I had an opportunity to ride with the Black Label New York. Their digs, two converted warehouse floors in Brooklyn, seemed the ideal place to spawn crazy bikes and other creative endeavors. I checked out their zany bikes (most of them destroyed since the recent bike kill) and picked the stupidest one to ride:





Being a pennyfarthing rider myself, I could really appreciate the ins and outs of this ridiculous thing. We rode down to a place on the little canal that juts into Brooklyn that featured a sunken set of benches and a nice view of Manhattan. We were doing the usual BLBC thing- drinking by the river- when two cars pulled up. The two men from each car talked for a bit, then suddenly one set was patting down the other and stuffing them in the back of their car. We stayed out of sight and peeked through a crack in the concrete wall- if this was a bust, why weren't other uniformed cops showing up? Then more beefy guys arrived in an H2. Suddenly one of them whips out an assault rifle! He cocked it, and there was this moment where we all looked at each other, then the canal, ready to dive in. But they got into their car and the 'suspect's' car, one man driving off with the cocked assault rifle in his lap, and leaving the H2. Only in New York!