My Next Unicycle

We all have a 'next unicycle.'

About 8 or 9 years ago, my 'next unicycle' was decided for me by some guy who zoomed past while I was walking around my old nabe. [Is this even true? Why would I have been walking in my old neighborhood? Anyway,...] I told the guy that I'd never seen a wheel that large; it was a Semcycle 26" uni, and until then, the largest size most of us had ridden was a Schwinn 24" unicycle. The 26" was a revelation. The additional height of the wheel was less than a 10% change, but it felt like more, and suddenly I was speeding along my errands.

My brother went one step further. Over my protestations that it would be too large to control, he bought a Semcycle 28" uni. Wow. That thing really rode! He easily outstripped me on that huge wheel of his, and before long, I was kicking myself for having gone up only two inches when I could have added four. But soon, John realized that even the 28" was too small. He had been surfing the web and had discovered the nascent world of Cokers.

Back in the early 1990s, the idea of riding a 36" unicycle was a bit preposterous. It seemed like a good idea only for people riding really long distances on ground that was mostly level and smooth -- certainly not the typical conditions of NYC. And riding a Coker on a sidewalk seemed dangerous for both the unicyclist and pedestrians. But John went and ordered one anyway. I borrowed his 28" and made plans to get my own until I tried out his Coker a few times. Not only was it fast and maneuverable once you got used to it, but it was also safe for sidewalk riding as long as you took precautions. So it was not long before I, too, had to have a Coker. Within a few years, I'd gone from owning three unicycles (the 24" Schwinn I rode everywhere, a 20" Schwinn giraffe, and that old 20") to having a veritable plethora of one-wheeled vehicles. Currently I have these cycles:

* freestyle 20" with carbon-composite seat
* that old Schwinn giraffe (1982)
* ultimate wheel (24")
* ultimate wheel (26")
* impossible wheel (20")
* trials (20")
* Coker (36")
* Coker deluxe wheel with Wyganofsky extension (handle)
* privately-made 46" uni
* "Spin Cycle (20"), same maker
* Semcycle 28"
* Torker 24"
* 12"
* 16" (Emmett's current uni)
* 20" trials (Fiona's)
* 20" Torker (Fiona's 10th bday present!)
* 29" Schlumpf geared uni
... and I also have three Super Trick Cycles and a bunch of incomplete unis. Oh, and a tandem bicycle (but not a regular bike. It was stolen).

And yet I need at least one more. After all, how am I going to ride around my new property if I don't have a mountain unicycle. So after we move (and if I think I can afford it), I'm going to get myself a nice little starter muni. But after that, I don't think I'll need another unicycle for some time. But then again, who knows?

Queer Eye for the Straight Unicyclist

This month marks the second anniversary of my biggest tv-related disappointment: I was passed over for an appearance on "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy."

I applied when the show was about at its hottest, so I was thrilled when I got called in for an interview. I went to a quiet space on East 22nd Street where some shows were holding auditions. A few guys were before me, but they were done fast. When it was my turn, the interviewer mentioned a few items from my application that had immediately grabbed her interest: I was a judge at the Miss Fire Island drag queen contest? How did THAT happen? We talked about that for awhile, both of us imagining how it might work with the Queer Eye guys, and then she asked me about unicycling. I had had to submit a photo of myself, so I chose the one where I'm pushing my older two in the stroller. We also talked about Shirra (who was pregnant at the time -- maybe that could work in the show), my clothes, my house, and so forth.

A few weeks later, I got another call, this time setting up a home interview. This was a big deal, because of the 700+ applicants per week, only a small handful get to this level -- perhaps a dozen. Right away my chances for getting onto the show were magnified a hundredfold. The home interview went swimmingly, too -- I even demonstrated my unicycling for the pair of interviewers (a young man and woman), and when it was over, they told me that I would be notified by phone if I were chosen for the show. If I didn't hear from them, that was good news, too -- it would mean that I was still in the running. The only bad news I could get is if they sent me a "Dear John" e-mail. This was in early October of 2003.

Months went by. I lost e-mail service at school one day and realized that if they tried to contact me with bad news, their e-mail would bounce back, so I called my contact at the show. She reassured me that I was not only still in the running but that the producers had just that day gone over my application and had decided to keep me in the pool a bit longer. I kept my fingers mogen-davided (that's what Jews do -- no 'fingers crossed' for us).

Then one day in February, 2004, I heard a ping on my school computer. I was on the phone with Shirra at the time. I looked at the screen and saw the sender's address: info@queereye.com. I knew it was the "Dear Straight Guy" letter. That was a big downer.

For months after, I kept hoping they'd reconsider (or run out of guys) and call me. Or that the producer would say that I was perfect for some other show they were trying to populate. Or....

I haven't been able to watch the show since. I don't experience too many sadnesses in life, and this certainly isn't one, but as much as it makes for an interesting story, it certainly was one of the biggest bummers of my life.

Usin' the Ol' Helmet

On my Coker ride home this evening, I was having fun with my usual boring parkside route by treating it like a monster muni course. I rode around every available obstacle (trees, lampposts, etc) and decided to ride on the cobblestone skirt of the path rather than the smoother sidewalk. In part, this was a challenge, but it also seemed like a great way to add some more muscle -- riding on cobblestones takes a lot out of a guy.

Cobblestones are wonky.

Suddenly I lost balance and began to lurch forward. I jumped off and tried to run it out but realized I'd be hitting the ground, so I did one of my patented tuck-and-roll moves. Normally I pop right back up, but this time, I was wearing my fanny pack. The pack caused me to stop my smooth somersault mid-roll, and I ended up smashing my helmet really hard on the pavement.

The fanny pack served one purpose (protect my spine in case of emergency) but caused a problem. I'm not sure how to resolve this one. And I need a new helmet light; the old one was smashed to pieces. My head seems ok, tho.

This was the first time I'd ever really smashed my head on the ground -- the first time I was really thankful for my helmet.

The Time I Got Hit by That Bus

I apparently forgot to tell you about the time I got hit by a bus while unicycling.

"Hit" is a bit too strong -- perhaps "grazed." Maybe "brushed." The only part of my life that flashed before my very eyes was the stuff that was going on at that moment.

I was pedaling to school earlier than usual one morning but found myself needing to pick up a few minutes, so after I left the park, I decided to ride down Flatbush Ave, one of the most dangerous cycling streets in New York. Back then I rode mostly in the street because I hadn't switched to the longer cranks and therefore had less control for sidewalk riding than I do now. As usual I was in the far right lane. In fact, this lane was still packed with parked cars, but they were all a little bit further down the road. Suddenly I heard what sounded like two cars hitting their brakes and smashing together. I felt a little flick at my elbow, but it was the noise that made me hop off my unicycle. It took me about 50 feet to stop because I was going fast downhill; when I turned around, I realized that a small schoolbus that had been (illegally) in my lane had swerved to avoid me and had smashed into a small car. No one was hurt.

I looked at my elbow, and sure enough, there was a tiny flap of loose, dry skin, only a few layers deep; no blood, no bruise, no pain. I concentrated my next few minutes calmly chewing out the bus driver. He had been speeding along and had tried to pass other drivers by using the parked car lane. He swerved when he saw me; it was his side-view mirror that nicked me.

His bus was a bit banged up, as was the car he'd side-swiped. The driver of that car, an EMT, kept the calmest of the three of us. After I'd sarcastically explained certain laws to the driver, he got really red in the face, trying to act as tho I shouldn't have been riding in the street. The irony wasn't lost on me: Curmudgeonly pedestrians are always telling me to get off the sidewalk, and this idiot was telling me to get off the street.

Police came an hour later (so much for me saving time on my way to work!) and took our statements. As usual, they had no idea what the laws say about unicycles, so I didn't find them too helpful. They certainly didn't seem to take my side. They also didn't take the bus driver's alcohol level -- something that makes no sense given that he had been driving dangerously according to two other people. When I was involved in a fender-bender in Wales, the police gave me a Breathalizer test (and found that I had too little alcohol in my system -- I drink about a half glass of wine per year).

Normally I would have been all over this driver legally. I should have called up his company and explained what he had done and called his school district and told them that he looked drunk when he hit me, and so on. But for some reason, I held back, and eventually I lost the information and by the time I found it, the accident was deep in the past.

This happened in about 2002, and it made me feel very lucky. Had the bus driver swerved a few milliseconds later, I would have been knocked around by his mirror. I might have landed in traffic and been killed. And Shirra would be a widowed mother of two rather than a wife and mother of three. So that day has always been a turning point for me. I declared that the rest of my life would hereby be 'icing' and that I would try to relax and enjoy it. I didn't complete stop to smell the roses, but I slowed down enough to pick up some of their scent.