A ride through the streets of Laguna Beach today will turn up cruisers galore. There is a father out pedaling with his baby strapped in the little seat behind him, a paper boy hopping curbs and skidding across wet lawns like a motorcycle flat-tracker, a kid popping wheelies up the street, the paint job on his cruiser pure road art.
Meanwhile, back in Manhattan, cyclists ride to work daily, unaware of cruisermania. They're too busy dealing with carbon monoxide and wayward taxis and delivery trucks—not to mention backaches and butt aches, for most of them ride 10-speeds. But there is no better example of a place where a good cruiser would blow a 10-speed out of the water—on safety, given its handling and brakes, on comfort, and even speed, considering the conditions.
It all seems obvious to me: Cruisers are destined to take over the world. They make too much sense not to. But then Fat John Stroh probably could have told us that 25 years ago.