Wednesday, July 13, 2005


And the Final Battle shall involve Spandex Shorts

It is
a period of civil
war (sort of). Bike-bound
commuters, striking from a hidden
base, have won their first victory against
the evil Gas-Guzzling Empire. During the battle,
Rebel spies managed to steal secret plans to the Empire's
ultimate weapon, the DEATH CAR, an armored suburban assault
vehicle with enough power to destroy an entire bike - rider and all. Pursued
by the Empire's sinister agents, Jason races home aboard his Gray Trek, custodian of
the stolen plans that can save his people and restore freedom to the galaxy - er, rather, the streets of Chicago....

(hmm...that sort of ended up looking like a Christmas Tree.)

Have you taken a look in the Tribune recently? The war between cars and bikes has escalated, although it has remained within the confines of paper and ink. Angry readers fire off letter after letter, a verbal thrust and parry with all the vitriol usually reserved for Cubs vs. Sox. Yes, my friends, the holy war has begun, and the time has arrived to bring the battle out of print. And into...not print!

I propose drastic measures! We must rise up against tyranny (or, I guess, cars in this case) - a rebellion if you will. And if bikes are the rebels, I suppose cars would be...the empire?

Yes, that should good.

So, the point is, the war has just begun. A war that will be space!

No, wait!

A war that will be the streets of Chicago!

yeah, okay, that makes a lot more sense. Anyway, there will be a war one way or the other. We riders of the bike may be smaller, we may not have the technology, or the speed, or...wait, what was my point? Oh yes, the point was, they may have all the advantages, but we have pluck! And if there's one thing history has taught us, it is that pluck wins out over big, nasty evil empires every time, and this shall be no exception.

The need to act is growing increasingly desperate. The empire keeps rolling out bigger and stronger death machines. But, as Burger King's Enormous Omelette Sandwich has shown us, bigger is not always better.

Case in point: The evil empire believed they had achieved victory once they unveiled their ultimate machine (their "Death Car," if you will), the Hummer H2. When the H2 rolled out, many eyes rolled with disbelief. A military vehicle tabbed as a suburban cruiser? That couldn't be a good idea. But saftely experts were no match for the will of the car manufacturers:

Hummer: You don't need to see our emission test.
Inspectors: We don't need to see your emission test.
Hummer: This is a perfectly safe vehicle.
Inspectors: This is a perfectly safe vehicle.
Hummer: We can go about our business.
Inspectors: You can go about your business.
Hummer: (*whispering* maybe we should ask for a subsidy, too)

So the H2 was unveiled and the spirit of many members of the biking community was broken. What was the point anymore? And so it was a dark time in the biking world; it seemed the empire had won. And they may have, if not for a rag-tag band of biking enthusiasts who refused to be taken down by "The Man" ("The Man" is always causing trouble). And so the bikers of the world (okay, the greater Chicago-land area) banded together - Road and Mountain Bikers alike - and devised a plan.

Huddled together around an old Thinkpad, their messenger bags slung jauntily across their backs, the "band of the bike" focused intently as the plans were unveiled. To protect the rebellion, the names have been changed. So, the leader of the rebellion will be called "Leader", I will go as "Me," and the other guy that appears in this little story will be called "Other Guy."

Leader: The H2 is eqipped with a fuel tank approximately 3 inches in diameter.
After refueling, this opening will be exposed, allowing a passing biker the chance
to fire a sugar cube into the tank, causing a chain reaction that will destroy the engine.
Other Guy: That's impossible, even for a commuter!
Me: That's not impossible. I used to bullseye field mice on my Huffy back home,
and they can't be more than 2-3 inches.
Other Guy: Are you sure you're not thinking of Little Bunny Foo-Foo? You know,
scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head?
Me: Oh, right, that was Little Bunny Foo-Foo. Damn, this sugar cube
thing is going to be hard. Is this really the best we could some up with?
Leader: There's nothing wrong with the stupid plan. Just go do it.

And so the first squadron rolled out, helmets perched atop our heads, ready to defeat the Death Car...or die trying.


Die trying? Yeah, okay, maybe not. But I was fully prepared to fall off my bike and possibly scrape my knee. And given the fact that I generally ride my bike with the devil-may-care attitude of an 85 year old man, that is saying a lot.

And so this was to be the day. A day that would go down in history as the greatest victory in the history of bike-kind.

The skies were angry that day, black clouds rolling overhead, thunder rumbling in the distance.

The H2 was spotted in the distance - a cry went up! We all turned our heads towards the Doomsday Device. It was yellow...shiny and yellow...and evil.

Shiny and yellow and evil.

And what happened then? Was the fight for good a success? Well, I'm afraid you will just have to wait for the next installment to find out. You see, this was just the setup. The denouement is still to come. Will the Hummer win? Will good win? Check back next week for the exciting conclusion (well, the conclusion anyway. I probably shouldn't promise exciting).

Until then, take a look over at for the second installment of Spirtual Warfare. Step Two: Disinvite the Enemy.

Just getting my $10 worth of wi fi today. I've been away from your writing too long! I laughed 'till I stopped! Cut it out! Good stuff buddy. Keep it up!

Ditto. And I've forwarded your 'link' so watch out!

I'll be watching out. And you watch know, for icebergs and things.
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