In the university town where I live, everyone under age 25 seems to be riding a single-speed, fixed-gear bike, usually with no brakes and a flat handlebar chopped so short that there's barely enough room to grip it.

Let's see: can't coast, can't stop, can't steer. Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad combination? (Although the idea of thinning the student population is enticing.)

Sure, I see the appeal of the fixie. It's simple and elegant, and you can make those cool stops by skidding the rear wheel. Add a shoulder bag, scraggly hair and a pierced eyebrow, and voila -- you, the outlaw bike messenger.

In fact, one winter long ago when I was in college, I converted my 10-speed into a fixie. I'd save my gears from slush and salt while polishing my spin on downhills and buffing my quads on uphills. I considered removing the brakes, but that icy patch outside the dorm convinced me otherwise. (Hey, I didn't get a C+ in Logic 101 for nothing.)

By the end of that winter I was a strong, supple rider. Too bad I had to take 2 months off to let my knees heal.

My next encounter with fixed-gear bikes came years later, on the velodrome. On the minus side, I nearly did an endo while trying to coast across the finish line. On the plus side, I once won a 3-man match sprint because I couldn't do a trackstand and my opponents were laughing too hard to chase me down.

But I digress. If the good Lord had wanted us to ride fixies on the road, He or She wouldn't have given us the modern derailleur.

Or was that Tullio Campagnolo?

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