At Boulevard Bikes.

I have a fetish for fixed-gear bikes. My eyes follow fixed-gear messengers as they glide down the street, and when I see a fixie parked I will stop for a few seconds to study and admire it.

The fixie makes perfect sense in Chicago, where the only hills are overpasses and it behooves a rider to have fewer parts that can get gunked up by salt and oil. But I could never have one of my own.

There are two ways to get a fixie: build one or buy one. I lack the mechanical proficiency to build one (my lack of bike know-how deserves a separate post and probably a proper scolding, too) and I haven't the spare cash to buy one.

And even if I could buy one, I'd be a pretender. I'd be trying to buy into a cachet. I'd be the type derided in "High Fidelity," the kind of guy who shaves his head and then claims to have always been punk.