Bike Race from Hell
Bike Race From Hell or How not to ride a Century
My first and only ever bicycle race was June 6, 1976 here is my recollection of that memorable day.
Hey Vic, that’s my wife, I just read in the Nevada Daily Mail there is a 100 mile Bicentennial Bicycle Race this coming Saturday. The ride is sponsored by the Nevada Jaycees and the proceeds raised will go toward helping to fund a “Storm Warning” siren system for the community. It further says, ”the route will circumvent Vernon County, starting and ending on the Southside of the square. I wonder? I’m not a bicyclist but I have this Huffy 27” 10 speed road bike which I’ve not really ridden since winning it in a sales contest with Volkswagen USA last year. I’m without a doubt in my best physical condition since my Junior year in high school thanks to my enthusiastic dedication to jogging. Checking in Dr. Cooper’s Aerobics book, it looks like the mileage I’m logging each week jogging cross checked with bicycling I should be able to ride a 100 miles in seven hours. “I bet I can win that race, what do you think, should I do it? Vic replies, “Sure you’re crazy and out of your mind so go for it. By the way did you pay your life insurance premium this month”? Ha, ha! I’ll show her. The minimum amount of money to enter the race is $50.00 I can do that without going out and soliciting donations. Side note, we had only moved to Nevada 5 months earlier and hardly knew anyone in town and I didn’t feel comfortable asking folks for a donation I didn’t even know.
I immediately went out to the garage, took the bike for a quick spin around the block. Came back to the house and announced, “Yep, I can do this but I’ll have to put some foam padding on that seat as it is really uncomfortable”. That should do it. I’ve added about 3” of foam taped in place with duct tape. Went for another quick ride around the block and I was ready for Saturday.
Huffy I rode, 35 years later and I still have it for the memory
Saturday morning I rode my bike to the square, where there were about 25 other folks ready to race. Several had sleek looking road bikes with 21 gears for going fast. Listening to riders chattering the hands on favorite to win today’s race would be one of the two Church of Latter Day Saints missionary boys in their early 20s. I learned these two guys ride 20-25 miles daily. I thought to myself, we’ll see about that.
Riders on your mark get set and bang the starting gun sounded. Wow! The two LDS boys took off like screaming Banshees. There was a third rider right on their heels, the only other guy with a 21 geared road bike. That put me in 4th but well behind the leaders. About 6 miles out I caught up to the 3rd place rider Richard. He was a really nice guy about my age and seemed content to ride with me instead of racing ahead. Over the course of the next 10 miles Richard explained to me I should be shifting to granny (lower resistance) gears for going up hills, which there were many of, then to big ring (higher gears) on the flat stretches. “Gees, thanks that makes it a lot easier and my speed a little faster” I told him. A couple miles later, Richard said he was going to drop back and ride with the pack. Before dropping off he said it was going to be a hot day, over 100, with high humidity. You might think about pacing yourself a little as 100 miles is a long way to pedal a bicycle. “Ok, thanks for all the advice I appreciate it”. As Richard faded back, all I could think about was how far ahead those two LDS guys are now.
Thirty-two miles into the ride the road changed from pavement to gravel. Whoaaa! Gravel sucks my bike wants to go every which way. Thank goodness I used to race motorcycles as I was able to recover from quick slips and slides of the tires on the gravel, much like being on ice. Oh! Oh! A mile or so on this slippy/slidie gravel I see a “Good Ole Boy” in his pick’em-up truck bearing down on me. This is not good. Yikes! The guy came right at me. We had eye to eye contact and I could see a big smile on his face as he forced me off the side of the road to avoid being road kill. Going down all I could think was this is going to hurt.
Slowly I picked myself up, looked down the road to see if the guy stopped. I’m thinking is this guy a crazed Red Neck out of “Deliverance”. I’m out in the middle of no where, can’t see any houses, have numerous abrasions which are full of gravel and blood dripping down my back left shoulder and leg and no one to help me. I’m thinking, this guy might turn around and come back to finish me off, just like happened to Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider. The handlebars of my bike are slightly twisted, which I was able to straighten, but otherwise still ride-able. I better get the hell out of here before the crazy comes back to finish me off with the gun I saw hanging in the back window of his pick-up. The heat dried the oozing blood quickly. My adrenalin was pumping hard and fast so I didn’t think much about my injuries. My concern was to pedal fast as I could to get away. Finally I see a turn marker and I’m back on asphalt, glad to be able to concentrate solely on getting more distance between me and the possibility of seeing the Hillbilly from Hell again.
Another turn and I find myself on the main highway from KCMO to Joplin heading south, cars and trucks are screaming by me. The 18 wheelers were the worse as they roar past the wind draft from their size feels like I’m going to be sucked up into their rear wheels. What a relief, after about 3 miles there is another turn marker going onto another country road, paved this time. I sigh and take a deep breath of relief, glad to be off the highway.
Just up ahead, I see the two LDS riders. One of them is laying on the side of the road and the other standing over him. I slow down and stop my bike as I come up along side them and ask if they are OK? They replied they were OK, but exhausted, thirsty and mighty hot as the temperature is now well over a hundred. They asked if anyone had come by with water. To which I replied “no”. They reminded me the Jaycees had promised to have folks on the route giving us water. They told me they had finished off all the water in their water bottles. I asked, “Water bottles, that’s what those little wire things are for in the center of the frame of our bikes? I’ll be that’s really neat wish I had a water bottle”. To which they look at me like a couple deer in the headlights of an on coming car. “You mean you don’t have any water” they asked in unison. “Yea, I didn’t think about needing water”, I said. Both shook their heads in disbelief. After a couple awkward minutes, maybe moments, staring at me I asked if they were going to continue riding. They said yes but they were going to rest awhile longer and hopefully the Jaycees would show up with the promised water before continuing. I said, “OK, I’m going on”. As I rode away from them I could barely contain my excitement for having caught up with these two and now was the lead rider.
The next twenty miles were a roller coaster of hills and I was getting really tired and thirsty. One of very few cars I saw all day pulled up along side me. It was a reporter for the local newspaper. She wanted to know how I felt about being in the lead at this late stage of the race. Fine but thirsty, my mouth felt like the Sahara desert and my lips were chaffed and my upper body was beginning to sun burn. She apologized she didn’t have any water she could give me as she had given what little she had to the LDS boys who were a couple miles behind me. But she said there was a little town about 2 miles ahead where I’d be able to get water. About then she noticed my bloodied left side and asked, “Oh my God, what happened to you”? I told her. She was all apologetic and sorry for the incident. She knew I was new to the area and stressed that she hoped I didn’t think all folks were like that idiot. It made me feel better and renewed my faith that the move to Nevada, Missouri wasn’t a mistake. With this brief exchange she wished me luck to win the race and told me she was going to turn around go back to the main group of riders as they had decided to stay together. They figured they didn’t stand a chance to win against the LDS boys. After, she pulled away I thought to myself why did most of those guys enter a race without the intent to win?
As I rolled into Schell City, anything but a city by my standards, it looked more like a “Ghost Town” many vacant and run down buildings, looked more like a depression era movie set. It wasn’t until I turned south leaving town there was a gas station open. I stopped went in, didn’t see anyone finally heard some clanking in the service bay area. I leaned in and said, “Hello anyone here”. A guy rolled out from under an old beater of a pick-up truck and asked me what I needed. Change for your pop machine. With this he stood up came into the office area and asked how much change I needed. I said enough to buy a couple soda pops and while you’re at it I’d like to buy one of your Snickers candy bars, too. He said that will be 75 cents. “Seventy-five cents” I asked. “Yea, you said you wanted two pops and a candy bar didn’t you”? Sure. “Well, its 25 cents for the candy bar and another 25 cents each for two pops, and here is your change”. “Oh, thanks. I thought it would cost double that”. To which he replied, “You’re not from around here are you, I can tell from your accent you’re northerner”. What’s with your God awful looking clothes you got on there? “I’m riding the All Vernon County Bicycle Race and I thought this would be comfortable”. “Well you look more like a clown, thought maybe the rodeo was go’in on down in Nevada and ya got lost. I gotta go back to work”. “Ok, thanks”. He went back to work and I chugged my two soda pops and gulped down the candy bar. Whoa! Instant head rush. My throat feels like it has frost bite and I’m a little light headed. I better get on my way before those LDS boys catch up to me.
I ride another 5 miles and another vehicle pulls up to me and the lady on the passenger side asks if I want some water. “Sure”! Turns out her husband Fred is a Jaycee and they are bringing water to the riders. However, they never figured on riders being so spread out. Fred said I must be 10 miles ahead of the main group and maybe a couple miles ahead of the LDS guys. I ask how they are doing. Fred tells me they’re pretty tired but riding. I ask, “How far from Nevada am I”. Fred tells me just under 20 miles. This sends me into a panic, 20 miles to go and the LDS boys are only two miles behind me. I’ve got to dig in and push hard to beat them. I thank Fred and his wife Anna for the water and set off for the finish line. Lots of hills again but I keep a good pace and before long see Nevada in the distance, which gives me the determination to dig a little deeper as I’m not going to lose this race to a couple kids.
I made it! I come rolling up to the Southside of the courthouse lawn exhausted.
- I made it!
No one is here to confirm I’ve won the race, what’s going on, how can this be? I dismount and lay my head over the seat of my bike too weak to think about much. Then the lady reporter, Betty Porkorny and her son Ralph drive up. She declares, “You did it, you won the race. Here I have to get a picture of you for the paper”. After she takes a couple pictures, she begins asking me questions, like how much had I trained for the race? What did I think of the heat and humidity today? I can’t remember what else she asked as I was suddenly too tired to care. I did ask where are the Jaycees? Whose going to declare me the winner of the race? To which she replied, “Oh don’t worry about being the winner the main group is probably still 25 miles out. That’s where the Jaycees are as the group is struggling to finish. The LDS boys are about 10 miles back. There isn’t any doubt you won the race. Do you need anything before I go back out to check how everyone else is doing? Where is your ride”? I told Betty I planned on riding my bike home as it was only a couple miles away. She asked, “You don’t look like you can ride another couple miles, would you like a ride home”? Without hesitation I said, “Oh yea! I’ll be glad to have a ride home”.
Betty pulled into our driveway and stopped. I got out slowly as my muscles were beginning to tighten up and my crash injuries were beginning to smart and I had a pretty good sun burn. As I was taking my bike out of the trunk of her car, Vickie came to the front door, opened it and looked out wondering who was in our driveway. She actually didn’t recognize me until she saw my red and white knee socks with the blue field and white stars at the top. She immediately opened the garage for me and asked, “What happened to you”? You won’t believe it, I replied.
Epilogue: I didn’t die that day as my wife predicted. Looking back on it I certainly could have, Lord was looking after me that day. How crazy is it to ride 100 miles in 100 degree temp with over 80% humidity and no water. Hey, I wasn’t a bicyclist at that time so didn’t have a clue as to how far or hard it was to pedal a 100 miles. My training for this race was a couple loops around the block the week leading up to the race. I do thank God for taking care of me in my stupidity that day. Other items I did not have that day; a helmet. I was mighty lucky when I crashed on the gravel road to have not landed on my head. Gloves would have been nice as I had blisters on both palms by the end of the ride. A bicycle that fit my body would have made riding much more comfortable. I had to stand up to pedal anytime the going got hard, like climbing hills, as I couldn’t quite get a full pedal stroke with my short legs on a 27” bike. Spandex with padding in the butt would have been greatly appreciated, too. The above kept me from riding a bicycle again for nearly 30 years
It still amazes me I managed to live let alone win the All Vernon County Bicentennial Bicycle Race. Additionally, I rode within the time frame I had estimated from reading a book. Time recorded for my ride was 7 hours, 42 minutes as recorded by the reporter when she drove up to the finish line. This time was what the reporter clocked when she drove up shortly after I arrived at the finish line, I didn’t have no stink’in bike computer either, so I was a couple minutes closer to my estimate of 7 hours.
Folks I hope none of you are as foolish, I was did back in 1976, when you ride your first race or Century ride. Let my mistakes guide you as what not to do.
Here's the proof I won and lived
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