Sorry, this thing:
Well, sure, I suppose you could say this bag is basically a kludge that relocates your "bidon" (ugh) from your bike to your back, but according to the Jetflow website you can easily put larger bottles in there:
What is the absolute largest feasible size of bottle I can use in the Jetflow?
The adaptor will fit a three liter soda bottle (which will fit into some of the larger packs.) Two-liter bottles easily fit into the Jetflow packs. We recommend using 1.5-liter bottles, which fit into the small packs nicely.
I have the small bag, and I haven't checked to see how big a bottle I can cram in there, but evidently they recommend using a 1.5-liter bottle--though I can fit two liters if I'm so inclined:
Maximum Storage of Two 1.0 Liter Bottles (2.0 Liter - 66 oz.) in back load cell. (smaller volume bottles acceptable)
So then I went to see what the comparably-sized (and comparably-priced) CamelBak was, and...well, it's the kiddie one:
Full-on hydration for pint-size thirsts. The Mini Mule® holds 1.5L of fresh hydration in a bike pack scaled to fit kids comfortably and keep them freewheeling all day. One front-side pocket. Reflective strip for safety.
I'm so embarrassed now.
Still, I'm going to keep using it, because that's enough beverage for a leisurely sub-epic ride, and also I can roll through the supermarket and plug a bottle of tomato juice or olive oil or straight margarita mix directly into the system without having to pour it into a bladder first.
Can you do that?
("No, but I'd like to. It's olive oil that gives me my sheen.")
By the way, I like how they include Diet Coke among the beverage suggestions:
Yes, there's nothing quite as pleasant as emitting chemically sweet NutraSweet burps while you're "slaying" some singletrack.
Anyway, the sad truth is that I don't have time for the sorts of gigantic rides that would require strapping a massive elephant's bladder to my back. I don't know why this is, given that I'm a semi-professional bike blogger, an occupation that ranks slightly below semi-professional masturbator in terms of responsibility and difficulty. So you'd think I have plenty of time to ride. Yet still, somehow, the sun disappears beneath the horizon and I'm left wondering, "Where did the day go?"
Maybe it's just poor time management on my part. I mean, I could cut out the six hours of television viewing a day, but as a blogger it's vital that I remain culturally informed so I can get all those snarky Twitter references. Or, maybe it's because I live in a Big City, and life is just harder here. For example, my mayor doesn't want me drinking more than 16 ounces of soda at a time. So, if I want to drink a giant soda while I'm watching my six hours of television, then I have to go to two different stores and buy two smaller sodas. Therefore, in the end, it takes me twice as much time and effort to get a humungous tub of liquid sugar as it does the typical fat slob elsewhere in the country--not to mention the hour and a half I spend circling the block in my SUV looking for a parking space!
At least I left Brooklyn, where if you order a Coke in a restaurant they look at you like you're an idiot and say, "We serve Fentimans."
Yeah, the truth is that you hicks and rubes just can't relate to how hard I have it. That's why I like to read about the bicycle cycling in other big cities, like London, and here's an entertaining primer that was recently forwarded to me by a reader:
Much of this is relatable to the bicycle cycling life in New York, such as this:
8. You can never have enough locks. Two, minimum. London bikes work like umbrellas in that you never actually own one, you just occupy it briefly in a time-share scenario. Love your bike but know it will eventually leave you just like everything else.
Like, I know, right? I totally read something similar in a book called "Bike Slob" or something. But yes, absolutely, two locks at a minimum. Indeed, today I used three:
(My bike's the one with the snooty Brooks hand-chamfered by Eric "The Chamferer" Murray himself, not the one with the saddle made of masking tape.)
By the way, I also always take a parting photograph of my bicycle since there's a good chance it will be gone when I return, and you always want a recent picture for your impassioned Craigslist post--which I've also pre-drafted because I'm awesome at time management:
STOLEN BICYCLE PLEASE HELP!!!
Help!!! My bicycle was stolen in Manhattan today. It had three locks on it, including an obnoxious pink one for my obnoxious Brooks saddle (what have I become?!?). However, I did lock it using the "Sheldon Brown method," i.e. through the rear wheel only, and frankly I always had my doubts about that, so I'm going to go ahead and blame him and call him out as a bearded charlatan. French threading my ass. Anyway, the bike has couplers and wheels and is brown and has like 400' of pink and green spacers. This was the bike I was going to take to Australia with me so now I'm just going to have to ride a fucking kangaroo while I'm there.
No reward if found, unless you consider blowing yourself a reward.
See that? Now when I walk outside and my bike's gone I can post this in like five seconds.
Here's one I could only half-relate to:
13. Black cab drivers want you dead. Once a year a black cab driver will scream out of a passing window a sentence along the lines of “I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE YOU CUNT” just to remind you of their feelings. The last time I was in a black cab I actually sat in a puddle of cold human semen, so: black cabs, the feeling is pretty mutual.
See, I've had plenty of frustrating encounters with cab drivers, but THANK THE ALMIGHTLY LOBSTER ON HIGH I've never sat in human semen, cold or otherwise. (Well, at least not in a taxi cab.) By the way, it was around this point in the story where I wondered, "Who the hell wrote this, anyway?," so I checked the byline and then visited the writer's Twitter. Here's her profile pic:
Not for nothing, but that's the best "I've just sat in cold semen" expression I've ever seen.
And of course everyone in New York knows this to be true:
17. Pedestrians never look where they’re going. Like, never. You will spend your first year marvelling at the confidence with which they stride into the road looking at their phones or run right out into intersections unexpectedly. You will spend the rest of your life dodging them and wondering when they’ll notice how close to death they just came. They won’t. My mum once gave me a piece of advice: “Assume everyone else is an idiot”. I can’t remember what it was for or about (maybe dudes, condoms) but I’ve repurposed it for cycling in London.
Indeed. Like this guy. He's got eleven seconds on the crossing clock and he's going to use them all up futzing with his smartphone and shuffling along in his designer sneaker/shoes:
Maybe if we weren't so busy with our phones we wouldn't be sitting in puddles of cold semen all the time.
As I always tell my seventeen (17) children, there are two kinds of people in this word: the ones leaving the semen deposits, and the ones sitting in them. Which kind do you want to be?
Think about it.
By the way, I took the above picture while riding through Times Square, which is the asshole of New York City:
Sure, it's been cleaned up, but a bleached asshole is still an asshole.
And speaking of locks, here's an ironically-named "Heavy Duty Bike Lock," as spotted by a reader in the United Kingdom of Kingdoms, who was clever enough to include his pinkie for scale:
Heavy duty my scranus. Not only that, but how could they not put Bret on the packaging?!? He's the very face of poor quality bicycle products!
It does come with two keys though, so I recommend keeping one and taping the other onto your bike along with a note that says, "Take me." At least that way maybe they won't scratch your bike while they're stealing it.
Lastly, another reader tells me that Portland continues to be Portland:
The Portland Fruit Tree Project had a "Bike-Powered Harvesting Party" on Saturday in southeast Portland. The non-profit organizes volunteers to harvest and take care of fruit trees that would otherwise be neglected. Half of the fruit goes to a local food bank (via their distribution partner Urban Gleaners) and the rest is taken home by everyone who participates in the harvest.
On Saturday, A group of folks used bicycles and cargo trailers to harvest pears and plums from trees grown in various backyards in the Richmond neighborhood. All their tools, reaching poles, ladders, boxes of fruit and so on, were carried by bike. After the fruit had been picked, local bicycle delivery company Portland Pedal Power showed up to transport the fruit to Urban Gleaners and local school summer lunch programs.
Good for you. When you're finished with that go get me a big fucking soda.
Lastly, another reader tells me that Portland continues to be Portland:
The Portland Fruit Tree Project had a "Bike-Powered Harvesting Party" on Saturday in southeast Portland. The non-profit organizes volunteers to harvest and take care of fruit trees that would otherwise be neglected. Half of the fruit goes to a local food bank (via their distribution partner Urban Gleaners) and the rest is taken home by everyone who participates in the harvest.
On Saturday, A group of folks used bicycles and cargo trailers to harvest pears and plums from trees grown in various backyards in the Richmond neighborhood. All their tools, reaching poles, ladders, boxes of fruit and so on, were carried by bike. After the fruit had been picked, local bicycle delivery company Portland Pedal Power showed up to transport the fruit to Urban Gleaners and local school summer lunch programs.
Good for you. When you're finished with that go get me a big fucking soda.
