barrysherry - peaceonabike

July 24, 2012February 19, 2024

Strong Winds and a Strong Ride

WEBSTER CITY, IOWA

I wore my full Belgian FUCANCER kit today, riding for Jake. I packed the tent and then asked a stranger in our campground to write “JAKE GRECCO” on my calves. Lots of people write “Virgin” on their calves to indicate they are first-time RAGBRAIers but from the beginning, I told Scott Scudamore that I would only write Jake’s name on my legs.

I saw Scott at the campsite but he wasn’t ready so I rolled out at 6:15 a.m. I rode on my own for 20 miles, almost always passing people and rarely being passed. And if I was passed I always looked to see if I could jump in and make or join a paceline.

Pace lines were discouraged if not prohibited. I already realized that a typical RAGBRAI pace line was one guy pulling and 5-6 guys wheel sucking. They weren’t pace lines at all — just wheel suckers looking for a free ride.

But then three guys went by me and I jumped on their wheels. It was easy to follow because they kept a steady pace with a constant cadence – no herky-jerky pedaling movements. When the first guy peeled off the front and slid back he saw me on 4th wheel. Without saying a word, I slid up to 3rd wheel so he could fall in behind me. Perfect. I was part of a four-man pace line.

They were three guys from Des Moines, Brad, Pat, and Joe, later to be joined by a fourth, Jay. At Mile 52 we stopped in Dayton and ate watermelon. Without a word, we were four. I was waiting for them and they were waiting for me.

Joe, from Des Moines, in Stratford, Iowa

We went 10 miles and turned onto the Karras Loop. This 22-mile loop was designed to allow riders to turn one day into a century ride. Named for the founder of RAGRBAI, John Karras, he was actually at the stopping town on the loop, Stratford, for photos or a meet and greet.

The winter day I rode at Trexlertown, Pa., featured the windiest gusty day I ever rode. But I think this day was second. None of us knew for sure but 30 mph seemed like the right measurement for the gusts of winds. And so we rode directly into 30 mph headwinds most of the way. Or a lot of the way. And still, we hammered it.

Brad (Bianchi green) and Pat, in Stratford, Iowa

I stopped in Stratford for lunch and had the most delicious chicken sandwich on the trip. To my surprise or amazement, Brad, Joe, and Pat did too. It meant either I still had someone to ride with or meant more miles of suffering keeping up with the pace.

At Lehigh, they stopped to find Jay and I searched for the hill climb. The Register promised a hill climb with a 20-26% grade. I found it. Joe and I did it although it was supposed to be a fundraiser for the town. Lay down $5 and if you can do it in less than three minutes they give you a koozie — a foam cover for your drinks. We did it, neither paid the $5 for a koozie but both in under three minutes. It was a formidable climb, even in Iowa. I suspect it averaged 15% most of the way up.

Lake City, Iowa
The town’s motto is “Everything but a lake”

It was from these guys I learned how the non-registered riders (bandits) do it. Being from Iowa they explained they all know someone who knows someone who has a great aunt living in one of the towns. They contact them to pitch their tent. There are port-a-johns scattered throughout the host cities and showers everywhere – in schools and portable shower trucks mostly. Apparently, most vendors don’t care if you are registered or not.

The charters do care. To ride with Brancel Charters or any other group, you must be a registered rider. But certainly, the farm stand on the side of the road looks at all money as green.

Our bandits rotated driver duties. On any given day one person doesn’t ride but drives to the next location with their gear then often doubles back on their bike part way to meet their group. While the roads aren’t close, most are back roads and the riders often fan all the way across the road. It is always scary and dangerous to meet a rider coming against the flow of traffic.

Today Jay, their designated driver, met us in Lehigh. As we climbed out of the river valley we dropped Pat. I was hoping, even praying, that we would sit up and wait for him but they seemed to think he wanted to drop and ride at his own pace. The pace we were keeping was too much for him. We remained at four riders.

And we rode at our pace, which into a strong wind, and was hard. Arriving at Webster City, we did a rolling goodbye, never to see, or even really know who my friends were, again.

Maybe I should not have ridden with them. I play by the rules and having 10,000-15,000 bandits jump in this ride makes it more dangerous than it is. When I learned they weren’t official RAGBRAI riders I could have left them. But today they were just cyclists.

In Webster City, we camped next to a middle school. Showers were $5 and the school served a spaghetti dinner for $8. Entertainment was by Three Dog Night, which I did not attend. I didn’t want to stay up that late.

This was my second 100-mile ride in a row. The legs held up fine with most of the damage from the hard pace into the wind. Average speed was almost 18 mph over these 100 miles which include time walking through towns. Plus it was 100 degrees.

July 23, 2012July 30, 2021

Mr. Pork Chop

LAKE VIEW, IOWA

Sunday was hot and Monday (today) got hotter. With 20,000 cyclists you will never be first or last at anything. Never. Get up at 4:30 to be first? Guaranteed that someone is already on the road.

Even if you wanted to sleep in, which on RAGBRAI is until sunrise, it’s almost impossible. With our charter, we had a campsite and all tents were close together. Someone was always up before sunrise tearing down their tent and dragging their roller bags to the truck. And talking. And so I was up before sunrise.

The daily routine was to roll up the sleeping bag (used to lay on, never to crawl in), dress for the day’s ride, smoosh the clothes back into the suitcase, tear down and pack the tent, then take the two bags to the truck. Check the air in the tires, jump on the bike and roll. Breakfast, if at all, would come on the road.

I wore my new Cyclists Combating Cancer kit, thinking of 8-year-old Jacob Grecco getting hyperthermia treatments in Germany.

On the bus ride from Clinton to Sioux City we saw the official RAGBRAI welcome video. It was clear that Mr. Pork Chop was a tradition not to be missed. But there were other vendors too. And I found the Schwan Ice Cream Man.

RAGBRAI is a celebration of Iowa. Maybe of cycling too, but mostly Iowa. For the host towns, it is a major event to be selected. But even for the pass-thru towns like Schaller, it is huge.

Churches, schools, civic groups, clubs, and sports teams all come out to greet and welcome the riders. And to sell things, mostly food. But not everyone is selling. Like Punxsutawney with the Groundhog Queen or Meyersdale (Pa.) with the Maple Queen, and thousands of communities with their various themed queens, this town wanted to greet us with their best. And I met Schaller’s 2012 Popcorn Queen, Heather Hansen.

Heather was mingling with other friends when I asked for a photograph. Once I did it seemed a line form to get a picture with her.

I only had to walk a few meters through Schaller before being able to jump on the bike and roll. Once back on the road, I met Rod Ambelang from Kansas City. We were wearing the same CCC jersey so we talked about — cancer. We rode for a while before I joined an ill-formed paceline and went down the road far ahead of him.

I wasn’t with the paceline long and we broke up when we came to the roadside stand of Mr. Pork Chop, a RAGBRAI tradition. Unfortunately, so is the stupid tradition of rides going by yelling “Mr. Pork CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!” For $7 I got a chop so thick that I could not eat the entire thing. But I tried it.

At Sac City, I stopped to see the World’s Largest Popcorn Ball. It’s a celebration of Iowa and the Sac City natives were proud of their ball. This was straight out of National Lampoon’s Vacation.

World’s Largest Ball of Popcorn, Sac City, Iowa

After Sac City I caught Rod again. We rode together the last 10 miles to Lake View and then said goodbye.

Once I got to camp and set up, I surmised the situation. I just rode 65 miles. It was 100º. I could shower, put on clothes, then sweat through them. Or — I could ride.

I asked a local resident how far it was around the lake and she told me seven miles. So I did five loops of the lake trying to keep cool. And to see if it was foolish to ride 100 miles before tomorrow’s century ride.

After a shower, I took a shuttle (a wagon pulled by a tractor) into town for a $9 spaghetti dinner at the United Methodist Church. The line, unbeknownst to me when I entered it, was more than one hour, the first 30 minutes spent in the 100º sun. Inside we were ushered into the sanctuary until our number was called to eat.

I sat beside a couple and asked Emily Fuhrman where she was from. She said Fort Wayne, Indiana, and introduced me to her boyfriend who was from Houston, Ohio (pronounced House-ton, by the way). She was hesitant at first to name the town because it was so small no one would have ever heard of it. A small town about 40 miles north of Dayton. When she said Houston I paused and said, “Oh, I attended school there.” And I had attended school there in 1966-1967. It’s a small world indeed.

My good friend, Scott, came rolling in with a group around 3:00 or 4:00. He asked me when I arrived at I told him 11:00 a.m. He was astounded. “How you could do that, he asked?” And I told him I rode 100 miles today.

I proceeded to ask Scott about his day. He said they rolled out but stopped to grab breakfast in Cherokee. In Aurelia, they stopped for refreshments (not sure if this was alcohol or not).

In Schaller, Scott and some friends went to a beer garden and spent a lot of time there then sought relief from some sprinklers. In Sac City, he went into an air-conditioned church (which was open to riders) and fell asleep on a pew. Then, perhaps, another beer garden.

Just rolling through Iowa
Photo Credit: **Rob Ambelang**

Two different approaches to RAGBRAI. Me, I just wanted to ride my bike. Scott, on the other hand, wanted to enjoy everything there was about Iowa. We were both happy with our different approaches to this ride.

July 22, 2012July 19, 2017

Me and 23,000 Friends

CHEROKEE, IOWA

I waited for Scott Scudamore and his group of friends and they asked me to lead them out, joking that I would soon drop them. We went 150 meters and I pulled over to look for a friend, Mickey Haalman, who was working with Bubba’s Pampered Pedalers. They rolled on without me and I never saw them the rest of the day. And I didn’t see Mickey either.

We rolled out of Sioux Center. The fire department hung American flags high above the road for our roll out. Thousands, 10,000 registered and estimates of 23,000 total, rolled out of Sioux Center. And I was alone. With thousands.

Once on the open road one can ride at speed. Mostly. But entering the small towns you often come to a complete stop. So many people are stopping and dismounting that more often than not you have to dismount and walk your bike through the town.

The first town I came to was Orange City. Dead stop. I thought I could stay on my bike but came to the realization that so many people would just stop and turn that it was safer to walk.

I met up with a young man, Stephen, from Chicago and we rode together the entire day. It was nice having company. We stopped at a farm stand selling water, Gatorade, and bananas, a RAGBRAI staple.

RAGBRAI is a celebration of Iowa. In the towns and cities where it passes they bring out their firetrucks and hang banners. Churches, schools, scout and civic groups all set up stands selling food. And in between the towns, the farmers set up stands selling food.

In Marcus we stopped for more drink and watermelon. But mostly we pedaled. We did a rolling farewell when we arrived Cherokee, never to see each other again. “Nice riding with you – have a great week.”

Once I arrived in Cherokee, and it was a bit early, I did a little riding around town. I found a nice swimming pool but the line was too long to get in. That would have been the best deal going. At RAGBRAI everything, including a shower, costs money. Rather than pay $6-$8 for a shower I could get a swim and a shower for $6-$8.

Plus I was a little uncomfortable leaving my bike outside the pool without locking it. I don’t carry a lock. My bike is in my car, in my house, or between my legs. Or at RAGBRAI, in my tent.

I found a restaurant where I could leave my bike outside the window and watch it while eating in my booth. If you want to know, it was a Pizza Hut. But it worked.

I ate dinner then went to the campsite where I put the bike in my tent, showered, and enjoyed some good company of others before dark. I also found the recharging station that we had at our camp. It was generator powered and I grabbed two spots – one for my phone and one for my Garmin.

As soon as it was dark I went to bed. I’m boring.

July 22, 2012July 23, 2015

RAGBRAI

SIOUX CENTER, IOWA

It’s called the Des Moines Registers’ Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa –
aka RAGBRAI. Some cyclists want to do it every year but most every cyclist
wants to attend once. The circumstances worked out that this would be
the year that I rode RAGBRAI.

Logistics can be complicated but I attended with my friend and one-time veteran, Scott Scudamore, which made it easier. We drove to the finish city, Clinton, Iowa, on Friday and took Registers’ Annual Great Bus Ride Across Iowa on Saturday to the start city, Sioux Center. Brancel Bicycle Charters transported our bikes in a moving van to Sioux Center.

And for me, RAGBRAI began in Sioux Center. The city center was transformed into RAGBRAI headquarters and so it began. Arriving around 4:30 p.m., I set up my tent and then went for a bike ride.

Tent City in Sioux Center

RAGBRAI is the ride across Iowa and it seemed disingenuous to not start at the Iowa border yet claim that one rode all the way across Iowa. And although it was hot, something that would dog us all week, I put two bottles of water on the bike and headed west — searching for the South Dakota border.

Lots of Jr. High Humor and Innuendo at RAGBRAI

I found Oak Hill State Park which led to the Big Sioux River, the border between South Dakota and Iowa. There were only a few riders here and each dipped their rear wheel in the river. I didn’t.

Big Sioux River. South Dakota is across the river.

I have been in 44 states but never South Dakota and wanted to cross the river. I thought about wading or swimming to the other side but there was no welcome sign.

I left the park determined to follow a road until I came to South Dakota. Heck, I might even have to ask someone for directions. But I didn’t need to.

On Hwy 10 I found the crossing into South Dakota. Now I was ready to return to Sioux Center in the knowledge that I was about to bike all the way across Iowa.

Barry’s start of RAGBRAI

A RAGBRAI tradition is for rookies to write VIRGIN on their calves. Part hazing but good fun. Jake the Hero Grecco was weighing heavy on my mind and I never allowed anyone to write Virgin on my calves — only Jake’s name would go on my legs.

June 28, 2012July 23, 2015

Dead Legs

CATHARPIN, VA

The last day of Bike Virginia, I had to decide to ride with my cousin, Kay Walborn, one last time, my friends, John Dockins or Vince Amodeo, or something different. Initially I thought I’d roll out with Bike Virginia until the 50 mile mark then head home and ride another 60 miles. In the end I decided to just ride home – a distance of 70-80 miles, depending on which roads I took.

The Bike Virginia folks rolled out starting at 7:00 a.m. and at 7:44 a.m. I got a message from John:

“Major crash. Road closed. Car hit bike.”

“Very somber ride today. People have seen chest compressions on the biker.“

I was glad not to be in the group today. I can ride comfortably as one or one in the 2,000. I took the roads I knew and ended up on Kabletown Road. I was surprised when after pulling over to check the message from John a Bike Virginia rider pulled up and asked me if she was on the right road. She must have left at 6:00 a.m. I assured her she was.

Kabletown Road was part of the Bike Virginia route but not until their Mile 40 or so. I simply took a short cut from Ashley’s place over to it to get me home and expected to see no one today since that would put me far in front of the event.

With today’s route one could not get lost. Headed south, you are bordered on the east by the Shenandoah River, on the west by Rte 340, and on the south by Rte 7. Either 340 or 7 takes one to Berryville, the ending location.

But that should not be an issue. Bike Virginia had perhaps the best signage of any supported event I have been on, except perhaps Livestrong-Philly. Up at 4:30 a.m., volunteers were placing signs and cones, and even using some flagmen (and flag women) at dangerous locations.

I continued on, passing the rider, and was first to arrive at the last rest stop of the ride, Moose Apple Christmas Tree Farm.

Moss Apple Christmas Tree Farm

The owner was a retired teacher from Fairfax Co. He has 25,000 trees planted. And sells some stain glass and other crafts on the side. It’s a real neat place. I even passed a turkey going in.

At 8:45 a.m., I was almost two hours ahead of the planned arrival and they were surprised and honored me. They took pictures of this rider. Number One!

I stayed for close to an hour, almost feeling that I had to stay until other riders showed up. Within an hour one did, then another, then my friend John. After a few more minutes it was time to go.

It was bittersweet that I was leaving Bike Virginia. I turned off the route and was now unsupported.

Note to self: The two mile section one has to ride on Route 7 eastbound is very scary. I’m thinking Rte 9 may be safer, especially once the new bypass is in and most of the traffic is off it.

I followed Rte 7 to Snickersville Turnpike and don’t remember a rougher time climbing. I had dead legs. They weren’t sore or didn’t ache. They were just dead. No power. And Snickersville is not flat. It has lots of steep drops and steep climbs. Ugh.

I thought I’d try Rte 234 – Sudley Road and that wasn’t the best option either. No shoulder and 55 mph traffic. At 52 miles in, I heard something break and immediately stopped. It was a spoke on the rear wheel.

With nowhere to go, I could not repair it, I called a cab for the final 27 miles. And fell asleep in someone’s yard.

EPILOGUE — The cyclist died.

The cyclist, a Corning, N.Y., man taking part in the Bike Virginia Tour was in critical condition at Winchester Medical Center Wednesday afternoon after having a heart attack while bicycling through Jefferson County, according to the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department. He died at the Winchester Medical Center late Wednesday night.

It is a somber reminder that this sport that I love is inherently dangerous. And there, but for the Grace of God, go I. Hit by a car with an awkward fall on Saturday, I could have landed badly and died. And faced with what must have been a slow speed crossing of those tracks, it was a freak accident that his awkward landing may have induced his cardiac arrest.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Mark Hogan. 🙁

Live each day to the fullest. And enjoy the journey.

June 27, 2012July 23, 2015

Riding for Jake

CHARLES TOWN, WV

I was excited this morning because I wanted to take a page out of the book of my friends doing the 4K for Cancer ride across the United States. Each day these 90 young people write the name of a cancer patient or survivor or someone who has lost the battle on their calves. I had my son-in-law, Bryan Snow, write the name of Jake Grecco, a true super hero, on my calves.

Just 8 years old and battling brain cancer, Jake has taken chemo, radiation, and even brain surgery in stride. Weakened by my lengthy rides, I felt energized today riding with Jake’s name on my calves.

I arranged to meet with old friend and co-worker, John Dockins, in front of the Trek Tent, and we rolled out at 7:30 a.m. On the road he started to hammer it although we settled into a good pace (which means we passed everybody) but we were joined by two others. For the first 15 miles four of us worked together in the heavy winds, which would be present all day.

Following a tractor. You know, we go the same speed
as a tractor but nobody yells or throws things at a tractor.

We had caught a tractor pulling some machinery at 20-22 mph. Perfect. We pulled in behind him and he created the perfect wind block. We rode in his draft for about two miles before he turned off. Rest Stop #1 was at the Summit Point Raceway. It was pretty cool. Some riders took to the race track for extra miles.

Rest Stop at Summit Point

Rolling out of the rest stop, we formed a new group with some men and women and hammered home with them. After the second rest stop, it got real funky.

Almost from the start today my legs hadn’t recovered. I thought my body was weakening having ridden 300 miles in three days.

John took off from Rest Stop #2 dropping me. I was never more than 50-100 meters behind him but there the two of us went, passing everyone along the way, John, followed by me, trailing 50-100 meters later. The wind was very heavy and John seemed stronger cutting through the wind than I did. I chased for six miles, never pulling him back but never closing the gap. And I was getting pissed.

I wondered what he was thinking and later he said he thought I had dropped back to talk to some people and would catch him when I wanted to. I wasn’t buying that. In this wind he was stronger.

John Dockins, Barry Sherry

Although the two of us had been passing people for six miles, I was going nowhere until I was passed by two riders. That quickly became three when I jumped on their wheels. Perfect.

It was the perfect tow back up to John. As we got ready to pass him I tried to sneak past without him seeing me. But he did and he jumped on and briefly made four in our group.

But shortly after that the two guys in front passed a car that was going slow up a hill and I joined them. John initially came but clunked his gears and he was gone. Just like that.

If John truly thought that I was behind him and could catch him anytime I feel like it what I did then was a crappy move. But if he was going full out in the wind without regard for his friend then it was payback. Big time.

We joined up with some other riders and alternated the workload. One guy came to the front with about three miles to go to the rest stop and hammered it. He was a big rider and was “nose in the wind” going about 23 mph. I sat second wheel and felt like half the time I was coasting.

This guy (left) rocked it! Best “pull” of the five days.

After a lunch break, we hit the road. After 43 miles of hammering, it was time for solo work. John and I left the rest stop for one mile then he would take the cutoff road and skip the climbing loop. I turned onto the climb. It was a formidable two and a half mile hill, and one by one I started passing people on the climb. I’m sure I didn’t catch everyone, but I passed five or six and wasn’t passed by anyone.

Once over the top I bombed the descent and caught and passed 15-20 riders in the valley leading to the next rest stop.

At the stop one woman saw Jake’s name on my legs and made a smart ass comment: “Do you name your shoes too so you can get the right legs in the right shoes?”

I was pissed. And hurt. I told her quietly that I was riding for my 8-year old cousin who was battling brain cancer.

I carried that with me the rest of the ride. The thought was we need fewer smart asses in this world and more compassion. I wanted to tell her off but the comment was made by, well, a smart ass trying to be funny and not with malice. Her group took off while I sat down and ate some food.

When I left the rest stop I wanted nothing more than to catch the woman who insulted my family. They were long gone but I that didn’t stop me from trying.

I immediately hit the next hill. It was a shorter, one and a half miles, but steeper climb. There I passed by 10-15 riders on the climb and, over the top, bombed the descent. Once in the valley I started reeling in riders in front of me – maybe another 30.

Going through Martinsburg was like old home week to me since I know the area pretty well. Hitting the bike trail outside of town I passed 40-50 riders and was passed by none. I really felt strong in miles 80-90. Seriously, in the last 40 miles I was passed by no one.

Getting back, I sat down and ate lunch at the Bike Virginia campus. When it was time to roll out I needed 10 more miles for 100 and 15 for 400 for four days. As good as I felt in miles 80-90, I felt that bad for the next 10 miles. It hit me. I was tired. But I was riding for Jake. And I would finish.

I added enough miles to give me another century then went to Ashley and Bryan’s place and laid down on the floor. I fell asleep. Three centuries in four days. Four hundred miles in four days.

I was very tired.

June 26, 2012July 23, 2015

It’s About the Journey

CHARLES TOWN, WV

Day 3 of Bike Virginia and I didn’t know what the day would hold. And that was part of the fun. I had seen my friend, Vince Amodeo, and had texted my friend, John Dockins, but had not yet seen him.

Tents at the Middle School
Flowing Springs Rd in the background

I rolled out and over to the Bike Virginia campus. I thought I’d meet my cousin, Kay Walborn, but she wasn’t out and on the road yet when I rolled out. So I took off by myself.

Riders turning off Flowing Springs Road

On the road I teamed up with some riders and ended up having a slow day – truly enjoying the journey, as I like to say. The first rest stop, after a harrowing ride on U.S. 11 going to Williamsport, Maryland, was at the Williamsport United Methodist Church. Most rest stops had the same water and Gatorade, fruit and snacks. I suspect Bike Virginia buys the food and the rest stop simply provides the space and volunteers.

Outside the church they had a “blessing of the bikes.” I skipped it since I had already been hit. Inside the church they served noodle soup, fried potatoes, and hot donuts, in addition to the normal fare. Bike Virginia also sponsored a contest for best rest area and this one got my vote. Extra points for not subjecting us to live bluegrass music too.*

Part of the journey was swimming in the Potomac River, although my participation was limited to wading. I didn’t want a squishy butt full of river water in my shorts.

But a number of people did.

Some of these roads were new to me and some weren’t. But most were new to the riders around me and they loved the road in Antietam National Battlefield. Perfect asphalt and no traffic. Nice.

We rode through the park then stopped for a photo op.

Antietam Battlefield

Actually, I was waiting for the all clear sign so that I could absolutely bomb the descent. I put my gear in the big ring and pedaled hard and got in my tuck. It felt like 50 mph. I looked down and my Garmin was — off.

Oh well. I will have to come back on my own and try that one again. The road is perfect – smooth pavement, no traffic, straight as an arrow down then rises on the other side. No turns.

After lunch in Sharpsburg, those cyclists “in the know” went back to Nutters for ice cream. It was an excellent way to finish.

At the end of the day I turned a planned 57-mile ride into a 73-mile ride but didn’t feel like stretching it beyond that.

_________
*EPILOGUE – This rest stop did win best rest stop award. Noodle soup, hot fried potatoes, and freshly cooked donuts in addition to the blessing of the bikes. Wonderful job!

June 24, 2012August 26, 2021

A Double Triple

CHARLES TOWN, WEST VIRGINIA

After being struck by a car I wanted to go home yesterday but ended up getting a wheel repair at the local Trek bike store in Charles Town. At no charge. That always helps.

The newly trued wheel rolled well and I was thankful for the coolness of the morning air to ride. But I also thought of the bike and remembered that a carbon fiber bike must be checked out before being ridden again after a crash. While I was thankful the local Trek store fixed my wheel I wish the mechanic would have asked to check out the bike. I was in no frame of mind to think to ask him to do that.

Trek mechanic onsite checking out the Pilot

Arriving in Berryville, I found the on-site Trek mechanic who checked out the bike and was able to reposition the shifters. He gave the bike a clean bill of health. More importantly, he gave me peace of mind.

Since the mechanic took time checking the bike, it felt as though I was the last to leave Berryville. As I rode I began to catch and pass everyone. It would be one of those days where I would pass everyone and not get passed. Period.

After making my way through the first group of riders I passed five riders stopped along the side of the road, all supervising some poor schmuck trying to fix his bike. I asked if they needed one more person to watch and they said yes. So I stopped. Poor guy had a broken chain and other than making a phone call (for SAG support), I couldn’t help, but by then all those slow, old (my age) people came rolling by so I let them pass then worked my way through them again.

When I passed a rider named Karen, she jumped on my wheel and followed me. She announced her presence and stated that I was the right speed to follow. And she did. For a while. Then she admitted I was too fast but I backed it off and we rode together and picked up some other riders as well.

At Rest Stop Number 1 in Rippon, I saw a family with young children in cycling gear. How cute. As they were getting ready to leave I talked to them. I told them I saw a family down at River Ride on the Northern Neck about five years ago who had a triple Co-Motion bike with dad and two daughters on it while the mother pulled a — “Burley Trailer,” everyone pretty much said in unison.

“That was us,” replied the mom. The family is from Front Royal, Virginia.

My memory of that day on the Northern Neck was seeing this extremely cute family pull in at the end of the ride. The youngest girl was sound asleep — head over folded arms on the handlebars — with her feet clipped into the pedals going in circles.

The oldest daughter said “yep, that was Kylie. She can do that”*

But now there were six. They’ve added to their cycling family. Three on dad’s bike and three on mom’s. How very cute. A double triple.

They left the rest stop before I did and although I caught them on Kabletown Road, I didn’t see them the rest of the day. Hopefully I will see them again.

The route would zigzag around Charles Town on some of the roads I had ridden down to Berryville to the start. I was almost getting dizzy going in a circle. Like yesterday, my cousin, Kay Walborn, started earlier than I could, and from Berryville.

Although this was billed as a recreational touring ride and not a place for pace lines, occasional lines formed and it was fun riding just a little faster with other people. Or a lot faster than other people. I had missed out on that yesterday except for the first 10 miles or so when I had jumped in with a group of four.

But today I rode with a woman and her dad for a while, and also with Paul from Allentown, Pa., plus Karen from Ashville, N.C. At the lunch stop around Mile 48 (my mile 68) I had caught my cousin, Kay Walborn, and we then rode together the optional 20-mile loop. Near the end of the ride, I was ahead of Kay and her friend, Wanda, on Job Corps Road, when I was left shaken.

While descending a hill, I was doing about 30 mph and was hugging the white line at the edge of the road. There was no shoulder. Then I heard it. A large diesel pickup truck was barreling down on me and wanting to pass. But there was an oncoming car and hardly room for the three of us. He gunned it.

I was over as far as I could get and the truck passed within inches. Kay told me that the truck missed my head by two inches. What is it? Two accidents in two days?

When we finished I had 90 miles so it was easy to get 100 before going back to Bethany’s.

Two Days. Two Centuries.

___
*I’m not sure of the daughter’s name – but let’s go with Kylie.

June 23, 2012August 26, 2021

Struck by a Car

The day started with promise. Attending Bike Virginia, I rode 20 miles from Charles Town to the event’s registration in Berryville, Va.

Once on the road, I reset my odometer so as not to remind myself that I had ridden 20 miles farther than anyone else. And it worked.

I was surprised that at a park and swimming pool rest stop at Mile 80 near Winchester I ran into my friend Vince Amodeo. I had been chasing my cousin, Kay Walborn, for these 80 miles and had given up finding her.

I said goodbye to Vince and sat down to text Kay. We had been texting at each rest stop and I had no idea I was close. My legs felt like it was 80 miles, not 100, and then I heard her call my name. I had caught her. What a nice surprise. We rolled out together and rode together for just six miles before I broke from the route and headed back to Charles Town.

In Charles Town, as I came up Washington Street, a car started to overtake me at an intersection. This is a common occurrence and I didn’t think much of it. As I went straight the driver got just far enough in front of me then she whipped the car to the right and made a right turn. Into me. The classic right hook.

I tried to evade her by turning sharper but I couldn’t. She hit me and sent me flying.

I remember nothing after being contacted by her car until I was on the ground. My shoulders and back seemed to take the worst of it and I lay on the street in pain with my bike on top of me, still clipped into the left pedal.

I had ridden 115 miles, my farthest ever, and combined with the heat, 86º, and the effort to get up the rise before the intersection, I was breathing heavy. Laying on my back I was afraid to open my eyes. I was scared.

I was breathing very heavily and heard the woman who hit me scream at me. “DIDN’T YOU SEE MY SIGNAL!!!” “DIDN’T YOU SEE MY SIGNAL!!!”

I paid her no attention and within another minute a passerby stopped her car and came to my assistance. If I had any idea of getting to my feet she made sure that I was to remain immobile. In fact, she held me around my shoulders so I wouldn’t move. And I was too weak to fight.

Another passerby tried to unclip my shoes. And in the moment, I could not remember how to release them. I was afraid they were going to cut them off. Not my Louis Garneaus!

An ambulance arrived pretty quickly followed by the police and then a firetruck. As the paramedics attended to me the woman who had been attending, also a paramedic, introduced herself to them. I was holding the back of my leg, not because I was injured but because the position I was in, combined with riding 115 miles in the heat, was causing me to cramp.

She told the paramedic crew that I was cramping because I had ridden 15 miles. “115 miles,” I corrected her, and I threw water on her.

They extricated me from my bike (is that a thing?) and moved it next to a building. They helped me to my feet then checked my vitals, checking to see if I was dizzy. I could move everything but was sore from the crash. I had some road rash but it wasn’t bad. I refused a trip to the emergency room in the ambulance.

My handlebar tape was torn and the shifters were out of place. I was able to forcibly realign one mostly. Against the wishes of, well, everyone there, I decided I would keep on riding.
As I got close to Bethany’s I noticed the front wheel was wobbling. More damage that I hadn’t seen.

I was shaken up and really just wanted to go home. I just wanted to end my five-day Bike Virginia trip after one day.

I set a new personal best for miles ridden in one day: 119.2, and would have gone farther except for the crash. But my bike and I were sore and beat up.

Bethany reminded me that there was a bike store in Charles Town and I took my bike there. It was Three Points Cycle and the manager/owner on duty couldn’t be nicer. He looked at me, still walking in a daze, listened to my story, and told me he grew up in Woodbridge. He attended Gar-Field H.S. He took my front wheel and trued it. No charge. I started feeling better.

But I was still shaken.

It sucks to get hit by a car.

The driver was not charged.

June 17, 2012May 29, 2023

Wendel of York

YORK, PENNSYLVANIA

Before I rode many miles on the road I rode many miles on the trail. I returned to the trail today. It is different than road riding but a more relaxed ride since the only cars one has to worry about are when you cross roads.

York, Pa. is an ancestral home for me. My 5th-great-grandfather, Wendel Laumeister, arrived from Germany aboard the ship Priscilla in Philadelphia in 1750 and settled in York. My 4th-great, Frederick Laumeister, and 3rd-great, George Lowmaster, were born there. George would later leave York and settle in Indiana Co., Pennsylvania.

The York Heritage Trail is a crushed limestone trail that runs next to a rail line
for 21 miles to the Mason Dixon line where it becomes the Torrey C. Brown Rail Trail in Maryland. In Pennsylvania it parallels the former Northern Central Railway but the tracks end at the Maryland line. While signs and some websites warn it is an active railroad, it isn’t. Well, I didn’t expect it to be.

I brought my mountain bike with fat tires although I saw a few road bikes on the trail. None passed me though and there were sections the gravel or sand would have presented some tough steering.

Around Mile 7 I was passed by a maintenance car (speedster) on the track coming from another direction. And a second. And a third. Maybe ten in all. The occupants in the cars didn’t look like railroad workers. And some of the cars looked old while others looked like they just rolled out of the factory. It was a strange site.

The Heritage Trail is a beautiful wooded trail that goes through miles of forest and passes some farmland. Unlike the Great Allegheny Passage which I have ridden many times, there are no stunning vistas looking out over the valleys nor high trestles. There is but one tunnel, the Howard tunnel.

I had gone one mile and realized that my water bottles were on my road bike – back in the van. I worried about riding the entire 42 miles (round trip) but it was cool (60s) when I left so I wasn’t too worried. At 10 miles I passed a bike shop on the trail and knew I could stop there on the way back.

After seeing the bike shop at Seven Valleys, I came upon more potential stops. Glen Rock presented a few places to stop and shop if I wanted to, and New Freedom had a beautifully restored train station with two cabooses, painted in the Pennsylvania Railroad colors. And clean restrooms.

After New Freedom the tracks end and the grade turns down for a mile to the Mason Dixon line. There I turned around to go back.

Back at the Howard Tunnel the speedsters were all stopped and I heard a cyclist ask how one get ride one of those. One of the guys said “you had to buy one of these 18 years ago.”

And thus I learned that the speedsters were all phased out by the railroads, replaced with pickup trucks that run on the rails. Many railroads dumped these cars for $25-$100 just to have someone haul them away. Private individuals bought these cars, refurbished some, and now have organized group rides on railroads. This railroad is perfect since the tracks are still in place but apparently no rail traffic runs on it. It would be interesting to know if they run every Sunday. Note: They were probably members of North Central Railcar Association.

I doubt that I find out. This was a nice trail but not one I would normally plan to return to.

Back in York, I went searching for Christ Lutheran Church. This church, founded in 1733, was one my ancestors were affiliated with. I found it. I walked around a bit, even through the old cemetery which has been encroached by a parking lot.

I don’t know that any of my ancestors are buried there and most of the stones were impossible to read. But it certainly was a nice way to end a bike ride.