My first blog - cycling

I am rather new to blogging, but I'm told all the cool people have them. My girl has one and she is into research and cycling. I'm Holly's Dad if you hadn't figured it out. My girl races bicycles; on the road, time trials, criteriums and at the velodrome. I absolutely love watching her and her partner race. They now inspire me to get more fit.

As a kid growing up in Northern Michigan, I could only dream of racing in the Olympics of maybe one day, the Tour de France. My family didn't have lots of money and bikes were usually handed down from big brother to little brother. Somehow, I got a new bike one year (I think I was 5 because I wasn't in school yet), but my dad refused to put training wheels on it. I had to learn the hard way.
One of my brothers told me that if I got up enough speed, I couldn't fall over. As I idolized my big brothers, I believed him and pushed my new bike up the little hill behind my house. It must have worked because I don't remember falling off. And in case you were wondering, yes, I do remember every time I fell off!
I discovered that with a bike, my boundaries grew. I could now get to the shops and back all by myself! I could visit my friends way on the other side of town - nearly 3 blocks away!
By the time one of my brothers hit high school and got his drivers license, he was willing to "hand down" his bike. It was a "Sting Ray" with a big "sissy bar", a banana seat and, wait for it, 3 speeds! 3 speeds on a twist grip shifter! This was the "way too cool" bike to have, it even had hand brakes! I was thrilled he was going to give it to me.
But there was a catch - he would give it to me for the sum of $30.00. I only earned $2.50 a week for doing dishes, it was going to take me three months AT LEAST to get his bike, but I wanted it bad, and eventually ended up with it.
It was the bike I always wanted and I rode it everywhere. All the other kids only had "one speed" bikes with coaster brakes, so I thought it was the best bike ever.
My love for speed only grew, and while I had a three speed bike, I still had to get off and push the bike up hills so I could coast down. The bigger the hill the better. The bike had a speedometer and on the flat I could get this little 20 inch bike up to almost 20 miles per hour - almost 30 km/h! No helmets in those days, buck-o!
My first real prang was in 1967 I think. I was dared to ride my bike down Church Hill, a big sand hill behind the local Methodist church (hence it's name). Apparently no one had ever done this before. So, being all male and everything, I dragged my three speed way-to-cool bike up the hill and got ready for the ride of my life. Being sand, I had to sit way back on the seat to keep the front wheel from digging in. (This would be an important point to remember in a few moments...) Anyway, I was off and really picking up speed and fast! The sitting back thing was really working, I was going to be the first to do this!!!
This ride only took seconds, but it seemed to take forever, but I rapidly approached the bottom and I needed to slow down or I was going to impale the back of the church. Which was the back brake? OOPS, got the front one, not the back, DAMN! In a split second, I buried the front wheel and my backside followed my head into the sand. It was just like on the cartoons but not funny for me. My face planted into the sand (up to my ears) and my ass(arse) folded over and smacked the back of my head! I then must have rolled out (micro-seconds here) and ended up face up trying to spit out sand and re-catch my breath having had the wind knocked out of me.

One of the neighbours that lived near the church was watching this and yelled out to me "Are you alright?" I wasn't but I also couldn't say anything so I raised my hand and gave a feeble wave (like "No, I'm dying here.." but he just went back into his house. The bike suffered a but though. No bends, but the sand got into the gears, and after a little more riding, they were cactus. I tried to rebuild them, but when all the ball bearing fell out that was it. I was bike-less.

By the time I was in high school, I got a used 26 inch bike. Single speed, balloon tyres, coaster brakes. It wasn't fast or cool. Fortunately I managed to hold down two jobs. One was assembling and road testing bikes at the local hardware store. This is where I saw and rode my very first "racing bike". Made by Schwinn, these were the coolest bikes EVER! Just like the real racers rode. Skinny seat, dropped bars, hand brakes and 10 speeds. Heavy drool factor here.
But for me, the bike I had was probably the best I could ever hope for. Mom and Dad just didn't have the money for a bike for me, but I also had a job at the ice cream parlour (Diary King I think).

While working at the hardware and making ice cream cones, I could earn enough money to at least modify my old bike somewhat. First thing I bought were dropped racing handlebars. I then added a speedo, a skinnier seat, and lastly, a narrow front tyre and somehow a hand brake for the front wheel. This was a cool bike, and I rode everywhere. One weekend, on a Saturday, I remember I rode 64 miles! This was the "Tour" to me. I got some severe cramps that night. Back then we didn't do stretches and cool downs.

On day I rode to the beach (7th street beach near Frankfort where I grew up) and there was a really big hill that went down to the beach. I was fairly moving down the hill and was literally laying flat with my legs sticking out to minimize wind drag. I looked at the speedo which was really shaking and I was doing over 55mph! That's about 88 km/h in Australian terms. I was moving but realized that my wheels were not balanced. It could have been the "goop" in the tyres to keep from getting flats...

I also used to see how fast I could pedal on the flat. Going home from work it was 2 miles between Frankfort (where I worked) to Elberta (where I lived) . At my "peak", I could ride that 2 miles in 4 minutes. I had somehow managed to tape a stop watch to my handle bars. It was an old Heuer with hands even - no digital watches in the "olden days". I still have that watch, though it doesn't work anymore.

One day, I rode over to the bakery to flirt with Zena Stubbs, high school cheerleader and 2 years my senior. As a hormonal teenager, she was hot! I wanted a donut and had 50 cents in my pocket, so I figured "what the heck". Donut and chocolate milk, ten cents change. I used to have "ape hanger" handle bars (like on a chopper) and I had a habit of riding up to the curb, popping a wheelie and then ride into the bike rack outside the police station next to the bakery. Unfortunately for me, I hadn't tried this with the new dropped bars. It was next to impossible to "wheelie" with these as all my weight was over the wheel. Front wheel stopped, back wheel didn't, sound familiar? I ended up in a heap on the sidewalk with people stepping over me going about their business. Talk about the concern for your fellow man in a small town...

I continued on to the bakery for aforementioned donut and choc milk and a flirt with Zena. She was concerned and told my in her best caring voice "You could be killed..." I reassured Zena that "I was never hurt on a bike...." Never, ever, say never.

That night, June 22nd, 1972, while riding my bike home from work I was hit by a 1966 Pontiac and put into hospital for the next two weeks. I broke both hands, had more road rash than I care to ever see again and severely bruised my right leg which later needed surgery. This really ruined my 10th grade year at high school. The bike was finished. I only have one photo of it, posted here.

That is more than enough for MY first post. Holly and Clare, you are my idols...