Listees,
To pick up where we left off, I must try to convey to those of you who where not present at the symposium how energetic Ted Ernsts' speech was. It was not presented with rigid format, but rather a from the heart and soul of having been there. Ted Ernst rode motor paced races in Europe and had his original steed was on display, along with some vintage parts and accessories from the period. By far the coolest item was Teds' hard leather cycling helmet. Beats the crap out of an old football helmet by several laps of the track. It's hard to imagine the experiences and courage of the "old time racers". Six day races, motor pacing, self-supported Tours De France. Quite a hearty bunch. Ted Ernst and Dave Staub both are the real deal. The enthusiasm of Teds' delivery sent shockwaves of reaction through the crowd. From that point on during the event I would hear comments about how inspiring, interesting, and downright exciting his narrative was. He paused several times to ask if anyone had questions and he fielded them with vigor. NO ONE was left unsatisfied! Ted and Dave especially dished it out; and we sucked it up like spaggetti. I wouldn't mind a second helping of that stuff.
We disbanded so we could head over to Brookside Park to go out for the Saturday ride. Those of us who left the Casita del Arroyo quickly found that some sort of parking lot SNAFU was in progress. Our normal parking area has been usurped and barracaded partially. An attendant is there directing an nonstop line of exiting cars. We're told "cant park here". A whole train of us drive past a huge empty lot where every entrance is chained. We drive to the far end of the place and I talk to another attendant. He knows nothing (including English) but points to a white van nearby and says the spuervisor is in that van. I step on it to hail the van and it takes off. I honk and wave etc. and the van just vanishes. Crap! Back down to out original spot with the whole line behind me now. I jump out of my car and approach the attendant. I give him a "stern sweet talking" ( a technique where the tone of your voice intimates you're pissed off, but you're talking nicely and calmly) which suddenly does the trick. We file in and park. I think this was the largest crowd on the road of the three days. As everyone begins to assemble the day is nothing short of perfect; I think perhaps a change of wind direction had produced a clearer sky than previous days. I've taken the crackpot choice of riding the trike. How could I resist? It really has become a different machine for me since I fitted the triple crank. I can actually get around on it. Prior to very recently, I've probably ridden the trike a total of 35 or 40 miles. I'm still learning how to handle her on the open road. Jeff Groman helped me a bit with cornering tips. Speaking of tips, I did go up on two wheels in one turn and hardley realized it. I prefer to hang my posterior overboard to make the turns. A little more practice and I'll have it. It requires learning to corner with inside pedal sorta down while hanging off in the same direction, which is opposite of a single bike.
We did the "standard" route which is pretty much flat for the first half of the ride. The second part involves some slight uphill terrain, but nothing long or serious really. I was actually able to climb in the large chainring(which is only a 53T) for most of the uphill sections. We stopped at "Bean Town" for our refreshment which was welcomed by all I think, on account of it was quite warm. We have fun sitting around and exchangeing war stories during our brakes. This particular day, as we clog the sidewalk and tables with rows of vintage bikes and vintage bodies; two young (and clearly crazy) girls come barreling down the sidewalk sitting on a runaway skateboard. They blasted through like they were shooting the curl at the Pipeline until they struck a protruding (Matt Gorski) and made a sudden halt. Everyone is stunned and amazed as they continue on, and not a single bike set off the impending domino effect. Close one. We remount and finish the ride with the usual vigor since it's kinda downhillish on the way back. The trike rolls well in 53 x 12 and there is the "Brooklyn finish" comming up as we enter the Rose Bown complex. Another traffic mess is underway as this soccer tournement wreaks havoc on the whole place. We come screaming down this hill and another barricade blocks our passage. Fortunately this time the gatetenders open for us as if someone said "seseme" and we pass. Pergolizzi is there as usual scrambleing for the finish line on his Mario built Masifente. I notice a side opening in the parking lot and whip quick left and I'm thinking "Ha, I snaked 'em, I'll get there first" since they had to go down the road a ways before their left turn. As I'm riding casually thru the parking lot I look to my right to see off in the distance a line of guys going flat out for the line. Holy crap, they're going to kick my ass! I can remember seeing Pergolizzi, Maurice, Alan Schaffer, and I think Mark Petry digging in real hard as they pass me. I show up to the parking area and I must have woke Pergolizzi up from his after ride nap; he was YAWNING as I arrived! John never misses a chance to bust my chops. I was out of gas anyway, but it would have been interesting to see how much cork that pigiron has in a sprint. None of those guys would ever live it down if I took them on in a dash and smoked them! Perhaps it's better I spared them the embarrassment this time; but next year I'll be there.
It's 1:30am, time to cut it off. I'll pick up with dinner at Boca de Beppo (or whatever it is). This is one of the traditional gathering spots for VR. We had the same room we had last year and it was noisy and intimate, if you can imagine that. Dave Staub told a nonstop marathon of stories and played "do you know a guy named so and so" with Peter Johnson and Chuck and probably a few others at the far end of the table. I don't know if Dave actually ate anything, but food was evaporating from down there so something was going on.
Toodles, boys and girls. A little something to read for breakfast.
Brian (getting a new puppy today) Baylis La Mesa, CA Hiding all of the leather cycling shoes before it's too late.