Once upon a time in America, a Ford and Chevy would pull up at a stop sign together, rev their engines, then race to the next red light. Fifty years later, as our dwindling fossil fuel supply pours into the Gulf of Mexico, the scenario is more like this: A tattooed fixie rider, U-lock stuffed into the back pocket of his pencil-leg jeans, does a track stand next to a bearded recumbent rider while waiting for the Fremont Bridge to close. What could the two possibly have to say to each other? Are they even members of the same tribe? And which one is the bigger dork? Such questions of taxonomy and mutual scorn have made the blogger known as BikeSnobNYC (aka Eben Weiss) indispensable, hilarious reading since 2007 (Lance Armstrong is a fan); and now he’s compiled his observations into a book simply known as Bike Snob (Chronicle, $16.95). Because, really, all cyclists are snobs—each convinced that his or her mode of transportation is superior to the vintage Bianchi or Goodwill beater or full-suspension, double-disc-braked mountain rig or carbon-fiber Cervélo likewise patrolling the Burke-Gilman Trail. Weiss makes fun of us all because he’s one of us all: former messenger, weary Brooklyn bicycle commuter, weekend racer. Every stereotype comes in for mockery, and he makes important points about safety, helmets, and bike lanes. “Don’t ride next to cars at intersections,” he writes. “Think of cars as affectionate cats that are going to try to rub themselves against you.” BRIAN MILLER

Sat., June 19, 2 p.m., 2010

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