Isaw a runner running in the snow last winter, and I thought "That guy's crazy." Then I realized that that's how I'm regarded by most of the populace, including most of my non-biker friends and relatives. Sure, everyone knows bike commuting is a good thing, healthy, environmentally friendly, etc. It always comes up in casual conversation, and, inevitably, the subject turns to mileage. They all pretend to be duly impressed when I tell them how much I ride, but deep down they're thinking "This fellow's a loony."
To some extent, crazy is in the mind of the beholder. I personally think people with purple hair and rings in all sorts of unusual places are crazy, but there seem to be a lot of them. I guess, as far as who is the arbiter of craziness, "vox populi, vox dei," which loosely translated means "If you're in a room full of people with purple hair, you're the weird one." So bicyclists being a very small minority have a good start in the craziness arena. Thinking of my fellow club members, I have to see how the mainstream might consider us just a little odd.
Many of us feel a tad self-conscious walking around in skin tight lycra. The bicycle fashion plate, on the other hand revels in it. He will wear his biking togs to all sorts of social occasions, the smellier the better (this proves that he's done serious miles).
Then there's the mileage maven, whose first topic of conversation is a mileage report, detailing every mile logged since last you saw them, with a comparison with last week's mileage, projected next week's mileage, etc.
Second cousin to the mileage maven is the goal oriented type. They have specific goals to achieve, such as "I plan to bike 37.2 miles today at an average speed of 18.3 mph, eating only 4.3 power bars and drinking 37.4 ounces of water." I shouldn't snicker, since I too am goal oriented, but mine tend to be somewhat more mundane, such as finishing the ride early enough to have a few beers before dinner.
The gear freak knows every possible gear ratio in his head. He will look at your bike with disgust, since you have severe overlap on several of your gears, poor devil. It would be better to insult his parentage than question his choice of gearing.
The retrogrouch prides himself on having a bicycle that's older than his children (I'm dangerously close to a self-portrait here). The last time he bought a new component aside from brake pads and tires, was 1983. His bike can be easily spotted by the four different kinds of handlebar tape, all in various stages of unravelling. He's lashed his twelve year old rack back together after it finally broke in half with used inner tubes and bits of string he's found on the road, and figures to get another ten years out of it before needing to replace the string.
The equipment freaks are divided mainly into two camps, Italian and Japanese. The Italian lovers think Tullio Campagnolo is a god, and enjoy the beauty and elegance of the equipment. They are usually seen polishing their components. The Japanese camp delight in every new technological gizmo. "Hey, I've got the new STI SPD QED". They are most likely seen lubricating and adjusting their components, when they're not reading the spec sheets. You could start a holy war in a room full of biker's by casually mentioning that the Shimano wizbang was far superior to the Campagnolo one. There's some crossover with the retrogrouch here, since the Campy crowd like the fact that you can still get a replacement screw for your 20 year old Campy derailleur.
Then there are the specialists. Ed Trumbull, a legend in his own time, has amassed a fortune in found money. Bicycle bozo (code name Eric Ferioli), is the human ant, carrying objects many times his size and weight on his bike.
So are we all crazy? I don't know about you, but I'd rather have purple tights than purple hair.
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