Old Git rant

Here's a magnificent Old Git rant from Australia posted on Fyxomatosis:

PBK
Words by The Ghost.

Its official – the bikes are full of wankers these days and I fear there is no going back.
They’re killing our sport – literally. For those who have witnessed the carnage that is C grade club racing at Carnegie these last few weeks there’s a need to have a good hard look at what’s going on here. Who are these renegades that now inhabit our bunches wreaking havoc? Of course this new breed wouldn’t call them bunches - but Pelotons – being so au fait with the European aesthetic of their new found “hobby”. I’ve pondered from whence they came - wondered what was in their heads - and tonight it was all revealed. It’s Probikekit.
I was taking the long way home – around Kew Boulevard and then I came up behind them. Let’s call them Tosspot and Ponce. Both head to toe in Assos. Ponce on a Look 595 dripping in carbon everything. Tosspot on a Trek Madone and wearing silver time trial aero shoe covers. No change out of $30,000. “Hi fellas” - They turned to look at the old bloke on his 30kg frankenbike with his backpack and faded old jersey on and you could BREATHE the contempt. I contemplated just coming through but then these guys always take this as some sort of challenge - so there I sat on the wheels listening to them warble on about the only conversation subject that these guys and their contemporaries appear capable of engaging in these days - Bike Gear from Probikekit.
Ponce “Got new shoes mate?”
Tosspot “Yeh Sidi Ergo Twos - $369 on Probikekit. I got two pairs – black coz they look pretty cool and a white pair for the hot days coz the black ones heat up” (I thought he said they were cool??).
Ponce “Nice. Seen my new Garmin? Dakota 20. Preloaded 3D maps, elevations and barometrics. $357 on Probikekit. You get a free pair of sunglasses but they’re crap. I’m getting new Oakley Jawbones – but there not on Probikekit yet”
Tosspot “You racing on the Zipps or the Reynolds on Saturday?”
At this point we hit a rise and as my brain explodes with bike tech overload I come through and pull away from them. True to form Ponce jumps across and it’s on. What kudos there might be in taking on a 47 year old bloke on the cycling equivalent of a ’92 Camry with a boot full of rocks I don’t know – but I think these are the same sort of guys that pull wings off flies and beat up on the fat kid at school. They come through and they’re back in their rightful place on the front smirking. The only plus is that the effort seems to have taken away some of their capacity to talk quite as much sh1t – but Ponce still manages to blurt out “Hey mate what wattage were you putting out there?” Tosspot consults the Garmin.
We come to the final rise – my blood is boiling now. I hit ‘em VERY hard and power up the hill. I drop them. As we roll to the bottom I yell across – “see if they sell some of that on Probikekit”
They looked more bemused than offended. Like blokes with pegs on their noses who’ve farted in an elevator they can’t even understand why someone might find them offensive. What’s so irksome is that you know that these guys will be racing C and D grade. It’s as good as they are ever gonna get and for us old blokes falling back through the grades - if you race – you’ll be racing with them. That means there’s a real chance that you will wind up like Bob Quirk. Taken wide in a corner at Glenvale last Sunday by one of these dickheads and now having facial reconstruction surgery in the Alfred. Pain. Time off work. Most likely a Mrs on his case about how he should give it away coz he’s too old and it’s too dangerous and he should spend more time with the kids.
When he does get home - Out in the shed looking at a wrecked bike that he’s actually worked hard to own. A bike he probably put together himself. A bike that he’s always done his own maintenance on. A bike that he actually had some emotional investment in. A bike he didn’t buy off Probikekit but from a mate – who like a chump – runs the local bike shop and is trying to scratch out a living competing with the likes of Probikekit.
Bob might contemplate like I do about the time before the Cafe Bunches and Cadel and the endless Carbon, Carbon, Carbon when part of the appeal of the training ride (Remember them?) was talking about something other than bike parts. Politics, religion, art, economics, nature and music were all on the agenda as you rolled back from an honest effort in the hills. People who rabbited on about bike bits forever were seen as being a bit touched – social lepers – now they’re the patrons of the Peloton.
No one wants to learn how to ride a bike now. Unfortunately for the rest of us who are racing these turds you can’t buy supplesse or tempo or grunt or cornering skills on Probikekit. I recall that when I had the privilege of riding with the old pros I did three things. Firstly I shut my mouth – you were usually so on the rivet holding the wheels that you couldn’t speak anyway – and then I looked and I listened. Like dogs at a barbecue us kids were completely focussed on getting any scrap of wisdom from these guys that we could. We sat on the back in total respect. We listened to how they breathed. We watched every pedal stroke – every gear change. How does he get through that corner so fast? Did he touch the brakes? Does he drop his heels when climbing? And we took their taunts like the miserable rank amateurs that we were.
Then there was track racing. You weren’t even considered a bike rider until you’d done a few seasons on the track - Gone to the country carnivals sleeping on someone’s floor and eating tin rice cream hoping that if you and your mates got a few places there’d be enough cash between you to go and get a counter meal and put petrol in the car to get home. At Carnegie track racing was still segregated when I started. The Pros raced their races and us amateurs ours. In between the Pros sat in the middle of the track cooking in the sun – amateurs on the outside under a tree – soft. But to these new guys a track bike is “A Fixie” - something you ride in tight jeans to a fringe film festival or boutique brewery. I imagine you can buy them on Probikekit.
Sure as kids we coveted the pro’s bikes but back then it was understood that you had to earn the right to ride a Campag equipped Colnago. If we’d have dared to show up on a bike like that then we were expected to have the goods in the legs – otherwise you were just a blowhard. “All show and no go” they would say. A pretender.
I don’t know what the solution is and I’m not sure I know what the genesis of this plague has been. Obviously the sport’s profile and popularity has risen immeasurably but that doesn’t explain the over confident I’m the centre of the universe mindset of this new generation of riders. Obviously it is something broader – something societal. We view technology as the panacea to all ills. Got no friends? Facebook. Not placing in the races? Carbon bottle cages should fix that. I know that I’m starting to come across now as the archetypal grumpy old b@stard. Jaded, bitter. Bemoaning the younger generation’s lack of respect. And then I contemplated that maybe it’s always been this way.. Maybe back in the day to the older guys- I too seemed the same as these kids seem to me. Young and full of myself.
Once as we approached the mountains - we kids were giggling and dicking about. One of the older guys fell back pointed to the hills and said “Do you know who lives there?
The eternal smart arse I replied “I dunno – The Beverley Hillbillies?” Laughs all round.
He asked again in a tone that made us all go quiet.
“Do you know who lives there? Pain lives there. We’ll see who’s still laughing at the top. I think it’s time to shut up now and let the legs do the talking”
One kid put very much back in his little box.
Maybe Ponce and Tosspot are back in theirs - even if only for a minute or two.

Now that I’ve got that off my chest I need to get on Probikekit and have a look at these shoes

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