4th Annual Ironspoke Bicycle Ride
“That’s it! I’m done!”
“Calm down. You do this every year,” said my wife.
She was right. I do this every year. I get mad and then I get over it.
I organize a bicycle ride on the first Saturday after the first day of spring. Last year it snowed and I went myself. One of the frustrating things is that the people I invite to participate are all mostly non- cycling friends of mine. All of them look at cycling as an afterthought. If they get a ride in that’s great but they certainly wouldn’t think of riding in total garbage conditions or even for that matter putting it on their family calendar two months ahead of schedule. If it happens so be it. In other words they are not as passionate about cycling as me.
But then it all seems to come together at the last minute and those who do show end up having a good time. Mind you that some of the guys who I manage to drag out will ride their bike this one time, and then not again until the next year. Yeah…I know. Can you believe only riding your bike once a year?
The day starts with my buddy Tom calling me at 7am and asking if we are still on as the current temperature was hovering at 24 degrees.
“Dude, there is no such thing as inclement weather. There is only not being properly dressed,” I say.
“I guess we’re still on,” he says with a laugh.
Tom is a first timer. He doesn’t own a bike. I’ve tried to lend him one of mine so we could ride on several occasions but inevitably we run in to hockey practice, birthday parties, various family functions, vacations, conflicting work schedules, etc. But he is anxious to go and a little early morning cold weather isn’t going to stop him.
I drive Fred and Dave over to my folk’s house and we meet Tom there who is already waiting. It’s going to be a perfect day for the four of us. Four suburban dads riding bikes in and around the city of Pittsburgh. We are greeted by my parents and my dad keeps telling me that I should reconsider the route for the guys. Too many hills he says.
“Dad, I know where I’m taking them,” I say as I busily ready for the ride.
“Maybe you should take a vote,” he asks.
“We’re not taking a vote!”
I recognize the fact that the three guys I’m taking on this ride are not exactly hard core bike riders (one rides two or three times a year, the other rides maybe a dozen times and the other would be on the bike for the first time ever) but the fact remains that these guys are all in relatively decent shape and a little physical exertion is just what a group of 40 year old guys need every once in a while.
After fumbling with the pedals on the bike Tom would be riding, getting my Camelback loaded with some last minute tools and figuring out clothing options for a very cold morning that would eventually turn into a 50 degree early afternoon, we take off down Joyce Drive.
We ride back Pittview and look out over Pittsburgh as well as Lawrenceville. I notice that Tom’s seat needs adjusted and have him pull over so I could show him how to work the quick release. His legs weren’t extended as much as they should be. I also notice his cadence. He’s riding with the fast spinning motion of Lance.
“You figure out those gears yet?” I ask Tom.
“Yeah.”
“What about the brakes?”
“I’m alright,” he says.
“They working good?”
It’s at that moment that I make the hard right turn down Logan. Nothing like getting your heart pumping with adrenaline right off the bat. I fly down the hill probably quicker than I normally would have, but it feels great. Then suddenly I hit a filled-in pothole and get a bit of air. My water bottle disengages from the frame and bounces down the street right next to me. I look down to my right and see it keeping pace with me. I think of that scene from “Rat Race” when Whoopie Goldberg is driving in that rocket car and she is watching the bullet fly right beside her.
Well having this thing bounce under my wheels would not be a good thing so I immediately put on the brakes and squelch what would have been an amazingly fast descent of Logan. As I pull off to the side I see Tom come down the hill with one foot close to the ground.
“This is insane!” he yells.
“You’re doing great!”
Just get down without wrecking and we’ll be in good shape, I think to myself. A crash by the first timer within the first 5 minutes on one of the steepest hills in the city would not be a good thing.
Once we all make it safely down Logan the next step is to cross Rt. 28 and get on to the rail trail. Pay no attention to the cars speeding off the overpass. They stop most of the time for cyclists. Mission accomplished.
As we ride along the river it just looks like a near perfect morning. No doubt it’s a bit on the cold side but the Crew Clubs are out in full force and that makes for some nice scenery. As we pedal along they glide up and down the river. In no time we find ourselves nearing the city and as we approach under the bridges I realize that this is a view of Pittsburgh that few actually take the time to see. Sure we’ve all driven our cars over the bridges and looked at the sights but unless you get out of your car and move in and around the city on these trails you will never really get to see it all.
We stop for a few pics at the stadium.
We cross the Clemente Bridge.
As we enter the city we pass a couple of younger guys wearing Flyer jerseys (they’re in town playing the Penguins at the Igloo) and I almost yell something disparaging at them but change my mind. In and out of traffic we weave. Some flow better than others. There seems to be a lot of it (traffic) for a Saturday morning. Eventually we find the County Jail and the Eliza Furnace Trail.
As we make our way down to the Hot Metal Bridge and cross into the South Side, I finally decide it’s time for a vote.
“You guys want to take the trail or the street back down to the city?”
No one seems to have a preference so East Carson Street it is. Tom takes the lead on the trip back into Pittsburgh. I notice he is getting bolder on the bike. Suddenly, he pretty flagrantly blows off a red light. The driver of the car doesn’t look too pleased.
“You better be cool about that,” I say thinking more about the potential future impact of an angry driver compared to our safety that day.
So wouldn’t you know as we get to the next light he does it again, only this time there really aren’t any cars to contend with at all. But there are two Pittsburgh Bicycle Police. Oh shit. I’d heard of them giving tickets. Nothing happens.
We make our way over the Smithfield Street Bridge, after a brief stop at Station Square, and back into town. I jump a curb. I suddenly hear and feel some crazy bad things coming off of my rear wheel. I pull over and notice that one of the dozen or so curb jumps from today finally made the wheel develop a bit of a flat spot. Shit!
After surmising that the rear brake on my Panasonic can no longer be used I get in survival mode. It’s probably a good 5 miles to my folk’s house from there and it’s all basically uphill. I don’t need two brakes anyway.
We cross over the 16th Street Bridge and head over to the Heinz Plant. We take the pedestrian bridge over to the Allegheny Brewery and find ourselves at the foot of Troy Hill Road. I lay down my bike and looked for something to try and hit the rim with so as to smooth out the kink in the hoop. Nothing. It’s still holding air so really that is the most important thing.
We start up Troy Hill Road and I ride at the back of the pack with Tom trying to offer him some encouragement. Dave and Fred pull out a head. I say to Tom that I still think his cadence is too fast. If he slowed it down he would still be able to get from point A to point B but this way he would save some much needed energy for the climbs.
We make it to the top. Only a couple more hills to go. Eventually we get to my parents house. The last sprint up Joyce Drive is a bit harsh but that burn feels extra good.
The day ends with some hot wedding soup on my parents porch. A bit under 18 miles. One busted rear wheel. Some laughs. Some nice riding. And next year we hit Sycamore. Even if I have to do it myself.
