid to talk about them. If for some reason that changes (hey, maybe there's a bike company out there just looking for the testimonial of a sparsely-read, fat commuter), I'll be sure to provide full disclosure.
But after almost a year, my Google-inserted ads have netted me an underwhelming two dollars and change. The kicker? Those ads only pay out in increments of $100. I'm no math major, but it would seem that at my current rate of return, I would have seen that first check on my 85th birthday.
So in honor of my stunning lack of success as an online entrepreneur/scribe, I've just removed the ads from this blog. From here on out, you read for free, no spam cluttering the view. Hopefully, it balances my karmic account for the four years I spent as an advertising lackey.
I may still spam and/or endorse bicycle-related products in my actual writing, but you can be sure I'm plugging them because I've actually used and enjoyed them, not because they were given to me or I was paid to talk about them. If for some reason that changes (hey, maybe there's a bike company out there just looking for the testimonial of a sparsely-read, fat commuter), I'll be sure to provide full disclosure.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Breaking News from the World of Swimming
A few days ago, I reported on the Lance-ification of swimming following the success of Michael Phelps. Well, the swimming world was rocked today by an announcement from Gary Fisher. Here is the press release in its entirety:
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Gary Fisher Does It Again!
Long known as a pioneering figure in sport, Gary Fisher -- inventor of the mountain bike, in case you hadn't noticed -- announced today that he is also responsible for the latest athletic endeavor to take America by storm: Swimming.
"I was there when it started," Fisher said. "God created the heavens and the earth, and I said to Him, hey, Big Fella, that's going to work out great for this other thing I'm working on -- it's called a Mountain Bike (copyright Gary Fisher, year zero) -- but what say You add something, I don't know, more wet, maybe? So He made the seas and the oceans and the rivers and the streams, and I figured, yeah, I can work with that. I dove in, but the idea didn't hit me right away. I guess you could say I invented drowning too! (laughs) But then I did this sort of arm-flapping, leg-kicking thing, and there you go: Swimming."
Additional notebooks from the early years of Gary Fisher's prodigious career have recently come to light, revealing his pioneering work on the pneumatic tire, the cotton gin, walking upright, and fire.
What will this creative juggernaut come up with next? Only time will tell.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Gary Fisher Does It Again!
Long known as a pioneering figure in sport, Gary Fisher -- inventor of the mountain bike, in case you hadn't noticed -- announced today that he is also responsible for the latest athletic endeavor to take America by storm: Swimming.
"I was there when it started," Fisher said. "God created the heavens and the earth, and I said to Him, hey, Big Fella, that's going to work out great for this other thing I'm working on -- it's called a Mountain Bike (copyright Gary Fisher, year zero) -- but what say You add something, I don't know, more wet, maybe? So He made the seas and the oceans and the rivers and the streams, and I figured, yeah, I can work with that. I dove in, but the idea didn't hit me right away. I guess you could say I invented drowning too! (laughs) But then I did this sort of arm-flapping, leg-kicking thing, and there you go: Swimming."
Additional notebooks from the early years of Gary Fisher's prodigious career have recently come to light, revealing his pioneering work on the pneumatic tire, the cotton gin, walking upright, and fire.
What will this creative juggernaut come up with next? Only time will tell.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
LimpStrong 2.0: On The Books!
Avid readers (all four of you) will note that the Second Annual LimpStrong Ride for the Femorally-Challenged didn't quite get the media coverage of last year's inaugural LimpStrong. Frankly, I was feeling a bit undertrained, so I wasn't quite sure there would even be a Second Annual LimpStrong. But, undertrained or not, I took advantage of astonishingly good weather yesterday and gave it a shot. (Full disclosure: What little media coverage there was for LS 2.0 had mentioned the possibility that it would be on a fixed-gear. Those reports were entirely false, and I'm not sure what the reporter was smoking.)
Our intrepid hero rolls out at 9:30 in the morning, bathed in a heavenly glow. Yes, that's my garage back there, proving that all bicycle-related photography must have a garage door in it somewhere:
Had a nice cat-mouse game with someone as I warmed up on the curvy Greenbelt trail. On each straightaway, I could sense her coming up on my wheel, then I would pull ahead again on the curves. The surface of the trail is pretty choppy, so I'm assuming my fat tires provided a little advantage in the serpentine parts. I could actually hear her getting on the brakes in the curves. Once we turned off on the Raccoon River trail and broke out into the long straight stretch before Waukee, she dropped me like I wasn't moving.
An impaled Yugo on the outskirts of Waukee warns all who come near: "Tiny foreign cars are not welcome here! Begone!" I suspect the ghost of this car prowls the nearby Chevrolet dealer, mocking the rows of unsold SUVs. Yes, that's an official Iowa cornfield in the foreground. I hate to encourage the flyover cliche, but that's our scenery.
Trusty steed, ready to get the "real ride" underway at the trailhead outside Waukee. I did drop my $2 into the "trail pass" tube (confession: I don't always), and it was a good thing I did. They were checking today. Alert readers will note the blue coffee recycling center in the background. I believe those are also soybeans back there, proving that we do have some variety in our scenery.
Old railroad signs don't lie: Yes, this is a converted railbed, and yes, I made it to Adel:
And then there was Redfield. The name of the town didn't turn out in the photo of its co-op, but trust me, it's there:
Lunch break in lovely Panora:
And here's where things turned ugly, as evidenced by the full stop of photos in the SpongeBob mini-cam. To get 100, I needed to push past Panora for about six miles. Next town out there was Yale, 12 miles away. In other words, I was headed into a long mid-day slog in no-person's-land. I gamely pushed out of Panora a couple miles, got pummeled by both wind and sun, and decided to heck with it, LimpStrong 2.0 would be a 90-miler.
Of course, after catching a brief second wind (thanks to a tailwind) getting back home, 90 seemed extremely lame, so I ended up riding some very slow loops around town for the last 10 to make it an official century. I looked (and felt) pretty rough by the time it was all said and done, but I did it. A little over 7 hours ride time and 9 hours "real time." Had every intention of seeing a friend's band play at a nearby street festival, but after a shower and an "eat everything in sight" meal, I just couldn't motivate myself off the couch. Sorry about that, Timm (no typo, two M's) and the rest of Faculty Lounge!
Our intrepid hero rolls out at 9:30 in the morning, bathed in a heavenly glow. Yes, that's my garage back there, proving that all bicycle-related photography must have a garage door in it somewhere:
Had a nice cat-mouse game with someone as I warmed up on the curvy Greenbelt trail. On each straightaway, I could sense her coming up on my wheel, then I would pull ahead again on the curves. The surface of the trail is pretty choppy, so I'm assuming my fat tires provided a little advantage in the serpentine parts. I could actually hear her getting on the brakes in the curves. Once we turned off on the Raccoon River trail and broke out into the long straight stretch before Waukee, she dropped me like I wasn't moving.
An impaled Yugo on the outskirts of Waukee warns all who come near: "Tiny foreign cars are not welcome here! Begone!" I suspect the ghost of this car prowls the nearby Chevrolet dealer, mocking the rows of unsold SUVs. Yes, that's an official Iowa cornfield in the foreground. I hate to encourage the flyover cliche, but that's our scenery.
Trusty steed, ready to get the "real ride" underway at the trailhead outside Waukee. I did drop my $2 into the "trail pass" tube (confession: I don't always), and it was a good thing I did. They were checking today. Alert readers will note the blue coffee recycling center in the background. I believe those are also soybeans back there, proving that we do have some variety in our scenery.
Old railroad signs don't lie: Yes, this is a converted railbed, and yes, I made it to Adel:
And then there was Redfield. The name of the town didn't turn out in the photo of its co-op, but trust me, it's there:
Lunch break in lovely Panora:
And here's where things turned ugly, as evidenced by the full stop of photos in the SpongeBob mini-cam. To get 100, I needed to push past Panora for about six miles. Next town out there was Yale, 12 miles away. In other words, I was headed into a long mid-day slog in no-person's-land. I gamely pushed out of Panora a couple miles, got pummeled by both wind and sun, and decided to heck with it, LimpStrong 2.0 would be a 90-miler.
Of course, after catching a brief second wind (thanks to a tailwind) getting back home, 90 seemed extremely lame, so I ended up riding some very slow loops around town for the last 10 to make it an official century. I looked (and felt) pretty rough by the time it was all said and done, but I did it. A little over 7 hours ride time and 9 hours "real time." Had every intention of seeing a friend's band play at a nearby street festival, but after a shower and an "eat everything in sight" meal, I just couldn't motivate myself off the couch. Sorry about that, Timm (no typo, two M's) and the rest of Faculty Lounge!
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