Wednesday afternoon — staring stupidly at the computer for an unproductive two hours. It’s a gorgeous day out there. So I take a bike ride to the beach.
At the extreme north end of Surf Road in Hollywood, where it ends and becomes a dirt path to Dania Beach (that’s fitting), there’s an access area to the beach where over the years a few desperate attempts to plant palms have ended in sad failure. They’re at it again:
The line on the bag reads, “I’ll be removed after I’ve taught this tree to stand on its own!”
Trees in a bag. I love this century. Godspeed.
So let’s talk about bikes and bags. Here’s something I always suspected that turns out to be true.
Bike seats are designed in such a way that body weight typically rests on the nose of the seat, which can compress nerves and blood vessels in the genital area. In men, this raises the risk of erectile dysfunction, something that has been documented in studies of male police officers on bicycle patrol. NYTimes
This explains a number of things. On a personal level, I understand the cause of the pain in my package every time I ride my bike. Basically, I’m crushing my own nutsack.
On a global level, it helps explain why bicycle cops are such a miserable bunch. After a long day of pedaling their asses, they can’t get it up. This must be especially frustrating for those cops on beach patrol, who, if they’re anything like me, spend a lot of time eyeballing the exposed oiled flesh of scantily clad women in beachwear.
But there’s more:
A study by Yale researchers in 2006 found that female cyclists had less genital sensation compared with a control group of female runners. As a result, some scientists believe that female cyclists probably are at similar risk for sexual problems as male riders.
The long and short of this –pardon the expression — seems to be that riding a bike is bad for your sex life. This is probably not the news that exercise freaks want to hear, not to mention the scads of biking fanatics who clamor for their divine right to clog up highways and slow traffic down to their own impotent pace.
So next time you’re in your car and encounter some obnoxious biker boy slowing you down and crowding you into oncoming traffic as is their wont, pull up beside him and holler something clever like, “Whyncha get offa road, free up your nads, and get laid!” Unless it’s a female. You can devise your own abuse — please use the Comments section for suggestions.
I’ll leave you with a very old ditty, the second verse of which is less well known:
Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer do
I’m half crazy, All for the love of you
It won’t be a stylish marriage
I can’t afford a carriage
But you’ll look sweet Upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two!
Michael, Michael Here is your answer true.
I’ll not cycle Over the world with you.
If you can afford a carriage,
There won’t be any marriage.
‘Cause I’ll be damned, If I’ll be crammed
On a bicycle built for two!
Daisy knew what she wanted. Smart girl.