Shorthand for Nothing

If you’ve been following the media in the past five years or so, you’ve read dozens of trend pieces about the so-called “Millennial” generation. If you have cultural awareness greater than that of a sea urchin, you’re aware that these stories are all so much meaningless tripe–the efforts of a dying industry to become relevant, or the backlash against those who are rendering them useless. And you probably dismissed these trend pieces and lost interest.

Apparently TechCrunch writer Paul Carr missed the memo, and wrote a lengthy and vitriolic screed denouncing the evils of the Millennial generation, without a trace of irony. He expresses nothing but derision for everyone aged 30 or under, and reacts with horror to stories he found by “spend[ing] a few minutes Googling.” Apparently Mr. Carr believes the plural of anecdote is data.

He concludes his little hate speech with a morality lesson where he feels that the moral of the story in the film Social Network is that hard work and dedication pays off.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so bothered by such blatant and baseless discrimination against an enormous demographic, fueled mostly by bile and impotent rage, but there it is. Ignoring the fact that these trend pieces he bases his story on are completely empty and describe, at best, a small subset of the under-30 population, this article is nothing more than hatred of those who are different. Not people who are doing anything wrong, merely people who view the world through a different lens, because they were raised in a different culture.

Because culture changes, Mr. Carr. Just because the world doesn’t work the way you were taught it should doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. You’ll live a much more fulfilling life if you actually learn to accept things, instead of writing hateful screeds about people who are different than you. You might even learn something.

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In the past few years I’ve become something of a minimalist.* Partly it’s been out of necessity: I haven’t had a lot of disposable income, and I don’t like shipping things I don’t need when I move, or taking up a lot of space. These days my possessions consist largely of my bike, my clothes, and my computer, and some accessories to the bike and computer.

With yesterday’s new wheelset, I just reached the point on my bike (a Bridgestone 400) that I don’t really need to spend more money on it, apart from maintenance. It’s got good new components, a solid frame, and it rides just the way I like it. Anything left to do  is pretty minor, and totally doable.

I’m also nearing the point with my list of accessories that I’ll be in a similar place. I say “accessories” here, when really I mean “things I need or will need.” The list included a real bike lock, some more winter-appropriate shoes, a bigger, better bag, and a jacket for Seattle’s rainy winter. I’ve since ordered or picked up all these things. I’ll probably need a few other things, but they’re minor, maintenance-level expenses at best.

From here, the plan is to build up a track bike using the Bridgestone frame, and transfer the components on the Bridgestone over to a new, sexier frame. I realized as I was done building up my wheels that I didn’t really need to buy a whole lot if I wanted to make a new road bike–pretty much just the frame and the fork. And the thing about a track bike is there isn’t much to them. No shifters or derailleurs, no rear brake. The only expensive purchases will be wheels and cranks.

As for why I want it? I’ve been wanting to try a fixed conversion on the Bridgestone for a while, but since it’s both my work bike and my only bike, I didn’t like the chance that I’d decide that riding fixed is more trouble than it’s worth in hilly Seattle. And it gives me a backup in the event of catastrophic failure of either bike, and options for different weather conditions and so on.

And it will be fun. That’s a huge part of what this whole biking thing is about.

*that list is out of date. when I get my Seagull bag I may post an update.

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This Saturday was the occasion of Mobius Cycle‘s Core Whore 2010 alleycat race. It consisted of seven checkpoints, scattered throughout Seattle’s downtown core, and a die rolled at each stop. That die told you where you were going next, and represented how many Core Whore Dollars you received for that particular run. The race ran for three hours, from 5 pm to 8 pm. It was my first alleycat race.

As the poster describes it, “Everyone starts together, but a roll of the dice insures you ride alone.” It’s an apt description of the way the race ended up. Somewhere between twenty and thirty racers left Mobius, each heading for one of the six other stops. It started with a sprint through heavy traffic. We were a small group of three, large architectural plans sticking from our messenger bags, sprinting for the Virginia Inn on 1st.

On arrival we each got our money for the first delivery and rolled the die to see where we were going next, and we went our separate ways. And most of the rest of the race was alone: though I would see and salute the other racers, and sometimes follow them on their routes for a time, mostly the only interactions took place at the stops. They were fleeting at best, as none of us had the time for leisure. There was, after all, a race on.

I knew I would be pretty outclassed, in terms of talent, going in. I’ve been in the saddle since early to mid summer, and working on a bike for something like a month. To contrast, in the race were the first ever North American to win the messenger world championships, as well as other messengers who have been on the job for years. I am, in short, new to this. (It is worth noting that the second place finisher and the returning King of the Core is a dishwasher.)

Which is fine. At my last stop, after everyone had started smoking their cigarettes and drinking the last remnants of their water, Jon, the mechanic who got my road bike on the road, asked how I thought I did. I said that I thought I’d done reasonably well, then I stopped and added, “Of course, I really have nothing against which to compare myself.” Someone else asked if it was my first alleycat. I nodded, and Jon said, “Well, hey, personal best!” in a wryly optimistic sort of way.

It’s a good way to look at it.

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