Every once in a while, a work of art perfectly captures the zeitgeist of a period of time, becoming forever associated with the era it depicts. Then again, for every work like that, there are about a thousand books like The Ultimate Rush, which strives so desperately to be hip—and fails so terribly—that it becomes almost a surreal self-parody. The universe of Joe Quirk's first novel seems wholly constructed out of Mountain Dew commercials and pamphlets on advertising to Generation X: His San Francisco is inhabited primarily by Dew-swigging, tattooed, extreme-sports-loving hipsters; cybergeeks surfin' the net; uptight busybodies perpetually shocked at the antics of these crazy Gen-Xers; and bisexual riot grrls who just need the right man to set them straight. Quirk's protagonist is a self-described "bad-ass speed ninja," a totally rad rollerblading delivery boy/hacker whose life of mosh-pit dancing, rollerblading, code-breaking debauchery is interrupted when he accidentally gets mixed up with a scam involving evil businessmen, Chinese mobsters, and the San Francisco Police Department. Soon, he's running for his life and trying to clear his name, all the while romancing his bisexual skater-chick best friend. And while the first 100 pages or so delivers an unintentionally hilarious assemblage of prototypically Gen-X characters, activities, and attitudes, the last 250 are more straightforward and significantly less amusing. Which is unfortunate, since The Ultimate Rush could make a telling time-capsule entry for future generations who want to study everything the mid- to late '90s weren't about.