The Wheel of Samsara

LAS VEGAS, Nev.—Like ingredients in an unholy Mulligan Stew, where dissonant flavors are purposely dumped into a cauldron and set atop a smokey fire to simmer, an odd collection of humanity mingles in this strange town.

Along the railroad tracks to the North, ramshackle tents and piles of filth betray the wherabouts of squatters existing below the government radar of Income Tax and Social Security Withholdings; sugar babies with their nubile twenty-something bodies and come-hither smiles adorn the arms of upper-middle-aged high-rollers who have come to town to spend an off-the-record weekend away from their wives; corpulent couples in caftans and baggy Christian Dior shirts emerge from their mobile homes to ponder buffet offerings, taking notes and making comparisons as if each entree were artwork vying for a spot in a juried exhibit; and the Tony Soprano wannabes—with their Hawaiian shirts, cultivated sneers and overly eager disdain for anyone who doesn't look like them—are ubiquitous.

So how do you make Las Vegas even weirder than it already is?

Import a couple thousand bike geeks from all points of the compass for the bike industry's largest annual tradeshow and set them loose in a big convention hall just off The Strip.

Interbike 2007 is a gear-head's dream! All the biggies are here: Fox Racing Shox, Sram components, Shimano, Clif Bar, WTB, Campagnolo. If it can fit on a bike or a bike rider, or something having to do with bikes, you'll find it stuffed in the overwhelming maze of booths crammed inside the Sands Convention Center.

Thousands of bike fanatics will wander these floors for three days. Shop owners looking for the latest and greatest product to help them get an edge on the competition, industry insiders looking to keep up with the competition, bike journalists not wanting to get scooped by the competition are all here. The Bike Industry is in a state of Perfect Compeition, said bike industry analyst Jay Townley, a statistics guru who spoke to a packed house of retailers on Wednesday.

For the past eight years, the bike industry has not kept pace with the U.S. economy. Profits are not growing appreciably, and in the past 14 years, the number of bike riders has declined by 23 million participants, shrinking to an all-time low of 36 million people.

Nevertheless, enthusiasm for the sport seems high. At least inside the Sands. In addition to all the staple products—frames, derailleurs, wheels, brakes, suspended forks and rear shock absorbers—entire lines of periphery products are on display as if bicycling were some kind of growth industry.

At the Incredibell booth, the company displayed a huge and colorful line of products that can be mounted on the handlebars to announce the arrival of a bike. Some of these contraptions let out a pleasing tinkle when twisted or struck with a thumb, but for the more organic person, a wooden variety let loose with tone similar to a woodpecker drumming on the shingles outside of your house.

Like the patent medicine shows of old, one booth offered a product guaranteed to clear up road rash in seven to 10 days. The proprietor offered his arm as proof, pointing to a fading patch of barely reddened, hairless flesh.

People have come from all over the world to this affair. When I tried photograph some fine looking components spread out on a table, a harried Asian booth attendant scrambled over and pushed my camera aside.

“Please, no photograph,” she said.

I pointed to my press pass.

“Please, no photograph,” she said cheerily.

“You don’t want any publicity?” I asked.

“Please, no photograph,” she smiled.

Here I was at the biggest bicycle product demo in the nation and apparently I had stumbled upon the Forbidden Fruit.

"What the hey?" I muttered to myself, scratching my temple.

She positioned herself between me and the gear like a guard dog. Her smile was more disarming than a growl. I was tempted to find one of the Sopranos hanging out in the BMX section of the show and dispatch him with a camera just to see what would happen. The thought passed quickly when a new bike caught my eye.

The big buzz of the day was at the Pivot booth. The bike is Chris Cocalis’ newest offering, a four- or five-inch travel machine with a manufacturer’s suggested price tag ranging from $3,600 to $5,700. This ain’t your grandpappy’s Schwinn.

The Sands is awash in other offerings, but I’m not sure how much more I can take. The best thing about bikes is riding them, and I’ve got a serious two-day bike jones going on after being cooped up here in Sin City for the past couple of days.

Yeah, Interbike is full of really cool stuff to drool over, but in the end, when it all comes down to it, it ain’t about the bike anyway.

Unless you happen to look like Tony Soprano.