"I Knew I Was Going to Get Attention, But This Was Off The Chart."

PROSPECT HEIGHTS, BROOKLYN — "It's a little much," Jason Dubin said of the attention he receives, as yet another person stopped to take his picture and ask him about his bike. "It's insane. I should have expected it."

The whole thing started years ago, the 53-year-old Prospect Heights native explained, when he took a Craigslist gig pedaling advertisements around Manhattan using a recumbent bicycle.

"It's just so much more pleasant" than a normal bike ride, he explained. "It's still hard work, but you're not uncomfortable. It's night and day."

And after that simple beginning, things got intense.

Over the years, Dubin has bought about ten different recumbent bikes, he said, getting them used, fixing them up, and eventually selling them.

The yellow head-turner he's currently coasting around town in is called a "tadpole" or a "reverse" — a swooping yellow teardrop with two wheels in front and one in the back.

More specifically, it's a "velomobile," and it's the kind of aerodynamic bike that people who set bike speed records use when setting them. Dubin said the world speed record on a three-wheel velomobile is 75 m.p.h. His personal best is 41 m.p.h., hit during a ride in Prospect Park.

Since the aluminum and carbon fiber frame ways about 75 pounds, the bike is a bit slow off the starting block, Dubin said. But once it gets going, "it just does not stop accelerating."

Dubin has added a few upgrades to the bike, including working tail lights and turn signals. Perhaps the biggest style boost is the large red lightning bolt emblazoned on the velomobile's top.

"Somebody told me if you put a lighting bolt on a vehicle, it goes faster," Dubin explained. "I think it was an 8-year-old."

The lightning bolt

The "Jet Fuel Only" decals on the bike's sides were there when he bought it, he said. Dubin often answers questions in a wry deadpan, and so when people ask him what the bike runs on, which they constantly do, he just says, "Jet fuel."

Dubin films his rides around town using a 360-degree camera, uploading the videos to YouTube (including the aforementioned 41 m.p.h. jaunt, embedded below).

The motorist said his picture shows up online in social media posts. He's also been adorned with various nicknames. One person called him "bike demon." Another labeled him "boss speed." A third simply yelled out "Recumbo!"

"I knew I was going to get attention," he said, "but this was totally off the chart."

You might be wondering if it gets hot inside a velomobile during the summer. Dubin admitted that at times, it feels "like riding in your own personal sauna." But he said there's generally enough air flowing through the cabin to keep things comfortable.

Ready to ride

Another thing Dubin is comfortable with: his wardrobe. (This is admittedly a side-bar, but we are, after all, talking about a man embracing his conspicuousness.)

On the day Patch caught up with him, Dubin was sporting blue Converse sneakers and multi-colored slacks broken up into wild geometry.

He explained the situation: years ago, he was overweight and had an extremely limited sartorial palette. A doctor told him he needed to get in shape. He said he lost 60 pounds, and decided to lose his drab threads as well, acquiring 40 pairs of pants in the process.

At this point in the story, Dubin said he needed to add a detail that he described with a mixture of sarcasm and sincerity as "important."

He's dressing better than ever, he said, and he's in the best shape of his life. But despite it all, he remains single.

"No woman in New York City is comfortable with a man who dresses better than they do," he said. "This" — he indicated the bike — "almost makes up for it. This makes me so happy."

A moment, now, of reportorial privilege: when spoken aloud to those unfamiliar with the site, "Patch.com" is often misheard as "Match.com." It's an association the company generally does not promote. In this case, we'll make an exception.

Ladies: come on.

Pictured at top: Jason Dubin and his velomobile. Photos by John V. Santore