Race Chronicles September 1999

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RACE CHRONICLES:
Gallipoli; Burger Days; Prairie Wars and Massacre at Ft. Ben

September 6, 1999
by Bill Stone

As you know Winston Churchill took the heat for the failed campaign at the Straits of the Dardanelles and this failed Gallipoli campaign cost him his place in the Government. That the blame was not in the plan but in the execution by reticent Army and Navy leaders was quite correctly of no moment. Churchill accepted this inexorable fact of political life and properly never recanted the brilliance of the plan even though it haunted him in subsequent elections. What you may not know is that after resigning from the government he went to France, and fought in and not behind the trenches. No doubt you have already contrasted his actions with the Dan Quayles of modern American politics, viz., men who claim the courage of Roman Legions but who in fact used all their inherited wealth and power to avoid ever having to look down the barrel of a working weapon and who saw and see nothing wrong with sending minorities to fight to preserve their privileges. No doubt the dubious Samuel Hoare has also come into your thoughts. Hoare was a Minister in the governments of Stanley Baldwin. In 1932 Baldwin was shinning up to Mussolini who at the time was busy trying to capture Ethiopia. Never one to particularly care about the fate of African nations Baldwin dispatched Hoare to France to get the French minister Laval to agree to letting the Italians have part of Ethiopia. The populace was not yet ready for this progenitor of appeasement and when the Laval-Hoare pact became known Hoare was forced to resign what with Baldwin not being any type of a stand up guy. Churchill still out of the government wrote Hoare as he knew the truth. Of course, Hoare, being one of the boys was soon back in Government. Right up to the War he did whatever he could to keep Churchill away from Downing Street, and together with his fellow Baldwin sycophant Chamberlain never backed down from his support of appeasement. They, as do present day born to the manor right wing politicians, confused an absence of shame with the presence of courage.

After racing with the Professional Junior Masters at Superweek was looking forward to a few weeks of racing with guys only fifteen years younger. So, it was off to the annual Hamburger Days’ races in Columbus, Ohio. The race announced on the flyer was for Master’s 35 plus. Left at 10:30 Friday for a 4:30 race. Had taken into account the traffic jams on I-70 at the Indiana border and outside Columbus; however, had lost head and not figured on the semi-mini van turn over in Dayton. Seems the van with cruise control set on the obligatory 56 MPH was trying to pass the semi that was going 54. The van wouldn’t get out of the semi’s wheel well and you know the rest. Four hours later they cleaned up all the chemicals. Arrived just before the race to find out that Tim Tyler had turned it into a Junior Masters’ Race. This was at least the easiest course in North America and there was going to be a major tailwind sprint. Now, had read in Velonews about the importance of positive self talk so spent the entire race telling self about how much faster everyone was and how dangerous the sprint was going to be and how it was unfair to have to race with kids, and how the long drive had left self fatigued and how they shouldn’t let guys with mountain bike shoes in the race and how there was no shame in being beaten by pro masters and how this wasn’t really an important race and how much sense it would make to go for the gamblers’ prime and of course thirty other guys had the same idea. Also, didn’t want to steal thunder from Shake who was back from July 4 crash and avoiding pirates in the Tortugas. Some really fast guy won and Shake was second. After receiving must deserved admonishment from Shake about having no courage he stole new bike and went off looking for Pro Shakes. Spent next hour watching the women pros race for cars and asking all the Shakes if they were Grant whom they all wanted to be but couldn’t. Mercer girl and Jane finished the woman’s race and were awarded new Saturns, which they turned down because they couldn’t bear the shame of driving a woman’s car. Shake finally shows up half way through the pro race and returns the Truesport.com, Holland built titanium Puck bike. Interestingly, he had never been on a titanium bike and expressed surprise that it was stiff enough to use for racing. Told him that his team manager had been around and wanted to know why he was not at the Shake tent giving autographs and that Velonews was looking to interview him about his comeback. While he was gone rode over and decorated the Mercedes with ABR Stickers and watched a woman racer try to turn off the alarm in her boyfriend’s Volkswagen. Went over to the start finish line to talk to Shade Tree who advised that not even Winkie had potions for old men with no courage. With nothing else to do was forced to watch the finish of the pro race. Near as could be determined a fast pro won and Whitlock, today racing as a pro, finished somewhere. This rather dull event was only saved by post race shenanigans.

Seems that pros didn’t like sharing the road and the possibility of prize money with any Cat II’s or in Whitlock's case a II today maybe a III tomorrow. Whitlock keeps getting elbowed and bumped and squeezed and aggravated and not only refused to give ground but also gave back. Who do you suppose has more anxiety: a baby faced not good enough to race in Europe professional or a guy who spends all week keeping a power plant running and dealing with the EPA and who has just consumed a liter of Mountain Dew? Apparently, one of the Navigators blames Whitlock for him not winning the race and so comes up during the cool down and gives juiced up Puck an exuberant tap and asks for a pugilistic throw-down. Now, Whitlock used to hang with Toulson so you know the result. Anyway, the Pro goes off to cash in on his Navigator Insurance Policy and his teammates start laughing and well it’s just another classy story about this most classy of sports. After a day of such fun it was a pleasure to sit in traffic for another five hours.

Didn’t return to Sunday’s race but Whitlock raced in the Pro Junior Master’s Race and won some money and free burger coupons. By way of postscript he also went to the Tour of the Coal Mining Towns and raced with the pros whom he now says are all great guys. Oh yes, he also won a race and was third in another.

Feeling like left-over hamburger helper arose the next day to go to Tell City with Enmark who is finally racing again after spending most of the Summer on jet skis. Great race for a coming out party. Tell City is on the Ohio River between Louisville and Evansville. The course is around the Courthouse and is eight turns with a small uphill, false flats and cool downhill turns. Now, for some reason racers will travel to a swamp for a quote "road race" or a four-corner eight-lane two-mile industrial park crit but won’t go across the street if a course rewards any bike handling skills. Anyway only about ten people show up for the Masters’ race and a Marsupial won. The Cat III race for several hundred dollars was cancelled because only six racers showed up. The promoter generously simply cut the purse and made it a separate prize as part of the Cat II race. The Cat II race was single file from the start. About the fourth lap one of the Cat III Bumblebees sits up going into the fast downhill corner. Go under him and come out to confront some guy in a seed corn hat riding a hybrid riding against the course. Fortunately, Hewitt was the official and agreed this warranted a free lap. Anyway, stay in the midst of this insanity until Hewitt awards four consecutive primes culminating in one for fifty dollars. The college kids go nuts and it’s sidelines for fat Puck. The race disintegrates and in the end Marsupial lawyer Bobero drops Gus from St. Louis and solos for the win. SHOW SOME LOYALTY AND HEART AND COME TO THIS RACE NEXT YEAR.

Was ground into pulp the next day at Brookside. The road race posers won’t even show up for a race in their backyard because the course has two turns and a small hill. Putting these grown men to shame was Jane who finished the Cat II after winning the women’s race. The electric razor business will always have a market given the number of claimed racers who no doubt can’t look at themselves long enough to shave with a blade.

ABR Masters Nationals Road Races are held each year in the prairie outside of Chicago. Darling wife is always keen on making this trip and so preparation for race day consisted of dinner with Grant and Bonnie at a typical Grant restaurant, high on style and place to be seen scales. Surprisingly, this place named Cool Blue or something while not noisy enough for Shake did have edible food and Shake was able to stay on his fish only, thank you, diet. After sending Shake to bed Darling Wife determined that it would not be possible to race properly without spending a couple hours at the Four Seasons piano lounge. After a quart of cognac she insisted upon doing a dance on the piano. Left her to talk to the management.

Arrived at the race site early to wait for Molewyk and speak with Nestor and Hewitt. Did normal warm-up of three cups of coffee and race started. After ten miles at twelve the speed increased to fifteen until someone invoked AARP rule that one time in each race each participant can demand that the speed be reduced. After working through all these intricacies it was finally agreed that because the days were getting shorter it would be necessary to speed up. Anyway, form allegiance with-gasp-Skippy and attack. Now, there is this one tall guy from Illinois who spends a lot of time in a tanning bed and fashions himself a geriatric Cippolini. In several races this year he has latched onto a break only to claim that he was too wasted to ride but of course was always able to sprint. So, for thirty miles he and another shameless excuse counter every attack made by the unholy Puck-Handjob alliance. With about twenty miles to go a time trial Lollipop from the Team Wisconsin Body Builder and Tattoo Parlor squad attacks and takes the Tan Man along. Let them get two hundred meters and bridge on the only hill with Skippy in tow. Know that this Ban de Solei commercial isn’t going to wrinkle his brow but at least expect him to stay out the way. Instead he goes to the front and soft pedals etc. So, after a few minutes of this about five other guys show up and we go back to twelve as someone claims he hadn’t used up his go-slow pass. At this point a gentleman who rides a lot drifts off the front. Skippy asks if anyone intends to race and is told no- that they need to prepare for the important sprint for the second through fifth place genuine laminated plaques and besides they don’t want a Puck or a Job to attack them. Beginning to understand why Shake stayed in Chicago. Anyway, a guy with courage won and the rest can take solace in the fact that they once again avoided taking a chance. Of yes, during the ride back to the lot one of these sprinters wanted to have a laydown because he was impeded in the sprint. Told him that the Navigators were going to be at Downers the next day and he should talk to them. Also, told him that Dad was free to fight with him as he had gotten back into physical therapy and besides with Branner having a broken collarbone Dad had to postpone that rematch. Besides, guys who hide behind word processors only have the courage of words.

Molewyk was sixth in the forty plus race and quite upset at missing out on an award. Told him that Darling Wife had a triathlon finisher’s award that she had no use for and this seemed to make him happy.

Last year the criteriums had been held at a small town called Lake Crystal or something. Anyway, get a letter from Nestor last fall that a bike racer was running for Mayor and it would be a good idea to send him some money. So Nestor raises money for the guy and he gets elected. As you would expect Nestor’s loyalty is rewarded by the guy refusing to let him use the course. Churchill, during his Wilderness Years commented that "politics were a foul business." That’s an insult to fowls.

Couldn’t attend the criteriums for several reasons. Dennis was in town with Lauren and always-generous Darling Wife invited them to dinner at Pane Caldo. After an hour wine-tasting Dennis ordered the most expensive bottle in the place and Wife said to just pay and be happy that Dennis found something he liked. Decided it was probably not a good idea to push luck at Four Seasons.

Instead took act to the Ritz for an early morning audition. Wife most happy as Manager said he’d call.

Dennis still euphoric took a fifty-dollar prime in the II race at Downers and went to the sideline to throw up a hundred dollars worth of Amorone.

Grant participated in the twenty-minute for twenty-five dollars Masters race and was second. The grateful masters all signed a card for John Tarbert thanking the association for letting them use the course.

MASSACRE AT FT. BEN

Ft. Benjamin Harrison is on the East Side of Indianapolis. It was closed as a military base while Danny Quayle was VP, which shows you how much say he had during his days near power. It is now a park and for the past several years has been the site of last race in the coveted points race for the Indiana Governors’ Cup. The course is a couple of miles or so long. It goes up and then down with the finish around a fast downhill corner. Guys who can’t make a right turn without dismounting show up for this race and take chances they usually only reserve for the stop light poser races in Broadripple. Admittedly, there is a certain amount of courage extant in taking to the pavement with these guys. However, there is flip side to a fixation on courage. You are referred to Falstaff who upon a judicious retreat tells the audience: "He who hath honor died on Tuesday." Now, Molewyk who had crashed two times in three weeks in Cat III and supposedly safe masters’ races was rather easily persuaded that it was a good idea to do the II race and skip the hyperkinetic 35 plus graviton. Whitlock arrives two minutes before the start, takes the next to last lap helmet prime and drags in last. No one falls down. Put the bike away and sit down to watch premonitions come true as the Ft. Ben Massacre begins.

On the last lap of the 35 race the field is together as the race for corner begins. Two time national champion and deprived of Ritalin as a child Mercer is on the right side of the road when his already challenged attention span is exhausted by images of victory. He rides off the road and upon re-entry goes sideways and down. Now, a lot of guys were observing Mercer rules, viz., always stay ten feet to the right, left and rear. (This causes a problem when also trying to observe Handjob rules but that Hobson’s choice is for another discussion.) Most, but not all of these fellows were spared. For the rest well the worst injuries were to Marsupial Fagerberg-broken collarbone and Sergeant Preston who spent two days in hospital with a collapsed lung and broken collarbone. Went to see David later in the day. Actually, went over to take a shower and see his daughter Aimee who now lives in New York and for whom all men would write bad checks. Dave looked as if he had been thrown from a car. He also appeared to have a concussion though as you know with Dave it’s not easy to determine. Regardless, he explained that he had the race won and couldn’t figure out what happened.

The Cat IV’s don’t even wait for the finish. They crash on the uphill, in the slow turns at the top, and of course, at the finish. Safety was running out of burn medicine.

In the Cat III race Enmark won the Heart Rate Monitor Prime and packed up and went to work. The worst crash was on the last lap when the race announcer ran into a tree. According to a Puck on the scene he couldn’t move his neck, was disoriented and had fluid in his ear-usually an indication of a basal skull fracture.

During the III race it was observed that one of the Handjobs was using tri-bars. To the guy’s credit he appeared to only be racing for training and stayed at the back. However, when yours truly lined up for the 40, 50, 60 combined event it was observed that another of these Surgically Skilled Guys had these cattle collectors attached. As it were this was a guy who when last heard from had run into a curb on an urban warfare ride. Letting this peripatetic lunatic loose on tri-bars would have been the equivalent of giving a gattling gun to Santa Anna. Politely expressed this concern at the start line and was chastised by a guy in a Disneyland Jersey with his number affixed to an elastic triathlon belt. Exercised free will and left.

Dan made him take off the bars. He was a lap down. Molewyk wouldn’t let him win any primes. No one chased when he made an attack. When he was not allowed to claim first prize he threw a tantrum and said he wouldn’t do anymore of Dan’s races which was like he had done two. Dan told him he would be missed.

Next day it was off to Dayton. For about the hundredth time Rocket Garrett refuses to let his soon to be ex-friend win a prime in the 35 Race. But that’s a minor story. One of the most competitive fields of the year showed up for the combined 50 plus and women’s race. Was able to take the victory. However, after the race a guy who came to the line on one of those motorized grocery carts advised that he would have won except that his summer vacation was over and he was back to work. Gave him the prize money, as it was clearly unfair for a lawyer who never works to take money from a working man.

Spent the II race riding next to Grant and listening to the music from his headphones. Whitlock lost the sprint for last money spot.

Molewyk was so happy about finishing the II race that he agreed for a ten-dollar fee to run the air-conditioning on the way home.

The women were still racing so can’t tell you whether anyone won.

In the event you were wondering, Samuel Hoare was rewarded with a place in the House of Lords. Churchill lost his PM position because of a bad economy. There are no new politics.

Came home and advised Darling Wife of the win. She wanted to know whom had to be paid off and that the bill for the damage at the Four Seasons had arrived and that the winnings probably would not cover it. It’s always good to come home.

Postscript: Thank you to Matt Molewyk for his help at the races and especially for taking control of the air-conditioning. There may yet be hope.

Ride fast and obey Mercer Rules.

Bill Stone