New from Maynard Hershon

I asked Maynard to write some original content for the Earle Wheels Website, and he readily agreed. He wrote a nice piece, much in the vein of columns he has been writing for decades. Any of his regular outlets would have run it without changing a word.

But I am picky, and wanted to coax more out of him. We exchanged a series of emails back and forth, with me suggesting changes and him making some of them. He got closer to what I had in mind, but wasn't there yet. He wrote me saying he had thought of a different approach, and was going to start fresh. I responded with this: How would you feel about a dialog? You write 100 words or so, I respond to it in 100 words or so, and through the exchanges, build the article I want to write, but cannot write alone.

"That's a super idea,"  he responded.

The first installment of that conversation is now spread across five pages of www.earlewheels.com. Please read it and comment.

Self-regulation or County Regulations - We have a choice

http://host.madison.com/news/local/iowa-county-mulls-bicycle-event-ordinance/article_055a5aa7-cc25-52f6-9e3f-eaf3a0377975.html

Iowa County Wisconsin has some of the finest road cycling anywhere, and the cyclists should be smart enough to regulate themselves. But they aren’t. So they face this kind of heat.

Let me explain why: A lot of racer wannabe’s, even some licensed racers, treat large group rides in Wisconsin as closed-road road races, taking over the roads.  I’ve written about it before, as have a lot of other people. The cyclists take up the whole lane, run red lights and stop signs, sometimes even cross the center line into the other lane, even across a double yellow. Certain tough organized rides have become de facto races, with riders looking for a fast time, riding against their friends or their time last year, or some other ideal. And when you get clusters of them together, they forget that they are on open, public roads and need to follow the rules of the road.

Several events every year draw hundreds of bicycles to Iowa County, and the ride organizers don’t always work with local authorities to keep things civil. That leaves the local citizenry angry at the cyclists and angry at the local authorities for not reigning in the cyclists.

The solution should not be a county ordinance restricting rides and making it more expensive to run large events. It should not be incumbent on the local authorities to keep things legal on the road. The organizers of the rides should take care of enforcement themselves.

Here’s my modest proposal: For the big rides, the Horribly Hilly Hundreds, the Dairyland Dare and the Wright Stuff Century, get some more volunteers, or even paid workers. Maybe work with a motorcycle club to exchange support for one of their events. However it is done, get a lot of eyes on the road – at controlled intersections, curvy downhills and other spots where cyclists abuse their right to be on the road. When a cyclist runs a red light, blatantly crosses a center line or rides 3 or more across the road, take their number, call ahead to the next check point, and when the offending rider pulls in, take his/her number, wrist band and/or timing chip.

“Sorry, you violated the rules of the ride that you agreed to, you are off the ride.” Any official record of the ride should list the rider as “Did not finish, violated road rules.”

For smaller rides, agree ahead of time that there is a responsible ride captain. The ride captain and a second keep an eye on the group, and should a rider get out of line, send that rider home.

We as cyclists HAVE to be good citizens on the road. It does not take much for a motorist to have a “tragic accident” and kill a cyclist or two or ten, and probably get away with a slap on the wrist. We owe it to ourselves to obey the rules of the road, especially when there is a huge mob that can get away it, this time. That’s because some county is going to decide this time is the last time and make it really tough to have a ride with even three people in it.

Bicycle: Art Meets Form and High Point Cycling Classic

Over a six-day weekend, I drove 26 hours to and from High Point, North Carolina, for an event that combined a gallery show of bicycle art, a huge gathering of outstanding classic bicycles and the National Criterium Championship. It was worth all of the time and expense and then some.

I was reminded after decades on not seeing him that Bill Humphreys is one of the really nice guys in bike racing. He is the antithesis of the guys he talked about who had big egos that would make them inaccessible to those of us who were new to the sport and would never make it as racers.

Bill had been friendly and helpful years ago, and when I stumbled road weary into the bar at the High Point Plaza Thursday night, he introduced himself and ended up sitting and talking instead of retiring to his room with his take-out dinner.

Bill's book, The Jersey Project, illustrates much of the last fifty years of bicycle racing with hundreds of images of bicycle jerseys. Here is a link: http://thejerseyproject.com/index.php

I also cannot overstate the generosity of the locals, not only Chip Duckett and Dale Brown, but everybody I had contact with.

I was struck at breakfast one morning as a tablemate was trying to calculate the tip. “Twenty five percent of this breakfast is still too little.”  The waitresses were invariably cheerful, put up with random tablehopping and poured gallons of coffee as we sat and talked away the mornings.

The staff at the gallery and the showplace not only granted every request, but also went beyond, looking for things that could make the whole experience easier and more fun.

Tangling with a turkey

I had a turkey knock me off my bike last night riding through the UW Arboretum.

The immediate cause was a young wild turkey in the road, but I was prepared to handle that. I ride a lot in the Arb, and know about the flocks of wild turkeys. I have seen as many as a dozen at a time, and have never before gotten mixed up with them.

No, the turkey who took me down was one of those guys who buys an expensive bike, thinks he knows how to ride and gets himself and other people in trouble.

About a mile before, the wheeled turkey was overtaking a couple who were riding slowly side-by-side. I was coming up faster than everybody, but slowed down to see what was going to happen. Turkey, without looking back, sudden swung wide of the couple, crossed the double yellow into the oncoming lane and went around the couple without saying a word. I passed them and said, "good evening," and they continued on their way, riding in a straight, predictable line. There was plenty of room for all of us in the road.

Turkey, again without looking back, swung wildly back into the lane, which I kind of figured he would do, so I had hung back. I watched him for a few yards, and he was weaving back and forth across the road, not holding a line, but also not getting too close to the lane marker. When he weaved toward the curb, I accelerated past him, leaving about a foot and a half between us, but not saying anything. He looked over as I past and said "Jesus Christ." OK, I should have said, "On your left," but I figured that would have been his cue to swerve left, so I just went to the far left edge of the lane and got around him as quickly as I could. This was on an easy rise, but he fell quickly behind.

Down the treed hill just before the houses, I noticed the rain had washed a lot of sand into the road, so I did not go full speed. As I went up the first rise in the housing section, it looked like Turkey was riding fast and trying to catch me. OK, the road gets safer when it flattens out and straightens out, and maybe I should explain myself, I thought. Once I talk to him, I can soft pedal on the flats and let him ride away.

I did not get that chance, though. In the road ahead of me, there were three young wild turkeys spread across the road. All of them were facing my left, and seemed to be moving that way, so I went to the right edge of the road and slowed down. The wild turkeys ambled left, and it looked like we were all going to avoid mixing.

But here comes Two-wheel Turkey!

Coming up way too fast, he must be sure he is going to catch me and pass me. He splits the flock, with one turkey cut off from the others by his huge buzzing interloper (what the turkey sees when he sees "bike"), and that panicked bird bolts, taking my front wheel out from under me.

[Insert your favorite expletives here, with a couple of exclamation points.]

Turkey turned around and came back, asking if I was OK, as I bled from elbow and knee.

"I'll be OK." I actually tried to tell him about his passing dangerously earlier, but he was so sure he was right, I just shut up. I found his intellect to be about equal to a smart, 9-month-old dog. Eager to please but clueless.

"Do you want me to ride with you a little ways to see if you are OK?"

"No, I am fine." But if you keep talking at me without acknowledging what a mess you created, I'm going to explode, I thought. He had the sense to go on about his way, and I rode back home through the Arb.

Inspection showed a broken helmet, so after I cleaned up the road rash, I went to the emergency room, where I spent almost four hours to find out that I had no brain damage and I had done a reasonable job cleaning up the road rash. Bike is a little scuffed up, and should get new brake lever hoods, but they can wait. Helmet did its job, so needs to be retired.

All told, a very minor accident. But it should not have happened. Anybody who has ever watch a flock of turkeys could have known, SHOULD have known that you don't split up the flock, or they scatter and panic. If Two-wheel Turkey had just slowed down for a minute and followed me past them, nobody would have gotten hurt. And Turkey might be known by some other name.