Stan’s Obligatory Blog

August 21, 1977 was the day that I finally made Category 2. The race was in Waterville, Maine. It was the finish line the Maine International Bicycle Race, which was a rarity in that it was a true point-to-point road race. It began near the Canadian border and traveled south for 100-mumble miles to the finish in Waterville. But because just watching a pack of sweaty bike riders roll into town and sprint for the finish isn’t terribly exciting for the locals, the organizers also held a Junior race in town for the spectators. The race was a criterium around downtown Waterville, and it was 25 miles, which was long for a Junior race. Most were 10-15 miles. So I wanted to ride it, since I usually did better in longer races.

I got the use of the car for the weekend and set out looking for some other riders to come along. My friend Cary wanted to go. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a driver’s license. It was about a seven-hour drive from New Jersey in those days with the 55mph speed limit, and I wanted to find someone who could share the driving. So my other friend Gene came in. He had his learner’s permit, which meant he could drive if another licensed driver (me) was in the car. So this was good enough for us. And it’s probably best that we never stopped to think whether or not this was also going to be legal in the five other states we would be passing through to get there.

So Gene and Cary came to my house and we loaded up the car. Two bikes went on the roof rack, and the third was stuffed under the hatchback. With all our stuff, there was barely room for the three of us in the car.

The ride up to Maine was pretty uneventful. When we got there, it was night, and we went looking for a place to stay. We picked a motel and Gene and I went in to see about getting a room. The manager was suspicious, and kept asking us if we had any girls with us. We told him we were there for the bike race, and pointed to the car outside with the bikes on the roof. So he let us have a room.

We unloaded the car and started getting our bikes ready for the race when there was a knock on the door. The manager had decided to come and check again to see if we had any girls with us. Since we’d told him that there were just two of us, Cary grabbed his bike and went to stand in the shower with it while the manager came in. He looked at the bikes, wheels, and racing clothes strewn around the room and he was satisfied.

Our next priority was finding something to eat. Cary wanted to have something good, and not fast food. So we ended up at the only ‘nice’ restaurant in sight. The Silent Woman was the place, and we looked pretty out-of-place in there. It was all adults and families, and a trio of teenage boys looked pretty odd there. But the food was good, so we were happy.

The last priority was deciding how to divvy up the two beds. As you might imagine, this was a gravely important task for teenage boys. We drew lots, and I won. So I got a bed to myself while the other guys had to share.

In the morning, we headed over to the race. The course was pretty nice. It was basically triangular, with two long straights and a wide hairpin turn at one end. There was a slight grade, but nothing worth getting excited about. There was also a tremendous hole in the road that was marked off with sawhorses and cones. The race had a pretty good turnout, and the pack stayed together for about half the race. Then a breakaway formed. I don’t remember how it started, but I managed to get in it. There were three of us, and we got a good lead on the pack. We managed to stay away to the finish, and I didn’t even contest the final sprint. So I came in third, which was the finish that put me over the top for my Category 2 upgrade.

My goal for the year had been to make Category 2. I had one first-place finish, a fourth-place finish, sixth place in Rahway in July, and sixth place in Pittsburgh. So with this third place finish I met the requirements for my upgrade. That was the thing I was most excited about. My actual prize for the day was a pair of pedals and a little silver-plate trophy bowl.

I used the pedals for many years until they broke from metal fatigue. But I still have the little bowl. And the memories of that day. It was a fun time.

Today’s ride was the Toluca Lake Inverse route, which is basically the same as the regular route, but done backwards. Things always look different when you’re going the other way.

We started out going south into San Marino, and then across South Pasadena and into Highland Park. I saw a pair of abandoned couches on Ave 50.

The Los Angeles River had a lot of water in it today. Especially for August in the driest recorded year ever. It’s not clear where the water is coming from, but it may be runoff from lawn watering. Whatever it was, it looked weird to see that much water going down the river.

When we got to Priscilla’s, we got our usual snacks and drinks. It was nice in the shade there.

Coming home, we did the route across Glendale on Glenoaks, and then up Verdugo to Hospital Hill. Then home by the usual route on Woodbury and New York Drive.

45 miles.
cycling

I got a chance to do two rides this weekend, so the Saturday ride was out to La Verne and back.

We met at Library Park in Monrovia and headed east from there. In Duarte, we were treated to the sight of a helicopter being used as a crane. It was lifting a series of large boxes from the parking lot up to the roof of the building.

We rode pretty much straight east, all the way across Glendora and San Dimas, where we turned and rode up San Dimas Canyon Road. Then we made a loop up in the hills, coming out right next to Live Oak Reservoir. I’d never seen it in daylight before, but I recognized it immediately. Back in 1978, when I raced with the Claremont cycling team, we used to to evening workouts on the road around that reservoir. We rode our track bikes, and we did intervals, time trials, and practice races. The thing I always remember about those times was how our coach, Steve, used to ride with us. When we got going fast, he always looked like he was going to die. His face was red, and he was sweating hard. But he always beat us in the final sprint. He had ridden on the 1968 Olympic team, so he was actually a very good rider.

After passing the reservoir, we dropped down a very steep hill. Gene said that he got up to just over 48mph on it. Then we rode into La Verne and stopped in the nicely shaded patio at Coffeeberry.

On the way back, we took the direct way. It was very hot by then, so we stopped for water several times. At the Santa Fe Dam Nature Center, we saw a number of oddly-placed stuffed birds. There was also a stuffed bobcat. Outside, we saw a roadrunner go by, so not all the birds there were dead and stuffed.

The last funny thing we saw was the car in Duarte with the two Hello Kitty dolls strapped to the front like so many dead deer.

It was an amusing and fun ride.

55 miles.
cycling

Here’s a picture from last week when we visited:

Now here’s a picture of me riding on about the same spot on the track, back in 1979:

Those trees next to the track are a lot bigger now, nearly 30 years later.

In one respect this is a good thing, since now the backstretch is shaded, and riders are not blinded by the setting sun. But on the other hand, that used to be my favorite place to attack, since everyone was blinded by the setting sun…

Route map

Since I was back in the office on Wednesday, I went for a bike ride with Vikki at lunchtime. She was decked out in her new pink Fat Cyclist jersey. It was hot, and we did the Arcadia loop, since that’s a relatively flat and easy ride. Nothing remarkable happened, aside from seeing a pair of deer on the road in Sierra Madre, and the fact that I got a flat right after that.

Tuesday was the last day of our trip, and I had one more thing on my list to see. Since I had to be in New Jersey, I couldn’t miss the chance to visit Hillside Cemetery in Lyndhurst and pay respects to Joey Ramone. I’ve been a big Ramones fan for almost 30 years, so it was a necessary stop.

Chelsea* directed us to the cemetery. Then I stopped in the office to get the exact directions. The woman working there was very helpful, and she said that Joey Ramone was probably the most famous and most-requested person buried there. She told me to go to the northernmost road through the Jewish section of the cemetery. Then look for the two pillars marked “New York Social Club”. Joey is buried three rows back in that section, right next to his mother.

After that, we went down to Liberty State Park in Jersey City. Since we’d missed the Statue of Liberty on Monday, I found out that we could just make it there if we made the 12:45 boat out to the island. So we got on the boat and rode out to the statue. We didn’t have time to stop off at Ellis Island, since we had to make our flight home at 6:00. But Lucinda got to see the statue close-up, which was the whole point.

When we got back to shore, we headed over to the airport. We got there early to check in our rental car, since we’d been told we’d have to fill out an accident report. The guy who checked us in looked at the car and just said something like, “it looks fine to me” and we were done.

So we had plenty of time to have lunch while we were waiting. Then we got on the plane for the trip home. Newark is apparently notorious for delays around that time of day, and today was no exception. We left the gate about 30 minutes late, and we actually took off 90 minutes late. There was a huge backlog of planes that apparently were all scheduled to take off at 6:00.

Once we got in the air, the trip home was just fine. When we were going over New Mexico and Arizona, there were some big electrical storms below us, and it was interesting to watch the lightning from above. I tried taking pictures of it, but it was hard to do it justice.

Overall, it was a pretty fun trip.

* The GPS navigator unit offered a choice of several different voices. But Lucinda didn’t like the ‘American English’ one, since when it said ‘left’, it always sounded like ‘bleft’. So we switched it to ‘British English’, which sounded much more cultured and mannered. And that was when Lucinda decided to call it ‘Chelsea’.

Monday was our day for sightseeing New York City. We rode the train in and met Cathy’s cousin Michelle and her family at Penn Station. Then we all rode the F train up to 63rd St and Lexingon, and then walked over to Central Park.

When we got to the park, Lucinda wanted to climb the big outcrops of Manhattan Schist there.

Since we had only limited time, I wanted to go to the model boat pond to show Lucinda the statue of Alice in Wonderland there. I used to like climbing on that when I was a kid, so I thought she might like it, too. Lucinda figured this out. When we were going there, when I told her about the statue and how I liked to climb on it, she said, “So you want me to climb it so you can take a picture, right?” Our child is very perceptive.

After seeing the pond, Lucinda and Christina wanted to go to one of the playgrounds for a while. Then we walked back to Lexington Ave and got on the #6 train downtown to Grand Central. Then we took the shuttle train over to Times Square and then the #1 down to South Ferry. That’s the station that is built on a sharp curve, so there are little hydraulically-activated metal platforms that move out to meet the train doors.

When we got up to Battery Park, we found that we were too late for the ferry to the Statue of Liberty. So we just walked around the park a bit. We saw a wild turkey there. Apparently, there is a population of wild turkeys living in Manhattan now. We thought that this was kind of strange, but after seeing the bear in New Jersey, we were ready to believe just about anything. Since turkeys are not good fliers, the speculation is that they walked in over one of the bridges, which is a funny mental image.

The final stop for the day was the East Village to visit with my old friend Thaddeus. I’ve known him for about 35 years now, ever since my mother was his high-school guidance counselor. And somehow, we’ve kept in touch all these years. This was the first time I’ve seen him in many years, so we got to meet his wife and daughter for the first time. We all went out to dinner at a little Latin American restaurant across the street from their house. I was amazed at how the neighborhood along Houston St has changed over the years. I always remember it as being a place where there were groups of homeless huddled for warmth around flaming trash cans. Now it’s really quite nice there.

So, aside from missing the Statue of Liberty, we had a nice day.

Finally, I have a photo from the pond in Central Park. It’s my latest Canon commercial. Have I mentioned recently that my camera rocks?

Did you know that there are wild bears in New Jersey? I didn’t. We were going out to visit my old high school friend Steve on Friday afternoon. He and his family live in the far suburbs of Sussex County. We were going down a semi-rural road when Cathy said, “I just saw a bear.” I didn’t believe her, since seeing a bear in New Jersey seemed about as likely as seeing Bigfoot or Elvis. But she insisted that it was really a bear. So we went back to look. And there it was, just ambling across someone’s front lawn. I grabbed the camera and got a quick photo before it strolled off into the woods.

When we got to Steve’s house, his wife Kris told us that the bears are common knowledge around there. But they are not particularly abundant. She said that she’s seen them on just a few occasions in the 16 years they have been living there. So we were lucky to have seen it. With the bear we saw last year at Lake Tahoe, we’ve now seen a wild bear while on vacation for two years in a row.

We had a nice time visiting, and Lucinda had fun playing with their kids. Pictures are in our photo album.

Months ago, when Cathy told me she wanted to do this trip to New Jersey, I told her that there were two things that I absolutely had to do while we were there:

• See the Hall of Dinosaurs at the American Museum of Natural History;
• Go watch the bike races at Kissena Velodrome.

So Wednesday was our day for these things.

The plan was to drive the car out to Queens and park it for the afternoon at a garage in Forest Hills, which is near the velodrome. Then we could take the E train into Manhattan and go to the museum. This way we could go to the bike races at 6:30 without having to drive very far in NYC traffic.

Wednesday morning, a storm moved through the area and it rained. By the time we were ready to go, it was clear, and a reasonably nice day, so we didn’t really think that much of it. But it turned out that the storm dumped about three inches of rain in two hours, which is a remarkable amount by New York standards.

So we headed out. The trip over to Queens was fine, and we got the car stowed. But when we got to the subway, they said that the tunnel was flooded, and there were no trains into Manhattan. Instead, we had to take a train out to Jamaica and then transfer to the J train to Broadway in Brooklyn. Then we had to take the A train into Manhattan. So what should have been about a 30-minute subway ride turned into almost two hours of riding in stifling hot and crowded trains.

But we finally made it there. We met my old friend Gordon there, and we had a fun time looking at the dinosaurs.

When it was time to go, I decided to assume that the flooded tunnel was fixed in time for the evening rush. We rode the C train down to 42nd St to get the E out to Queens. But they said that the tunnel was still flooded. So instead, we had to walk over to 7th Ave and take the #7 train. The train was crowded, and the air conditioner was broken, so it was very unpleasant. We had to ride it out to 74th St in Queens, and then transfer downstairs to a shuttle train out to Forest Hills. This took a bit over an hour.

We finally made it to the car, and we drove out to Kissena Park. The velodrome has been repaved, and it looks pretty nice. It’s much better than it was back in the ’70s. There we no cracks in the pavement with weeds growing out of them, and they’d even shaved off the big hump in the last turn.

I talked to some of the racers, and I took lots of pictures. It was a fun time.

Then we headed home. We were all in agreement that the day had been quite the trying ordeal. And then it got worse. We got rear-ended on the Cross Bronx Expressway. The car in front of us had to stop. I hit the brakes hard enough to feel the anti-lock take over, but we managed to stop in time. The guy behind us stopped in time, and we thought we were all right. But then a fourth guy in a Toyota minivan plowed into all three of us.

And this was where the real ordeal began.

There was no visible damage to our car or the one in front of us. The Pathfinder behind us had minimal damage, and the front of the minivan was destroyed. A tow truck and the fire department arrived almost immediately. They set out flares and told us to stay there until the NYPD arrived to make a report.

So there we were, standing in the left land on the Cross Bronx Expressway, in stifling heat, with irate New York drivers screaming at us as they passed. I’ve mentioned before that I think that standing on the train station platforms in the middle of the freeway in L.A. is hellish, but this was far, far worse. Yup, just the way I wanted to spend my vacation time.

Nobody was hurt, so the paramedics left. But while we were waiting for the police to arrive, there was a second accident about 50 yards back up the road from us. A driver had been hit sideways by a truck. So the paramedics came back, and they ended up treating the driver on the scene.

When the police arrived, they noted the positions of everything and then stopped traffic so we could drive off the road and so the tow trucks could tow the damaged van off the road. Then we all sat on the side of road for another 45 minutes while they took down all the information for the report.

You can see the scene in Google Maps. We were in the left lane on the westbound side of the road. When we moved off the road, we were standing on the triangle of bare dirt next to the Jerome Ave exit:

maps.google.com/?ie=UTF8&ll=40.845285,-73.912612&spn=0.001234,0.002097&t=k&z=19&om=1

We ended up having to be there for almost two hours before we could leave. By this time, we all agreed that it had been the Worst. Day. Ever.

All of the pictures from that day are here in our photo album.

It was August 7, 1977, and I rode a race in Pittsburgh, PA. The race was in Schenley Park, across the street from Carnegie-Mellon University. The course had a straight uphill stretch along the edge of the campus. There was a right turn at the top and short level stretch. Then a long downhill with big, sweeping switchback turns. At the bottom it met up with the uphill back to the finish line. I was riding in Juniors at the time, so the race would have been something like 15 miles.

The course was nice. I particularly remember the downhill as being very exciting. The road was a bit rough, and going around the turns at high speed was great fun for a 17-year-old.

Somewhere along the way, two guys broke away. I missed that, but I managed to make it into the second breakaway. There were four of us, and we got a good gap on the pack. The downhill was faster for the four of us than it was for the pack, since we didn’t have to slow down for the turns.

At the finish, I just coasted across the line. I figured I couldn’t do worse than 6th place, and that was good enough for points toward my Category 2 upgrade.

This race meant that I had one first-place finish, a fourth-place finish, and with sixth place in Rahway in July, I had two sixth-place finishes. So now I just needed one more top-six finish to get Category 2.

I have no pictures from that day, and I don’t even remember what my prize was. But I do remember it as a very fun day.