Pen 15 Club: For Tim Donaghy: On Changing a Zebra -- OR -- When the Record Isn't Spotty Nor Checkered but Striped -- AND -- Hot Zebra F-301 VERSUS F-701 Comparison

Pen 15 Club: For Tim Donaghy: On Changing a Zebra
-- OR --
When the Record Isn't Spotty Nor Checkered but Striped
-- AND --
Hot Zebra F-301 VERSUS F-701 Comparison

"Sadness." -Tinzeroes, texting me when New York City's cobblestones juddered his freakbike's DNA fork beyond cohesion or repair.

One of the reasons I have enjoyed using my (second) Zebra F-301 pen is that it's (mostly) metal, and promises to last a long time and keep stuff out of the landfill. However, it's not entirely metal, it's only mostly metal, metal joined to plastic, and where metal and plastic join, there you find weakness, with the unyielding weight and strength of metal able to stress the lighter, brittler plastic.

One easy way to verify this weakness is to drop your F-301 on the streets of San Francisco while trying to promote democracy. If a person needed to re-verify, a solid option would be drop the pen onto the mighty concrete of the Berkeley Bowl's floor. First time, the results were ... shattering. This time, a subtler damage obtained.

(The F-301's obtuse angle.)

The bend isn't something that makes the pen not work. The stability and solidity of the unit are substantially lessened, however, and the way it creaks and shimmies under pressure of writing make it very difficult for me to enjoy using.

(The Zebra F-701.)

Luckily, I have options. I swiftly yoinked from my quiver a pen I've used only occasionally thus far, another Zebra model, the all-metal F-701. I bought it in a frenzy of anxious need a couple months back, along with some F-301 refills, and several—nearly multiple—instances of graph paper. I was very anxious that day. I haven't used the F-701 too much. It is very heavy. I think the ink might be the slightest bit different than the F-301 inserts, and the tip is listed as .8 mm, as opposed to the .7 mm of the F-301, and the writing seems a little smoother, lighter, waterier, and blobbier (at least in the notebook I'm currently using).

Fiddling with the F-701 initially, I discovered that F-301 refills seem to work in it, but F-701 refills do not seem to fit into an F-301. I also discovered that the spring in the F-701 is very stiff, and (thus) incredibly satisfying (to click). A weird fillip: post-click, when the tip is deployed into Writing Mode, there is apparently a secondary spring holding the plunger erect. The F-301, in Writing Mode, offers no (such) support to the plunger. I go back and forth on this. I'm not used to it, on the bad side (I do loathe change). It's quiet, when waving the pen around, and allows a second stage of fiddling—pushing the plunger down, but not enough to engage the tip-retraction mechanism—both of which are on the good side, indeed, on the side of good.

(Note the variance: tip out, plunger down vs. tip out, plunger up. Intriguing.)

The aforementioned ink issues aside, the F-701 isn't the easiest thing in the world to write with. It's heavy as all hell, and it's noticeably thicker than the F-301, which is a bit of an issue for my small hands and extraordinarily short fingers.

• F-701: 24 grams on the digital scale
• F-301: 11 grams on the digital scale

It may well be worth trading away lightness and overall ease of use for incredible durability—which I do expect a fully metal pen to embody—and just that much less waste. But if the use of, the writing with, will be slower, more awkward, more tiring, perhaps I should explore other channels of less waste.

Let's take a little break to listen to some great new French prog-metal.

I have two main tracks of writing by hand: work, and not-work. For work writing, please see the recent approach to writing less by hand and more by computer I pioneered in the following effort: Vim (for non-programmers) Section DCLXVI: Automating Making a To-Do List and Crossing Off Make a To-Do List on Your To-Do List Automatically. Work writing is usually notes, from a meeting or interview, or lists. Not-work writing, like, not to put to fine a point on it, this thing that I'm writing now, tends to be much more connected, and extended, which is to say that the writing tends to go on longer and have fewer breaks. This all means that a less wieldy pen, a heavier pen, is less desirable. And that all means...maybe I should investigate one last option for keeping my F-301 in my hand and out of the landfill.

You see, something you likely don't know about me, unless you're reading this, in which case you almost certainly do know me and thus know or can predict the following about me, is that I throw...little away. When my last F-301 died, I actually saved its busted guts, in case its parts might come in handy. I dug it out recently to see if I could kit-bash the situation together into something fitter, happier, more productive. It appears, though, unfortunately, that what I have here is two broken pens, with three pieces apiece, that share a broken piece.

(Two Donaghys, artist's rendering.)

It should maybe not surprise me that the critical flaw of the F-301 is a piece of plastic: a critical flaw of our civilization itself is dependence on plastic (and other petroleum products) and often can the part reveal and replicate the whole. But even if it's no surprise, it can still be a stone bummer, and indeed and in fact I am bummed, a little, that I can't cobble together one satisfactorily operational F-301 from two broken ones. I can, more or less, use the more recently and less severely damaged model, with...some psychic discomfort (and a likely physical failure impending, as my heavy hand imposes more pressure on the compromised plastic piece.

I find it difficult to disprove my assessment that what I should do is:

1. Use the F-701 at work, where its durability will be great and its drains on my stamina will be less of a problem
2. Deploy another new F-301 for my personal uses, hoping that if—when?—it fails, a different part will be the problem, and I can join fragments of three to make one, where I now can't make a broken two into a one entire

(Two Donaghys, documentary evidence.)

Or maybe I should learn to throw things away, when they're broken?

—Fat, pondering abandonment

Toward a Total Theory of the Messenger Bag: From the Specific to the Universal (The Timbuk2 Classic Messenger)

In late 2015 (!), I had tried and failed to follow a huge, somewhat clunky but infinitely endearing messenger bag, the Jandd Hurricane Iniki, with a sleeker, more stylish number, the Timbuk2 Especial Claro. The style didn't work, but the way the company stood behind the failure made me interested in another of their options, so I ended up with the Timbuk2 Classic Messenger, in Medium, all black.

(The most basic, and basic black, bag around: the Timbuk2 Classic Messenger in Medium.)

I used it daily for more than a year, before putting it into a rotation with the Defy Strapped, and later mixing in the Jannd Shana (link tk). (As I review these receipts, I'm shocked that it only had something like fifteen months of unchallenged No. 1 status.) It's a nearly ubiquitous bike-bag option: in the Bay Area, it's still nearly impossible to leave the house (when you can leave the house) and not see one across somebody's back. It is I think, utterly nondescript, in a way that I kind of enjoy. While it's not wildly appropriate for every office environment, I work in California, so its ubiquity and nondescriptness add up to it being more or less invisible.

A very well put together read on a similar bag by Timbuk2 is by David Pouge at the Strategist. While his is not mine, a couple points he makes seem to me to apply perfectly. As he says:

There’s no corner of Timbuk2 bags that hasn’t been nerdily, almost hilariously sweated over

bigger inside than they look outside

(lengthy, detailed breakdown of his version's pockets, which are different than mine, so not relevant, though still fascinating)

Almost everything about this bag is just ... correct. If you have used any other bag, and thought about it, this bag will impress you as having made the right decision in almost every particular. (NOTE: according to some recent reviews, a lot of the things I will praise may have been phased out, so emptor your caveats and all that.)

Materials

(Cordura on the outside, TPU [whatever that is] on the inside.)

Materials are nearly perfect. The outside is the extremely standard Cordura, but a small, tight weave that holds up beautifully to knocks and dings, avoids snags, and doesn't seem to chafe wool or other materials unduly. The inside pockets are on a fabric panel that's made from a nice, light-colored (grey) smooth "packcloth" I guess they call it that isn't hard to wipe clean and is hard to stain, both of which, in my life, are great. There's also a "TPU" liner which helps keep things waterproof, and is even more wipeable. And only after five years has the TPU started to crack at all.

(Minor cracking of the lining after 5ish years.)

Straps

Not a ton to say here. Shoulder strap: you never notice it. This is good! If you notice a shoulder strap, it's probably because it's binding or chafing or pinching or something, or too slick so the bag slides around too much (like the Defy strap), or made from a wide enough weave to get torn up by the available velcro, like the new Jandd strap. This shoulder strap has none of those problems. It's just there, it's got a little pad on it that keeps pain from happening, it all just works.

There's a quick-adjust flappity that I'm less impressed with, as I routinely thwacked it out of place while under load, which causes the bag to hurtle to the end of the strap length, before jolting harshly, which: unpleasant. Only thing you can do is try to avoid thwacking / flicking. Probably good advice in general, and I honor this bag for teaching me a profound lesson.

The cross-body strap isn't as great: it doesn't easily stow out of the way when you're not using it. When you disconnect it, it's going to bang around your knees, which nothing on a shoulder bag should ever do. I bought a small retaining clip from Jandd, which helps when it works, which is some but not enough of the time. I don't know what would be better. Magnets, maybe? Seems like magnets might help.

There's also a strap that's sewn to the bag with a clip on the end to use as a key fob. People seem to like it. I have never used it, as my paranoia does not allow me to be happy with the idea of keys I own being in something that might not be touching my body at all times.

The straps connecting the main flap to the body of the bag are correct in two ways: the buckles are on the inside of the flap, which looks better and is no less usable than when they're on the outside; the body straps run all the way under the floor of the bag, allowing compression, and enabling stuffing something between the straps and the outside of the bag. (This is one thing I miss a lot when I'm using my Rickshaw Sutro Messenger.)

There's a grab handle, which is also correct. It's very simple, just a flat strap across the top of the bag, but it's usable and essentially invisible, which makes it nearly perfect. Since I tend to carry too much, I routinely worry that the velcro will fail to keep the whole thing together, but I don't think the hook/loop magic has ever actually failed me.

Pockets

Essentially perfect. It is deeply annoying to me that no bag reviews ever give enough detail on the pockets, as a bag just is a pocket, so pockets in pockets are obviously of grave importance. Gravest.

There's a laptop pocket across the back. It's padded on the bag side, but not on the wall side. It fits even my ridiculously large laptop (barely, with some stuffing / shoving and visible stress placed on the fabric), which is rad; a minor scourge of the bag design world is the sense bag designers seem to have that the only laptops that exist are Macs.

There's two water bottle holders. One mesh, one smooth. Both fit a small / 16 oz. type Nalgene bottle fine, but not the standard / 32 oz. size. These are pretty helpful, if only because verticality is a nice thing to impose on a liquid-carrier (and because it's nice to not have your bottle go sideways and start poking you in the back).

And then there's the front wall, a dense city block of pockets. Across the inside front wall: wide pocket; narrow pocket; narrow pocket; wide pocket. The wide pockets are wide and deep enough to hold a hard-sided glasses case (a necessity for me), or two iPhone 6s or similar mid-sized phones. Most bags don't bother to have something that comfortably fits a glasses case, and most bags suck for that reason. The narrow pockets hold two sharpies. Probably could fit three narrower pens, but that would be fussy and insane. Who would do that?

(Detail on the inside pockets under load.)

Behind the front wall, a zippered pocket that doesn't quite run the width of the wall, nor quite to the bottom of the front wall. I believe it should. But it's still a super good place to keep a backup handkerchief, maybe a smaller / thinner notebook. It's not quite deep enough for a typical Moleskine, nor tall / wide enough for my big Baron Fig notebook. But a memory card, a lighter, tampons, or whatever, it's all real good for this pocket.

On the outside of the front wall, a zippered patch pocket (with that little key fob) riding a top-loader. These pockets are bracketed by two vertical strips of the hook side of the hook-and-loop fabric. It's a great way to minimize the amount of this destructive material, but it's still exactly and precisely where a man's sleeve will go most often, thereby getting snagged. The top-loader could stand some pen slots, probably, but I never lost any sleep over it. These two are separated by just a little bit of packcloth, which finally got a bit shredded by the pointy types of cargo I tend to carry here (knives, jacks, throwing stars, etc.). Behind these is my favorite name for a pocket ever: the Napoleon pocket, a side-loader that runs wider than the two square pockets and is a perfect fit for a small tablet (7" say).

(Outside front pockets detail with Napoleon pocket.)

(You knew I was going to show you the damage done by the hook side of hook-and-loop fasteners: check out that fraying! That minor fraying after five years of use.)

Size

This bag has a nominal capacity of 21 liters (1,282 in³). This isn't huge, and the bag certainly doesn't look terribly large, but it always feels as though you can hold Just One More Thing (the bag version of moreishness).

I think it's the depth of the bag that really does this: it's listed as 18.1 inches wide (top, 14.6 inches wide at bottom) which are nothing particularly large, but the 7.09 inches of depth allow a LOT of frank stuffage. Check out the image: that's a bag with four tallboys, a laptop, a coffee mug and a water bottle in it and the bag looks essentially empty. Incredible.

(A bag with a lot in it that doesn't look like it's got a lot in it.)

Historical note on size: After the Jandd, it was very difficult for me to adjust to anything under two-cinder-block carrying capacity. I destroyed the Especial Claro by being unable to pivot to a different strategy. When I traded the Claro for this Classic, still in the shadow of the Jandd Iniki, it wasn't immediately obvious to me that that the Classic was big enough. Since 2015, though, I have tried out the Defy Strapped (nominal capacity unavailable), the Jandd Shana (nominal capacity 1,338 in³ / 22 liters [but I absolutely don't believe this, details tk]), and the Rickshaw Sutro (nominal capacity 905 in³ ~15 liters), and without seeming bulkier than any of these, it just carries more than any of them.

Carrying

Times have changed since I first started thinking about this stuff. Amangst other things, I changed jobs, and my new job (smashing capitalism) required me to buy a car (there are some contradictions)—see here my recent obsession with grab handles—so I don't always remember to stress out about how it goes to stuff in / yoink free a U-lock or two from a stuffed messenger bag, but two features of this bag make those tasks more reasonable: the main compartment is big and deep not small nor shallow, and there's a layer of foam running across the laptop pocket. This foam helps avoid the ol' U-lock kidney strike-&-massage, which is a good thing. I have noticed that it's pretty common to scrape out the pens from the inside wall when pulling out a lock, which is annoying. Mostly it all works real well! All that said, at this point, when I need to carry my locks, I mostly just hang the locks off the shoulder strap.

Punchline

Two thousand words later, on this one bag, this bag that's the most generic thing out there anywhere, after thousands of other words on the specifics of my totally individual needs ... I discover that what works best for me, is the thing that works best for everybody.

David Pogue (and Timbuk2's own marketing copy) is correct: the Classic Messenger is basically a perfected object, with years of lessons incorporated and snags smoothed out. If you can get the one I got, and the reviews on the site right now suggest you may no longer be able to, it's difficult to imagine you wouldn't be happy with it.

(Detail on the inside pockets without load and zipper pocket open.)

Previous entries in the total theory of messenger bags megathread:

• Volume 1: Jandd Hurricane Iniki Messenger Bag
• Volume 2: Timbuk2 Especial Claro
• Volume 3: The Israeli Paratrooper Bag
• Volume 4: Defy Strapped

Pen 15 Club: I Bought Some New Pens :)

(This afternoon's haul: couple more of those neato Sharpie®\Pen. ones, a new Flair pen in an appealing and appropriate color, and a new clicky ballpoint option, a pack of Zebra F 301 units.)

Don't know necessarily if I need to talk about the replenishments, new versions of old faces, but I was inspired by old Twitter running (and funning) mate @mighty_flynn to revisit an old style I hadn't had my hands on in a long while: a retractable ballpoint.

Bic Clic is the only pen for me. Black ink ball point. @FieldNotesBrand #restocked https://t.co/lv7D6z7D44 pic.twitter.com/O2fu7GpZdJ

— It’s a long season. (@mighty_flynn) March 7, 2019

The appeal is pretty immediately obvious: the fidget potential and ability to make annoying noises of the G-2 plus the versatility and rock-like reliability of the Bic Crystal? Can you even imagine how good a pen that would be. Can you even imagine.

(Although...if I'd seen this back-of-package image, I would not have bought these obviously cursed and sinful objects.)

Good gravy what is with this pervert zebra, Zebra?? That's a yikes and a third, maybe a full yikes and a half.

More later, once I've had the opportunity to wrap my fingers around these new Pen 15es, rub 'em around, see what comes out of the tip.

NOTE: title / format drawn from this all-time great tweet.

Dalí: Surrealism is DESTRUCTIVE, but it DESTROYS only what it considers to be SHACKLES limiting our VISION.
Varo: I'm envisioning some cats right now :)
Dalí: That's not what I meant.
Varo: They have their own little castle and everything :) :) :) pic.twitter.com/n1gpv0gLDT

— Spoinky McPhee (@LHippopotamelan) August 15, 2018

PEN 15 Club 2: more on the Sharpie(r)|Pen., questions posed and answered

Well, I knew this would happen. When you say something as controversial as I did yesterday—"the Sharpie®|Pen. implement is pretty okay for writing things with" was merely the felt tip of my offensive offensive—you're going to have to expect pushback. And pushback I have from Pen Internet and elsewhere received.

Occasional contributor and life partner Pierre Idiot Trudeau, perhaps predictably, mounted the fiercest assault on my position.

I'm confused as to how these Sharpie Pens are different from the Sharpie fine and Ultra Fine markers. Is there a ball or different ink release system? I know that you've used those others I've mentioned, so I'm curious as to what makes it different/more pleasing.

Later, a pervert calling him-or-herself "Unknown"* continued the savage pile-on.

*Likely fucking story, friendo.

I have a bunch of conflicting emotions about pens. My trusty Micron is great for small missives, but if I truly want to make a statement I have a Sharpie in a holster. I tried the double tip dueling fine point/regular Sharpie, but hardly used the fine point. Turns out, I only use the Sharpie for making signs or responding to analog social media. There are a number of other instruments in my pen-theon which I will leave until another entry on which to elaborate.

"Pen-theon" is pretty good, though, so kudos for that. To address these wild accusations: I did not explicitly compare the Sharpie®|Pen. to the more common Sharpie "permanent" marker, for two reasons. First, I am a MarksALot man**, and brand loyalties are important***. Second, I mostly write on paper, and people who use Sharpie markers to write on paper make me uncomfortable (nervous, irritable). I have tried this, under the occasional influence of one disreputable brute or another, from time to time, and the overwhelming experience is one of bleed-through, of paper more ruined by ink than (ad-)dressed by it. The hand feel of a Sharpie marker is also completely vile: chub-stubby and slick—no, thank you!!

**No, I'm not.
***No, they aren't.

Recently I uncovered a smallish cache of the small-tip Sharpie markers, and attempted to deploy them to label presents. Stolen from work a job ago, they had all gone dry, nestled patiently in my art silo. The metaphor is, of course, clear.

The tip question posed by Pierre Idiot Trudeau is easy enough to answer. The Sharpie®|Pen. boasts a standard protrusive cylinder felt-tip, no ball to be found, basically the same format as the Micron art pen. The Sharpie marker, of the small-tipped variety, does, I believe, incorporate a ball encased by a plastic cone (among its other failings)****, whereas the more common "fine point" marker is a thick, slab-like cone of felt.

(Note here the tip propaganda of the manufacturer, included so that we may better understand not what to think, but what we are wanted to think, by those who are not our friends.)

****I can't verify this, because I took all the ones I had and threw them in the fucking garbage, where I assume they remain, sucking shit. I took a long look at Sharpie dot com, and could not find the sort of pen I am remembering. After additional research, I have come to believe that I may have been remembering not a Sharpie, but an Expo Vis-à-Vis dry erase marker of some sort, or a Sharpie equivalent. I fail to see how this minor error in identifying the tool I was using could in any way invalidate anything I have said about the experience of using the tool. :(

(I don't even like looking at these hateful objects.)

Perhaps more important than the tip is what comes out of it. Standard Sharpie marker ink is, as I have hinted, not my favorite thing to apply to paper (except for wrapping paper, a task that comes up not very frequently, as I am an ingenerous clod), but the Sharpie®|Pen. issues forth something that, as the container indicates, "won't bleed through paper", which is cool. Using science, I have determined that the Sharpie marker and Sharpie®|Pen. do in fact have different inks: as the image below indicates, Sharpie markers can write on glass, whereas the Sharpie®|Pen. cannot, to its credit.

(Science!)

So. To recap, always a good thing to do with your pen:

• Tip differences: Sharpie®|Pen., a pleasing cylinder of felt jutting from a metal tube, like a tiny Chrysler building; Sharpie marker, a galumphing, turgid pile
• Ink differences: Sharpie®|Pen., a kind, gentle fluid optimized for gracing, indeed grazing, paper, whence good adults write; Sharpie marker, a harsh substance perfect for those who wish to "make their mark" on arbitrary surfaces (childishly)

Of course, Pierre Idiot nor his campaign were finished.

I have specific pen/marker/highlighter needs/opinions based mostly around the paper that's getting written on. I petitioned my boss - unsuccessfully - to allow us to buy the one step up paper that we used to buy because it "feels better to write on". This was met mostly with eyerolls, but a bit of sympathy from the very same people.

Indeed! Sadly under-recognized, except by the attractive geniuses who read this post, is the vast truth that: The Paper ... Makes the Pen. The barrel matters regardless of surface, but the pen's contents and tip are wildly at the mercy of whatever you're planning to rub them on! This is one reason an ultimate pen, much like an ultimate morality, can likely never be discovered. As for your boss, I recommend collective action and concerted activity. Be unwavering in your demands, unstinting in your efforts, and unquenched in your desire for total victory (read: slightly better office supplies). You might try framing it as a workplace safety issue, if you can. "Paper cuts are causing paper cuts" is a slogan I can hardly imagine meeting with anything but immediate boss capitulation.

Now, if you want to talk highlighters, this here is the gold standard. Smear Guard ®

I didn't, but thanks for the input.

That bit about "childishly" was a joke.

PEN 15 CLUB

Took a quick look at the last time I talked about pens, my mind aglow with whirling, transient nodes of thought careening through a cosmic vapor of invention, and had a discomfiting, disconnected moment. I could scarcely recognize the child I was, tho' the child ever is father to the man, nor credit the opinions he expressed.

Particularly alien I found the conclusion, in which 2017 Fat plumped for reaching in the main for the Pilot (Precise) V5. This bears essentially no relation to current practice, preference, or predilection. The (r)evolution has I think more to do with what I'm writing on than what I'm writing with.

(I found this pen in the bag of scissors / tape / pens / etc. I maintain for Xmas-present-wrapping operations. Man, I sure chewed on this one a lot.)

I've been working, with a kind of dogged, halting persistence, to refine my notebook approach, spurred by conditions both material (I have roughly a dozen Field Notes notebooks on hand) and ideological (I love those Field Notes notebooks, and the uniformity of writing things in identical containers drives a certain urge towards tweaking my approach to their filling, until I feel optimized, plus I have watched more than one video about bullet journaling). Details on all that to come. But with a striving towards consistency and perfection must come a desire for sameness—in this case, yoked to an/the ever-present lust for novelty, viz., I saw a new-to-me kind of pen when I was in a stressful situation and (therefore) in need of easeful consumption—and thus came into my life the stirring adequacy of the spartanly named Sharpie®|Pen., whose chubby, softish barrel is bleh at best, but inoffensive, and whose tip and ink please nigh-invariably.

(You may be able to see that the tip is slightly bent, because I dropped it point-down onto a hard floor, almost immediately after starting to use it. This is vaguely reminiscent of using a pencil, and I kind of like it.)

Not as stable a platform as the light carbine of the Le Pen nor the fully functional Batmobile of the Micron ~Art Pen~, it hits much the same marks, but with waterproof ink and a less intimidating mien. I tried to use it exclusively in my most recent notebook, and except for the day I forgot it at work and had to press back into service one of my absolute favorite (green) Le Pens, I succeeded. Pleasing consistency!

That notebook (was) finished last night; the next follows. After a painstaking review of my Pen Situation and my Evolving Habits, I have decided to retire the Sharpie®|Pen. for the duration of that notebook (48 pages, usually around as many days), for reasons I will describe just as soon as they are clear to me.

(These are fine-tipped, 0.8 mm. I wonder what the Ultra Fine experience is like??)

More Notes on the Total Theory of the Messenger Bag: Defy Marketing (The Defy Strapped)

Sometimes, I am a complete sucker. This is the story of one of those times.

(The Defy Strapped, sejant.)

As should be clear, I do like to shop. And a man's craving for novelty can be real, and confounding. Thus it was that late in 2016, I took occasional respite from ... life, by browsing endless for that great passion of mine, the new messenger bag. Somewhere in there, a company called Defy arrived and began issuing pronouncements which intrigued:

• Materials matter: we have an intriguing sourcing model and are using elements others aren't, from recycled bike innertubes for trim, to truck tarp for the bag body, and to seat-belt webbing for strapping and pocketing
• Local, local, local: handmade in America (Chicago)
• Design is king: let's use our neat materials in novel ways
• It's expensive as all hell: so it must be good!

I should have understood what I was looking at. The company story—because isn't that what we're all interested in? the stories ... of companies?—was and is explicit: "I'm a marketer who has moved into making things." SPOILER: what the company is good at making is in fact marketing collateral; their bags are not great. Or at least the bag I bought is not great.

The main problem is the material. Defy—and other companies—are, reasonably enough, bored with the same old Cordura fabric that essentially every company uses to make messenger bags. To differentiate themselves, they try new stuff. Defy thought to try something they call "M35 Military Truck Tarpaulin Material". Here's what they say about it:

M35 Military truck tarpaulin vinyl/canvas is the same heavy duty tarpaulin used to protect US servicemembers in theater today. It's thick, matte, rubbery feel makes for an incredibly durable bag material which with use over time starts to soften & wear nicely taking on a different patina and character. While it's tougher than the vast majority of tarp material used by other bag companies with enough beating, use and life it can eventually show signs of wear. Those wear marks are a badge of honor! It's military tough as hell for sure, but nothing's indestructible even though it may look it!

If you don't want the material to crack and fray, don't, uh ... buy this bag.

The truth of course, is that the thick, matte, rubbery feel is extremely cool fresh out of the box. About a week later, the outside feels like plastic. (The inside still feels pretty cool.) "After enough abuse it will start to show wear" means that instantly the material will start to crease, and the bag's own hardware will immediately mar the fabric and leave visible scars. Anywhere the bag folds regularly will split and tear. In short, the material isn't strong enough to stand up to itself, much less significant "beating, use and life". To call it "incredibly durable" is at best puffery, at worst a lie. I had scarred it badly within five days of receiving it: it arrived on January 12; on January 17, I pinched the flap between the bottom of a seat at a movie theater and a bottle of wine I'd smuggled into the theater. Smuggling a bottle of wine into a movie theater is, to me, is basically the definition of "normal use", and five days of "normal use" should not permanently mark a bag. Using this material defies convention, to be sure, but no less does it defy usability.

Another major miss is the buckles. Defy is nutty for buckles. Their marketing consists mainly of impassioned praise of these crazy buckles they buy from Austria: supposedly they can hold 1,500 pounds or something, but, when the fabric they're sewn to couldn't possibly hold half of that, who gives a damn? And why would a person want to close their messenger bag that hard anyway? Anyway, all their bags feature these buckles, except for one, the one I bought, which is called the Strapped. First, it's Strapped because it heavily features seat-belt straps, as the shoulder strap, as reinforcing strapping, and as the business-card-and-pen holder. Second, it's for people who strapped for cash, because it's the same form factor as the more expensive Recon bag, but replaces the ridiculous buckles with buckles that are cheaper ... but still ridiculous.

(When the buckles are big.)

See, there is simply no reason to use two two-inch buckles to close a bike bag flap. It looks cool, but is pointless overkill. And, since they're simply difficult to use one-handed, they're less functional than they should be. The whole point of a messenger bag is easy access to the contents, balanced with being able to secure them quickly. This bag fails on both counts. On material and hardware, Defy allows visual appeal to outrank functionality.

This trend—good visuals, poor use—continues when we examine the pocketing and storage options. The slash pocket across the back of the bag does fit a slim laptop: my work Mac fits there, I think my old work Windows machine did as well, but my beautiful boat anchor from Zareason decidedly does NOT fit. (That most bags are designed for the smallest laptops on the market is a sad fact.)

I'm not the best writer, editor, or management stooge. But I AM a man with a very, very large laptop. pic.twitter.com/WHA8rZO4RK

— Chris Collision (@cfCollision) March 14, 2015

The front pocket is okay. It's quite tall, though very shallow. A quick-access pocket like this is always going to have more of my stuff in it than is reasonable, so I can't blame it too much for not being thick enough, but it's worth noting that my glasses case alone is basically enough to make it bulge. (If I had one message to all bag makers, it would be: always include one pocket that fits a glasses case; there are people with prescriptions in this world, after all. My first Jandd had this, as did one of my Timbuk2 bags, and for my needs, this is, essentially, essential.) It's probably too flat/shallow, if I'm being fully critical, and arguably too tall, because small things are inevitably at the very bottom, under my glasses and earbuds, so it's tough to get my chapstick or whatever. But whatever, it's fine. It's fine.

(If the pockets you make are too short for a pocket notebook, the pockets you make are too short.)

The internal pockets, riding on the front of the back slash pocket, are a different story. It's not clear to me why they are the size they are. I.e., what the hell is supposed to go in them? They're too shallow for the Mac power brick they're a half-good fit for, and they're too short for a tablet or even a small-sized pocket notebook. What's up with these? In the event, I stuff them full, with my knife, my brush and comb, my little notebooks, and other crap I need to find more or less quickly. They're bulgy and everything in them scruffs out over the top unappealingly, but they're there, anyway, and you can (sort of) put (some) things in them.

The main compartment is intriguing, in that it is simultaneously too big (it's incredibly tall and quite wide, call it 13.5" tall and 15+" wide at the bottom, wider at the top) and too small (it's preposterously thin, something like 5.5" when it's sitting, thinner when lifted/carried). The general experience of using it involves the top 3 or 4 inches being filled with air, and whatever you want to pull out of it being underneath something else and difficult to get. This bag is wildly not meant to be used like an actual messenger bag—swung off the back to the front, the flexible flap pushed easily aside, the cargo quickly in hand and the bag just as quickly flapped closed and pushed back out of the way—the flap is too stiff, and the bag doesn't yield its treasures without some wrangling, because its top is narrow and a good couple inches higher than it needs to be. For office use, its obvious intended function, though, it's basically okay.

Keen-eyed observers will have noted that none of the pockets close in any way (except the main compartment), which is a sop to two purported failure points or annoyances: first, zippers are held to be fragile; second, velcro hook and loop fastener is held to be annoying. These are both more or less true. Things have slipped out of the internal patch pockets, probably because they're too short, but I don't think anything fell completely out of the bag at any point, and the absence of fasteners is something I came to find quite appealing.

Overall storage is not great. With most bags, you're buying a system as much as a bag, and here, there's just not much in the way of a system: no way to mount other carrying options, nor anything interesting in the way of internal bags to add. To organize my belongings, I ended up using a congeries of Jandd ditty bags and a few options Noodles, TWBGITW, has sewed together for me over the years. And since the Strapped's effective carrying capacity is so small, I started carrying a second bag for my lunch and leaving my dopp kit and spare clothes in the car, instead of being able to carry them with me. Probably good for my discipline, in that it helps teach me not to overpack, but inconvenient nonetheless.

Riding the front of the bag are my favorite features by far. By sewing a length of seat-belt strap to the wall, they are able to make a business card holder and three pen slots. The pen slots need a thicker pen, and one with a clip: my Le Pen (pictured) has been knocked through and gone missing several times, but it's just such a cool way to make a pen slot, I can't stay mad at the bag. Similarly cool is that little business card holder. The D-ring and the snap ring are also excellent, and that they're attached with scraps of recycled innertube is functional, thrifty, and unique. Across the front of the bag, in other words, is Defy at its absolute best: interesting materials used in unusual ways to good effect. If everything about the bag were designed and made this well, this would be the best bag on the market. Or anyway, would be a much better bag than it is.

The inner color, and this must be mentioned, is actually beautiful. My second-favorite feature most days (and my favorite, on the days the pen holder fails to hold my Le Pen). Sadly, this green material is even softer than the outside fabric, and can be scuffed or scarred even more easily. The bag's own hardware scratches it, and a USB stick plugged into a laptop did the same.

The shoulder strap is okay. It's wide and comfortable, but not grippy. When thrown over a shoulder, instead of cross-body, it's constantly causing worry that it's going to slip off. There is a grab handle. This seems like a small thing, but it's as easy to put one on as it is to leave one off, and the incremental convenience it adds, when compared to the cost/benefit of not having one, makes it a practical necessity.

In a very frustrating move, if you want to ride a bike with this bag, you're going to have to buy an extra strap, which is going to add something like 25% to the cost of the bag. This hidden cost is a really annoying way to do business.

Costs in general seem a little high, compared to the value received. While the bag does come in a lovely bespoke cardboard box sealed with Defy-branded tape, this isn't something that helps me fit my laptop, nor does it take the edge off the experience of watching the fabric disintegrate under normal use.

In the end, it's a decent bag sold as an outstanding one. If you saw it in the store, you might find it appealing and want to take it home. Its design is essentially identical to the Israeli Paratrooper bag (main compartment, slash pocket behind it, pouch pocket riding the front with mad pen slots, not much else), which presents a blend of more or less adequacy and more or less elegance. It does have a terrific look, and if it hadn't been so relentlessly oversold by Defy's marketing collateral, it might be an easy bag to love. But it was relentlessly oversold, so my experience with it was mostly a disappointing one. Failures of design—poor materials choice, pocketing decisions made according to appearance rather than function, ill-conceived hardware—overwhelm the Strapped's virtues, and that these failures so closely correspond to what the company claims as its strengths leaves the buyer feeling betrayed, or even cheated.

It's worth noting that Defy may have independently come to similar conclusions as mine: the Strapped is no longer available on the Defy site; the tarp material doesn't seem to figure as centrally in their messaging; the new version of the bag is less tall, and deeper. These are all positive moves. One hopes that their evolution continues to blend functional considerations into the mix that produced a Strapped that was overwhelmingly concerned with appearance.

Previous entries in the total theory of messenger bags megathread:

• Volume 1: Jandd Hurricane Iniki Messenger Bag
• Volume 2: Timbuk2 Especial Claro
• Volume 3: The Israeli Paratrooper Bag

Previous entries in being a complete sucker:

• The U-Turn Audio Turntable Debacle

Toward a Total Theory of the Messenger Bag: Volume 3, the Israeli Paratrooper Bag

Years ago—12 or more—I had many special needs. I rode my bike everywhere, with a 12-mile round trip to work, regardless of Portland weather, and I didn't spend a lot of time at home outside of sleeping and (rarely) bathing. This all meant: I needed to carry layers, for rain, for stench and a hat to keep the sun out of my eyes and rain off of my glasses; I needed to carry entertainment (reading material [Moorcock paperback?], music, my beloved pink handheld, maybe a DS, one or another notebook); I needed to carry bike locks; I needed enough storage space to pick up a sudden Gundam or Stikfa, or wedge in a thrifted Dreamcast; I needed somewhere to tuck my travel mug; at the end of my idiot nights, I often needed a six-pack of tallboys and a Totino's party pizza.

I had two bags at that point. One, my college LL Bean Turbo Transit backpack, big enough that I once lived out of it, travelling, for six weeks, magnificently ugly, but not strong against rain, and not convenient for getting into / out of without taking it off. Two, an early model Timbuk2 messenger bag, modified by its previous owner to use a length of seat belt material as its strap—a bag I adored, but found too big for some summer nights.

Thus it was that Tinzeroes and I betook ourselves to the local surplus store, where I first encountered an item listed as an "Israeli Paratrooper Bag". My first reaction: "Wow, evidently Israel's paratroopers need to do a lot of paperwork, because this bag is like 80% pen slots." My second reaction: "I really like this bag's look, feel, size."

Besotted with notions of kit-bashing and customization, and at a surplus store, I bought a couple strips of hook and loop fastener, a big buckle, and a length of wide, thick strapping. Once home, I grabbed a case of dental floss, my sewing kit, my pocket knife, and an X-acto blade from my model-building set.

I added the hook and loop to close the bag's flap more easily, and replaced the shoulder strap, sewing in as much strength as I could with floss. I added an attachment loop for a blinky bike light, and heat-sealed the straps where I'd cut them with my pocket knife, held over the stove's burner. The X-acto knife cut out one of the two main compartment's dividers, freeing up space and lightening the bag a bit (but I think it was mostly just doing something for the sake of doping something).

Even for summer use, it was never quite big enough. With anything at all in it, it was a little too full for much more than a six-pack, and even the most wadded-up hoody would more or less fill it. And since I hadn't tested where to put the velcro, if the bag was too full, I couldn't close it. Rainy season ruled the bag out entirely for outdoor use: the thick canvas wasn't waterproof, or even really colorfast.

But I loved it. The experience of customizing it had only taken an evening, but had bonded me to it as securely as the shoulder strap was bonded to the bag's side wall.

The size was too small (14" wide, 11" tall, main compartment 4" deep), but every force that constrains my overpacking is welcome. The material wasn't waterproof, but it didn't promote gross back sweat as badly as a plastic bag on longer summer rides. Plus, the canvas was strong without being stiff or rough, meaning that it didn't tear up things it came into contact with (sweaters, for example) or wear through where it creased, with the exception of this one spot, after substantially longer than a decade.

The organization options weren't incredibly robust, but the flat pocket at the back wall was always a good spot for a U-lock, and the front pouch pocket always seemed to accommodate more than I'd expect. And a big empty main compartment is a must no matter what your needs are.

I still have the bag! I throw it in a larger bag sometimes if I'm flying somewhere I expect to be walking around a lot. It's also good for those late-night "need beer" rides. Most of my special needs from circa 2004 are no longer, but a good bag is a good bag. This is a good bag.

Previous entries:

• Volume 1: Jandd Hurricane Iniki
• Volume 2: Timbuk2 Especial Claro

Timbuk2 Especial Claro Review: Not for Me, but Great Customer Service Wins the Day

A while back, I covered my abiding respect and affection for my Jandd Hurricane messenger bag. It was and is the stoutest and most robust bag I've owned—but it was really starting to show the wear that comes with age, and it came time to find a replacement daily driver. This is not that story.

This story lives somewhere between the story of the Jandd—a story about an adequately designed and beautifully built object—and the story of the U-Turn Audio—a story about a maybe-adequate object betrayed by abysmal customer service. This story is about the Timbuk2 Especial Claro.

Going out into the world for a new bag was thrilling and stressful. I love that kind of shopping: zooming in to check pocket details; stroking my chin over fabric types; trying to parse "weather resistant" vs. "waterproof"; squinting at different volumes and weights. But it's stressful, because I haven't been on the market for a really long time. "Ich kenne mich nicht aus", as Wittgenstein said, when he was looking to buy a new bike bag. So I spent untold hours on the internet, and more than a few hours boring the bejeezus out of Noodles talking about bags. I checked every site I could find—bag sites, review sites, shopping sites, everything. I pestered my friends with late-night texes about their bag and life choices. I stared at every person carrying a bag within eyeshot, judging, assessing, creeping the fuck out (probably).

Eventually, the planets aligned and I realized something incredibly important: I have insane numbers of coupons for ten wing-wangs off at LL Bean and those coupons stack. This means I could throw coupons at a purchase until I ran out of coupons or until the remaining charge was less than ten wing-wangs! Also? I get free shipping from Bean, because I am secretly an important man.

Let's take a secretly an important man break!

What all this meant was that I could burn a bunch of coupons and get a new bike bag for nine wing-wangs. Also the copy around it said specifically that it's for Serious Cyclists—and who's more serious a cyclist than me!? Nobody, that's who.

And that is how the Especial Claro entered my life. It was so cool looking! A little too stylish for me, probably, but I really enjoyed wearing it, carrying it, fiddling with it, looking at it, talking about it...I kind of felt like an early William Gibson character. (The "hammered carbon" look feels like a very specific alternate future I wish I inhabited sometimes.) But all was not well in this romance for the ages. Enter: writing letter to Timbuk2's customer support team.

I recently bought (and came to really like) a Medium Especial Claro. I really liked how light it was, and I appreciated its minimal approach to organizational features and pockets -- I tend to packrat a LOT of stuff, so the more pockets I have at my disposal, the more I carry with me everywhere, which isn't actually helpful. Plus I really liked its style: I'm an office drone, and the bag matched that vibe, but with a little flair / style that made me feel like I wasn't JUST an office drone.

But after less than two weeks, the seams under the shoulder strap have started to tear loose. I never carried any kind of load I consider out of line for a messenger bag -- I'd guess a 12-pack of Tecate + a couple bottles of fizzy water and a U-Lock would have been the heaviest load. I commute exclusively by bike, and ride everywhere I go, and I've been using a giant Jandd bag for years, and that kind of load would normally go on top of my everyday carry without any problems. (I had to take everything out to make that load fit the Claro, and it was a pretty tight fit.)

So my question is this: Is the Classic Messenger a better choice for me? I.e., will it allow me to carry the stuff I tend to carry on a daily basis without structural failure?
OR
Should I just go for another Claro and adapt my habits to the bag rather than assuming the bag will adapt to whatever I throw at (or in) it? (This would be the case if the Classic Messenger had about the same carrying capacity and build quality -- because if those things are equal, I much prefer the style and waterproofness of the Claro.) Thanks! Sorry for the novel's worth of backstory and detail, but as somebody who really does live on his bike, I have...well, I have special needs.

They got back to me v. quickly.

Hey [Fat],

Thank you for contacting Timbuk2.

Sorry to hear that your bag wasn't working like it should, can you shoot over an image of the issue so we can take a look?

In regards to your product question, the Classic Messenger Bag will do the trick. A lot of the colorways are made from Cordura Nylon and that is a top of the line Cordura that offers lightness and water protection!

If you grab a medium you will be able to easily fit a 12 pack, fizzee water, and U Lock...I speak from experience.

It will also be able to hold the same amount of weight, if not, more.

It is more likely to get water inside the main bucket if your bag is over stuffed, but the fold over flap on this bag also has water wings so water is less likely to dribble in.

Just let us know if there's anything else I can help with or answer,

Your pals @ Timbuk2
Customer Service

This is pretty much exactly what I wanted to hear.

This is totally helpful -- thank you VERY much! I definitely appreciate it. You should tell your boss that this was exactly the response I was hoping for, too! I'll go back to the store where I picked this up and swop out the Claro for the Classic...

I've attached a couple images of the fraying (both sides). Hope they help! The quarter was just for scale.

The story is pretty much over, but one line from their next email really made me laugh, so I'm including it here.

Hey [Fat],

Thanks for shooting over those images. That's definitely odd and not the type of quality that Timbuk2 is known for. Your Claro should have held up a lot better. I'm going to make sure our product design team gets these photos.

If for some reason the store cannot help with the swap, please let us know. We want to make sure you get the best bag that will meet your needs and let you enjoy your Tecate without any worries.

Cheers!

I like a company that demonstrates attention to detail at every step: from educating me about fabrics (never buy anything that's not Cordura: noted!) to keeping an eye on what I like to drink (Tecate and fizzy water, mainly). I like a company that takes Tecate as seriously as I do, as seriously as Kowloon Walled City takes Tecate—and tone. I like Timbuk2. I sent the Especial Claro back and have been using the Classic Messenger for a couple weeks. It's a good solution for me. But that's a story for a different time.

U-Turn Audio makes a terrible product and has terrible customer service

Last year around this time, I started to feel a major bite: I no longer had a working turntable, and that's not how I like to spin roll. I looked around a little bit, asked some friends, and decided to try the U-Turn Orbit. Big mistake.

The first day I had it, I sent the following email to my pals:

I took a flyer on a hipster turntable and there's some shit they did that makes it kinda frustrating:

• no autoreturn, meaning I can't pass out to a record
• switch between 33 & 45 by means of touching the belt, meaning a nacho enthusiast like me will inevitably fuck up the belt and platter with filth
  [Ed. Note: I didn't tell these guys that I am also really really ineptly frustratingly bad at changing between 33 & 45 and that when I try it, the belt invariably falls off a couple times before I can get everything lined up correctly]
• needs a preamp (because I have a second-rate amp), and the one they sell can't be turned on and off, meaning an incredibly bright blue LED burning at my eyeballs, and meaning...uh, shit, I guess I got to unplug it when I go to bed??
• dust cover isn't counterbalanced, so it is either down or up at a 90-degree

Keep an eye on that preamp. It figures in the next email I had to send about this turntable—this email, I sent to the manufacturer.

Hi --

I am extremely frustrated with your product. I bought it, used it maybe twice, and then put it on the shelf for a while, unplugging the preamp, because it has no power switch and I

1. didn't see why it should be sucking electricity all the time
2. didn't want to see the god damned LED all the time
3. thought it might overheat/burn out if I left it plugged in

I tried to use the turntable tonight, and the preamp is apparently dead. I tried plugging the AC adaptor into multiple different outlets to zero effect. The turntable itself appears to work as well as it ever did -- no auto-return, and the belt falls off all the god damned time, but the platter spins. Again: I am extremely frustrated. And disappointed. And angry.

What do you recommend I do? Will you make this right and at the very least replace the preamp for free? Please let me know.

yours, a person who really wanted to listen to some records tonight, and can't,

And here is the response I got.

Sorry to hear you are experiencing some difficulties. Please note that we are not the manufacturers of the ART brand DJ preamp. I also agree that the LED is irritating, although it is worth mentioning that it does consume very little power, so I wouldn't worry about (1) or (3) - most preamps are designed to be left on. If you ship us back the preamp we can take a look at it and will send you a replacement (pre-owned) if necessary. This is a courtesy, as we are not the manufacturers of this item. [Ed. Note: you sold me the item, dude.]

Alternatively, I imagine that this might be a power adapter issue. Can you try quickly using the Orbit's adapter to connect the preamp and see if that gives it power? If it's just the adapter we can send a new one.

The Orbit is a fully manual turntable so there is no auto-return. [Ed. Note: yes, this is what I'm complaining about.]

There is an auto-lift device called the Q UP that you can purchase and install if you would like similar functionality: http://www.amazon.com/Q-UP-QUP-Up-Tonearm/dp/B008OAMD26. [Ed. Note: sweet upsell. Exactly what a disappointed, frustrated customer is most interested in.]

Can you please describe the belt falling off - when exactly does it fall off (during play or installation)? This should not be happening and if you provide more information we would be happy to look into this for you.

I didn't get back to him, because I know when I've been blown off. U-Turn Audio never followed up, presumably because they know when they're not going to be able to upsell their way out of their "stupid, pretentious instance[s] of 'design' as a noun overwhelming the verb-process of designing something". They wanted to have something "minimal", so they sell a turntable that doesn't have autoreturn, or a dust cover that's functional, a turntable that makes you handle the stretchable, finger-oil sensitive drive belt every time you want to change the speed. And they back it up with the commitment to customer service that says "Hey, man, sure, the thing we sold you broke after a week of minimal use, but we didn't make it, so if you want it to be replaced...we'll send you a used one and act like we're doing you a favor while we do it." So fuck them; fuck U-Turn Audio. If you see a product by U-Turn Audio, do yourself a favor: do a U-Turn. Walk away and find something you will enjoy using, made by people who do not loathe you.

Jandd Hurricane Iniki Messenger Bag

0. Introductionalizing Maunderings / Methodological Preliminaries / Theoretical Foundations

Rain. It was rain that brought Jandd into my life. I'd quit the rains of Portland for California sunshine, but a year or so in, my secondhand first-generation Timbuktu was disintegrating badly, and my college-era Bean Turbo Transit pack had proven itself inadequate against hard winter precipitation. I was working 10 hours of overtime a week to be able to afford not hating every second I wasn't at work: the winter had begun with me treating myself to the then-new Chinese Democracy, which I could barely afford. —I knew I needed the bro price on whatever I tried to buy, so I just asked a then-popular social networking Web site if anybody knew about a strongly weatherproof bag option for bike riding they could help hook me up with.

My pal Mike came through. Didn't get to choose a color, but I did get to specify "biggest available", and one day in what I remember as early April of 2010 (but was actually 14may2009), I got the package, and took it to Bushrod Park in Berkeley to drink sunshine beer after work and open it up.

I've used it daily, with a couple of breaks here and there, since. The bag is a Jandd Hurricane Iniki. It's in a colorway approximating blue/beige, which is probably described as "thick ocean/mushroom" or "sex iris/olive" on the site. (I looked it up: midnight/bark.) It's still holding up well, still in daily use. It's got some significant cosmetic defects at this point, and at least some functional wear that indicates that, while it's lasted 5+ years to this point, it's not going to last another five. Or anyway suggests it won't. The thing has surprised me before.

This review is of a messenger bag, judged from the point of view of a bike rider. I ride exclusively: my concerns are how the bag works when I'm no the bike, when I'm carrying the bike (up stairs, say), when I'm locking up the bike. My uses for the bag are carrying things to and from work (office job) or my girlfriend's house, or the grocery store, or a ride to the beach for a picnic, or the bar, or the coffee shop, or wherever. The bag's performance outdoors is all I really care about, not its appearance indoors. It's worth noting that I carry a lot of shit on a day-to-day basis. Including but not limited to: shaving kit; Nalgene; coffee thermos; notebook/pens; book or kindle plus the new LRB or Harper's; phone charger; walkman; U-lock and cable lock; spare handkerchief and chamois; sunglasses; hat; next day's socks/underwear/work shirt; lights/gloves/pants clip; lunch; layer against the weather. I mention all this because it's a specific perspective on a specific set of requirements: most bag reviews I see seem to site the bag in the passenger seat of a car, or on a bus, and in an office; these reviews thus don't speak at all to my concerns. This review is also based on a quantity of experience most reviews don't have.

The bag is big. It holds a lot.

It's not too uncomfortable to carry heavy loads. I do my grocery runs with it, which means a lot of canned goods (beans) and beer (I like beer), and it's fine. (Those heavy loads are starting to pull the strap through the body of the bag, and that's what killed the Timbuktu.)

It's fairly waterproof. When the rain really comes down, the seam across the top, holding the rain flap to the body of the bag, leaks. There's a drawstring inside the body of the bag that's meant to close the bag against rain, but it's unfortunately prone to capillary action, which draws water into the bag. The rain flap and the body also aren't fitted to each other that well: there's often a gap open at each end, which is another rain problem.

The lining is thick and black and helps ensure that the bag is waterproof—or at least -resistant. But I will say that the white lining I see on my friends' bags is awesome, and I'm jealous, because it's easier for them to find shit in their bags than it is for me in mine, particularly in low-light conditions. (If you don't think I care about finding things in low-light conditions, you don't know me—and you don't know Mike Watt:

The pattern of pocket fabric should be at a 45-degree angle from the shirt's front pattern so you can find them in low-light conditions. Also mandatory, dual pockets and button-down flaps — dropping stuff out of my pocket and plumber's crack are my most embarrassing things on stage.

The lining on the storm flap is peeling badly. This is a very minor functional issue, so far at least, but it is a quite significant aesthetic issue.

There are thin leather discs sewn over the four bottom corners. They don't look great, but they are great. A wonderful idea that probably adds a year to the bag's life all by itself.

(The bag loaded.)

(The bag partially unloaded.)

(The bag's load. NOTE: this load was in addition to the daily carry.)

1. Some Minor Flaws

Most of the design elements are good. It's sound against the sky-wet; it's strong with the heavy; it's made out of phenomenally, ridiculously durable materials. But it also lags behind more modern bags in some important ways. I suspect it wasn't designed by somebody who actually uses a bag like this. It's heavy, but it's floppy, not stiff: it won't stand up on its own, and it doesn't really hold its shape very well. The bottom of the bag is square: just square enough to beg for things to fall all around it, but not square enough to be a platform for the bag and its contents to stand up. This matters because it makes the bag much harder to use. With a light load, you have to strap the bag very tightly to your body to keep things from moving around. (I.e., your thermos or bike lock ending up pushing directly into your kidneys or back.) This means that the bag's too tight to get into in the intended way: swinging it around your body and opening up the flap. Instead, you have to loosen the bag a bunch, which lets the contents shift around—hello again, bike lock! How pleasing it is to feel you jabbing my trunk again. Also when things shift around, they snag each other when you try to pull one or another thing out of the bag: your lock will snag your book, and it will fall on the ground, and you will curse.

The pockets play into this issue. Inside the body of the bag, there's a panel on which are mounted two pen pockets, a glasses case pocket, and two trade-paperback (slash bike lock) pockets. I use one of the trade paperback pockets as a bike lock pocket, but gravity and the bag's floppiness makes the lock weigh the bag's opening shut: the whole bag just collapses in on itself. (This also more or less happens if you throw a nice, heavy book into one or more of those bigger pockets, which you will want to do, because putting a book naked into the gaping maw of a bike bag is a good way to Beat That Book Absolutely To Shit.) This makes the bag harder to load, unload, use, etc.

Outside the body of the bag, there are two more pockets. One has a bunch of pen slots, which is good. I love pen slots. This one is good for your walkman, cigs, lighter, tampons, sundries. On that pocket's face is a zippered pocket. The zipper comes with a "stealth pull"—a strip of fabric, instead of a rattly-jangly metal tab to yank upon. This is pretty great! It's light and it's quiet. But it's also long enough to reach, and stick upon, and get torn up by, the hook side of the hook-and-loop closure stuff. Frustrating! Slightly bad design: who wants one part of their bag to get stuck on another? Who wants one part of their bag to fray another? Also: putting stuff in this zippered pocket will make it hard to put things into the pen slots. This is annoying.

Another problem involves the reflective strip. It's designed to reflect headlights and to be a mounting point for a flashy light. But if the bag is on the back of a human on a bike, the strip, or a light attached to, will point to the sky. Completely useless. I have actually had cars stop and stop me to tell me they couldn't see my light or reflectors.

2. Accessories Are Fun

There are a lot of accessories available and I've used a bunch of them.

• Computer Sleeve
  Sleeve for a laptop. It works well! For a long time, I kept it in my bag to add Structure, and to protect reading materials, (like my precious magazines) and to free up the front internal pockets: with this thing in there, you can tuck your bike locks in between the sleeve and your back, and they don't snag the rest of the bag's contents. But it's heavy, and it's bulk, so I quit carrying it when I wasn't carrying a laptop.
• Reflective Strips
  Essentially a necessity, given the reflective strip's problematic (useless) placement. They mostly work okay, though mounting them on the bag's compression straps adds some moving parts to the mechanism of locking down the rain flap and seems to make the buckles looser. I've lost at least one buckle, and at least one of the reflective strips.
• Stuff Sack
  I use these to keep my work shirts clean and wrinkly when I ride to work. They're thick and stout and they keep coffee drips off of my plaids.
• Pant Cuff Savior
  I didn't really want to buy this: my preferred way to keep my jeans off of my chain is this beautiful stainless steel C that I picked up in Portland and am terrified of losing, but that C isn't actually big and strong enough to handle both thick books and thick expensive denim, which combination I deploy kind of a lot. It's weird to call out something like this as particularly good, but this ankle strap is basically perfect. Ugly as sin and twice as strong, perfect for its function.
• Seat Bag
  This is how I know some of Jandd's design deserves to be held to a higher standard: while this is heavy and arguably overbuilt, it's got a light-colored lining, unlike the bags. I don't use it often, because leaving things attached to your bike is a good way to get them stolen, but it's great for what it is. (A fun alternative review is here.)
• Strap Pouch
  Just picked this up, and it's good. It's hot here, often, and I like to ride with a walkman in—this lets me put that walkman someplace besides a shirt with a pocket, saving me a layer and some sweat. Not sure it's waterproof, but otherwise it's smart: well built, well designed. Works.

3. Conclusionary Expansions

Every Jandd product I've bought shows up with a little card attached. One of the things the card says is:

At Jandd Mountaineering our primary objectives are in this order: functional, strength and design, and aesthetic appearance. Endless craftsmanship and attention to detail can be seen throughout each product. We are proud to say that we have the finest packs around.

I think Jandd mostly hits the marks they're aiming for. Mostly. The craftsmanship is more than evident: the materials they use and the techniques for assembling those materials are matchless. The aesthetics take a back seat, but the colors are quiet and attractive, the lines well-suited for the purpose. All this means that the durability and most of the functionality is off the charts.

But the day-to-day use is often marked with frustration, and this is because some of the design is amateurish. Small bonuses, like a white lining, are nowhere to be found. Errors persist that testing or experience would have revealed, like the useless reflective strip. Actual usability is sometimes lacking, as in the shapeless bag and the problem of hoisting out one and only one item.

I spend a lot of time looking at and for other bags. I have used this one, and used it hard, for around 1,500 days, and I have often been very frustrated with it. That said, I have a deep reservoir of affection for it: around the edges of this bag lurk the sloppy brushstrokes of amateurism, to be sure, but the center of the object is strong and full-hearted and incredibly well-intentioned. It's a bag I think about, but it's a bag I never have to worry about. My next bike bag is probably a year or more away, and it will almost certainly be another Jandd Hurricane Iniki, as it is, I judge, impossible to get a bag of higher quality for anything close to the price. Why would I buy anything else?