Vintage Bikes Blow

Were it not for the existence of fashion and design, perhaps our evolution as a species would appear less progressive. If for the last hundred years, man wore the same stiff threads that debuted at the turn of the 20th century, than perhaps this article would be etched on a stone tablet or wilted papyrus then typed on a inch-thick notebook. Perhaps my father would navigate his horse-drawn buggy to work at the quarry every morning and my mother would have to squeeze a cow’s tits to garnish my Lucky Charms.

What I’m saying, in an admittedly confusing manner, is that the fashion and design world are constantly years ahead of its consumers, thus acting as a catalyst for change in other areas. For example, when the bikini was popularized, it was so risqué, that it could have influenced engineers to build a more risqué automobile, or refrigerator or lawnmower. People become desensitized to what’s radical until it becomes uniform, giving way to more abnormal ideas which develop into widespread trends.

It’s integral for both mankind and fashion, that we evolve together, identifying new functions and qualities, adapting to an ever-changing planet. It’s evident that with fashion and design, as with most other things in life, there are momentary relapses, where past-trends are revived and the masses re-immerse themselves in nostalgia. Looking to the past for inspiration is not a crime, however its benefits should be strongly considered when the function of the item is obsolete in comparison with contemporary modifications.

Yes, your first Walkman was the gnarliest thing ever at the time, but would you carry it around clipped to your waistband with those foam headphones when you have an iPod a tenth of the size? I would hope not. However, wear your mother’s old leg warmers to the club and you’ll be the hottest shit since Olivia Newton-John. The difference being that the leg warmers are frivolous, merely an accessory that serves almost little purpose, where as the Walkman will give others the impression that you have a serious learning disability. More importantly, the sound quality is horrible.

This brings us to the most annoying trend of recent summers, the revival of vintage bicycles. If I had a quarter for every time I saw some hipster coasting down College St. on a creaky mass of aluminum with a basket, I’d buy one myself and sacrifice it to the gods of functional design.

New bicycles are practical. They’re engineered so that the least amount of force will propel you the furthest, maximizing both speed and endurance, to ensure a smoother, increasingly comfortable ride. They’re quiet, if not silent and are designed to weather the wears and tears of daily use, perfectly serving its purpose as a means of light-weight transportation.

These indie rockers are responsible for a wealth of bullshit concepts and ideologies, most notably their denial of the fact that they’re so punk-rock and non-conformist, that they all coincidentally wear tight jeans, emotional body art, black t-shirts, dark-rimmed non-prescription glasses and ride these annoying little pieces of shit around town. They all read Vice magazine like scripture, have tons of friends in B.C. and love to drink Keith’s bottles and Pabst Blue Ribbon cans. You know the type; you can hear the sound of their rusted derailleur from a mile away.

Vintage bikes are driving me absolutely fucking insane. Do your part. Beat up a cool kid and steal his bike. Bikes can be delivered to my home where they will be melted into an alloy grill and fitted to the dimensions of my teeth. Now that’s cool… and better yet, it’s functional.