Fixed more difficult for thieves?

I have always thought that Allen Ginsberg personified the Spirit of the Fixie somewhat more than Jack Kerouac, who, after all travelled across America in cars and on railways. Gregory Corso damned himself, of course, by calling one of his Anthologies "Gasoline".

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by

          madness, starving hysterical naked, 
   dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn 
          looking for an angry fix, 
   angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly 
          connection to the starry dynamo in the machin- 
          ery of night, 
   who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat 
          up smoking in the supernatural darkness of 
          cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities 
          contemplating jazz, 
   who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and 
          saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene- 
          ment roofs illuminated, 
   who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes 
          hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy 
          among the scholars of war, 
   who were expelled from the academies for crazy & 
          publishing obscene odes on the windows of the 
          skull, 
   who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn- 
          ing their money in wastebaskets and listening 
          to the Terror through the wall,