Editor’s note: Musician and cycling enthusiast Neil Fein was tapped to answer a few questions about TWEED RIDES, an events where people dress in their finest and go for a ripping, relaxing bike ride. The pace is slow, in the ballpark of a brisk walk. (If your bike stays upright, you're going just fast enough.) It's a social occasion, not a race. For people who've never been on one, the following may answer some common questions about tweed rides. Questions for Neil…

What do people wear on a Tweed Ride?

You'll be riding your civilized bike for a relaxing, civilized hour, so try to look the part. You can wear anything that's safe to bike in. Unless you're an experienced rider, I suggest leaving your brass backpack at home.

Caution: pants hems and long dresses can get caught in the chain. Cotton trousers are great for riding – just roll up the right pants leg. You'll see a lot of dresses and skirts, but avoid getting a long dress anywhere near a bike's drivetrain. Knee-length skirts are popular with the ladies and knickers are popular with everybody. (If you think about it, modern bike shorts are really just skintight knickers made from space-age fabric.)

Don't have any tweed? No problem. Do you have a pair of grease-stained trousers and a toolbelt? Instant costume; now you're a mechanic. On a bike. Is there a tan blazer in your closet? Any suspenders in your dresser? An old army jacket? Don't forget that boots make any outfit awesome. When you get to the ride, there will be hats. My god, will there be hats. And bike helmets, modded and otherwise.

In the end, though, ruffles and frills are optional; you can show up dressed in whatever you own that's even vaguely appropriate. 

What kind of bike can you bring?

Let's get this straight: Racing bikes do not belong on tweed rides, so please leave your two-grand carbon-fiber monstrosity hanging on the wall at home near the fireplace for your affluent friends to admire. The modern ethos of the utility cyclist who eschews modern bicycle tech? It kinda sits well with tweed rides.

Older bikes fit in well, and they're relatively easy to weld, spindle, and mutilate. I've seen mountain bikes welded to wheelbarrows and industrial tricycles with love seats installed. That old rustbucket cruiser that's been oxidizing in your garage? It'll be perfect for a tweed ride.

While sticking gears on the frame won't make an old Schwinn suddenly Steampunk, you really don't need a full-on "steam bike" to join in. The bicycle itself is a turn-of-the-last-century invention, and it's anachronistic enough already without extraordinary interventions. (Except for those alien racing bikes.) People will have elaborate bikes with brass fittings and fringes, but most will just bring an old clunker they had in the garage.

Bikes are for kids, arrogant athletes, and unemployed poor people. Why would I want to go on this tweed ride?

Okay, nobody's actually asked me this, but I can answer it by telling you about how I got into riding in the first place: I started riding my bicycle to work in 2007, and my steed was a beat-up heavy mountain bike. It took me three hours to ride the twenty-mile route the first time I tried it. I would ride home from work with the wind in my then-short hair and the setting sun in my eyes.

I quickly discovered that riding was a great way to end a stressful day.

Similarly, you may find that a tweed ride is a great way to combine your love of Steampunk with a de-stressing activity. Inherent in Steampunk is the ability to find value in another way of life, and bikes are all about the same thing: A slower life, one that's more rewarding and relaxed.

At risk of demolishing what steampunk cred I have: I hover near the outer fringes of steampunk. I keep finding The Steam when looking for things I like. Two of my interests, music and bicycles, keep intersecting with Steampunk like a non-compliant, unlabeled Venn diagram. The appeal of a tweed ride is the same as that of any social riding: A slower, more human pace makes anything enjoyable.

Okay, I'm sold; how do I find one of these Tweed Rides?

To me, the 2011 Steampunk World's Fair was just another gig. I busked in the front lobby, played on stage twice, and got to see some awesome music. I found out about the tweed ride purely by luck.

Any steampunk convention, if it doesn't have one of these planned, will be ripe for starting one. Ask around. Also, remember that Google is your friend.

Once on the ride: Don't ride too fast or you'll lose the crowd. Even if someone kept up with you, you'd have to be uncouth and shout to be heard over the wind as you both discussed tea and Twitter.

Tell me about the ride you were on?

Sure. I wore an improvised "safari" outfit--white cotton shorts and a matching shirt, and also a big, floppy hat. I brought along my elaborate, almost-clean white folding bike with its too-new leather touring saddle. There were maybe a dozen riders, kids up front with their brightly colored bikes and adults with "steam" bikes taking up the back. As we rode around the parking lot, we started to notice that we had a small fan club. People waved, and we slowed down to smile or maybe say "good morning".

I started to recall those rides home from work, and I felt suddenly calmer. Sure, I had to be on stage later that day (with an act that hadn't really rehearsed as much as I would have liked), but the ride relaxed me, mellowed me. I had a smile on my face when we pulled up in front of the hotel.

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Neil Fein is a freelance editor as well as a guitarist for the band Baroque & Hungry. He rides his bicycle as much as he can, and he paints when the mood strikes him.