Biker 7: 2015

MS Tour 2015,,, Hammond to McComb 75 miles each way.... Saturday Morning 8:00 am.
1000 plus riders merge into a starting pack, a canopy of anticipation, eagerness, self doubt, covers us like a blanket too thin to give warmth, yet to heavy to be ignored. Twenty or so are called to the starting line at a time, recognized , sent off , best wishes and God's Speed. The early air was cool, a north breeze annoyed progress, the hills that lay ahead haven't moved since last year. North breeze, rise in altitude, crowed start, all led to gear position 12 not the usual 20, spin time, no power pedaling, groups stayed tight till the first rest stop, 10 miles, I skip it, get out the maddening crowd, shifted up a couple of notches, had some breathing room.
This was my 10th MS Tour, but more significant than that was the organizers are now very serious about not wearing headphones or ear buds, normally I ignore these pleas, I love my music when riding, as a sacrifice to the cause , no ear buds this year, it was like trying to quit smoking cold turkey, several times I reached to my ears to push the buds in further since I couldn't hear them, no luck, I had practiced riding without them a few times, but this was where the rubber met the road or the music leaves the road, I imagined I was listening to some Robert Cray 4/4 blues, not like the real thing, but kept my legs going. Mile 20 a little sun rose, the warmth raised the level of effort, stopped at #2 rest stop quickly, grabbed a snack, filled up Gatorade,
onward. The scenery improved the further we got away from Hammond, rolling hills, pine forest, 30 miles, I'm in a grove now, its out of my control, my legs are mechanical with their own logic, my arms steer around
debris I don't even see, my eyes scan left , right, up , down , forward , rearward, in accord with an Eagle searching for movement, scanning, peeping, stalling occasionally to ponder an interesting sight. Met a charming young lady named Maria, she's a student at LSU, we chatted about 15 miles, she was from Maryland, likes to cycle, met a man named Joe, great rider, we climbed a couple of hills together, Joe was from Baton Rouge, it was his 5th tour, met a couple, no name, the husband , about my age, said his wife had had open heart surgery a six months back , I told him to give her my regards for a healthy recovery, he says , tell her yourself , she about 15 feet in front of us , she was and kicking our asses, remarkable what the human body and spirit can accomplish if the will to live is strong enough. Lunch time, this year I skipped the traditional peanut butter and jelly, went for the vegetable wrap, it tasted great, it was a might coarse, the leaves it was wrapped in resembled leather, they protected the vegetable from all manner of destruction. It tasted great, ate it again day 2, except this time I gave the wrapping material a rub before I attacked it .
50 miles , into the hills, slow going , uphill grade, hills, north breeze, plenty spinning, I'm pretty high by now, that thing that happens to endurance athletes, the tour was over , the remainder was just a formality, my body , the bike, the road, the countryside, congeal into a melded mass rolling across the blacktop,
an entity of determination, destination, a delineation of travel in its rudimentary form. Met up with my Friend Brian Wise ,, he's one of the volunteer motorcycle escorts that donates his time, his motor bike , his gas, to make the Tour a save fun ride...Both our asses hurt at this point , my thighs flamed, burned, cried for mercy, but today there is no mercy, just more peddling, higher hills, faster pace, smelling the finish line..THE LAST HILL, AKA Godzilla, cant see the top, a mile long ride to the top, drop down to my lowest gear, spin spin spin, pedal, pedal, pedal, pump, pump, pump, half its height my thighs spit flames , a burning like no other,
can't stop, slide back on seat, lean forward, it'll all be over at the top, riders around me drop, stop and walk, not I , no stopping, feet can't touch the ground, that's failure, at 4 miles per hour I breach the crest, all is good with life again, no burn, no struggle, now I hang on for the downside 28 miles an hour ride, what a high, what a thrill, 30 miles an hour , my feet 3 inches from the ground, the wind blowing my hair back flowing behind me like a flag, I grin from ear to ear, I have once again conquered a dragon, today I win, maybe next time it wins?, mountain climbers say, " the mountain decides" ! . Ten miles to the Park, a couple of motorcyclist mirror my left, must be Brian and a friend checking on me, I turn to give them a thumbs up and a I'm OK smile, it's not Brian, its Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda, they're waving, smiling, OK so now I guess we'll have to stop somewhere , smoke a doobe , listen to "Don't Bogart That Joint My Friend", and maybe , just maybe, we'll run into Karen Black, then do some acid in a cemetery,,, Wait ! this isn't "Easy Rider", it's the MS Tour, shaking my head a few minutes cleared my vision , I then realized it was not Dennis Hopper or Peter Fonda, It was the Cisco Kid and Poncho,,what, no , it was 2 State Policemen checking on me, they watch for dreamy eyed riders that may be having too much endorphin release... Yeah , that's it , endorphin release, think that's as close to a Valium as you can get.. I missed my music today but rules are rules. Entering the Park is always a thrill, the Motorcyclist park outside , cheer you on , toot their horns as you turn into the park, the roller coaster begins, one mile of fast rolling hills full of speed bumps, welcome signs, turns, campers, cars, the the finish line, big red balloon entrance , cheering, congratulations , pats on the back, Marie waiting for me, MS Victims thanking you . . . It's like you just won the Super Bowl, and in my little pond I did.....
End of day one,,,,
Day 2....
Each day at stop 3, my friend the bike technician Eric of "East Bank Cyclery" helps those with mechanical issues, he takes care of my bike regularly, we visit at stop 3 every year and I take a big picture of him..
He wishes I'd keep my chain cleaner but admits with 46,800 miles it's ok ,,
Rolling out the Percy Quinn is an adventure of it's own, the corridor to the highway is wall to wall cyclist ,
not necessarily trying to get ahead , just trying to stay upright, it's fast, short steep hills, speed bumps,
the ground is damp , slippery , leaf covered, dark, it's an organized runaway roller coaster. Exciting,
I took a video of the morning start , its coming. Relief to reach the sunlit highway, things spread out , it's more level, time to ride...The hills come early on Sunday morning, up , up and away,,,Godzilla is first in line, but our legs are fresh, so we pump, pump, pump, pedal , pedal, pedal, thighs burn, burn, burn, but less complaining , on the down side I'm cocky, crouch down, lean forward, keep pedaling and go for 30 mph, hit bottom at 30, hanging on for dear life, every little crack in the road is possible catastrophe, one loose gravel could mean a trip over the handlebars, a trip I've taken quite a few times , not enjoyable, don't feel good, and usually break, sprain, or scrape something, never without blood, but as a t shirt says, " blood dries, bones heal, and consciousness returns eventually. Skip first stop as usual, boogie on , started reaching for my headphones then remembered , I don't have them, not allowed, shit, then like a miracle a man came riding buy with a 8 inch speaker on the back of his bike,OK I'll tag along with him and listen to some music ,
his choice of music was so bad it motivated me to leave him in the dust, I was gone, my subconscious provided me better motivational music, just from memory. I can imagine 3 Doors Down playing "Here without You", in my head, Semisonic calling me in my sleep, and whats a ride without "Golden Earring"'s
"Twilight Zone", and "Radar Love". So , who wants to hear the Tractor Trailer coming when it makes you a hood ornament, surprise me, give me that," Oh Shit !", look on my face. The prevailing wind was " none", sun was out, sky was almost blue, plenty chatter, meeting new riders, everybody has a story their ready to share with you , even me, I tell everyone I'm the blacksmith from "The Rifleman", and I moved here when I retired, their impressed how well I ride for a 73 year old, they all ask about Johnny Crawford, I have to explain to them he was shot in the John Wayne movie, " El Dorado"..Stop at the second break, grab some drink, cookies, banana, the essentials, onward. Snuggling through a narrow wooded side road that links highways my eagle eye attention caught a peculiar shape on a pipe over a small creek, it was brownish, whitish, like a very large owl, but much larger, wings were clearly there, the feet seemed webbed,
I looked around to tell someone "look at that", but I was alone, as I neared, we caught each other eyes,
it spued at me, hissed and snarled, that's when I noticed the small horns, giant fangs, claws on its wing tips, it was then I realized I was face to face with a Chubracabra, extending its wings it gracefully crossed the creek, flew to a high tree just in side the wood line, good thing I'm not a goat or it'd be over for me , or am I , The Goat,?? Blood dripped off his crudely curved fangs, no doubt loaded with parasites , bacteria and small chunks of leftover meat from his last meal, , his eyes carried visions of slaughter, blood sucking, goat eating, his talons visibly powerful , sharp, bloody, he extended his arms, the leathery skin attaching arms to body made solid wings, no noise just a silent murmur signaling approaching death. I sat high as I could in my saddle to make a larger presence, rode off fast as I could. Caught up with some riders at the next hill, didn't say a word, "who'd believe me", more Cubracabra experiences to come... Lunch Stop, same as yesterday, had the vegetable wrap, the green leather it was wrapped in seemed a little tougher today..Had some of those great whole wheat fig bars, delicious, load up my drinks, talked to Brian a while, then onward.
Everything is getting easier, there's still hills but the general grade is downhill, sunshine, I feel great, the road is friendly, no Cougar attacks out the wood-line yet, rode awhile with Bronson, he was headed up north, he and his Triumph, cool as ever, he was going down that long lonesome highway, so was I , but I eventually had to go home. All I need now is a visit from Alby Mangels, now there is an adventurer, a man I can call a hero, he stands in a puddle of his testosterone, he's done it all, all over the world, and barely lived to tell about it . Crossed continents on camel, in Dahaitsu's, on foot, fought civil wars in remote jungles, flew helicopters across desserts, mined for emeralds and was a prize fighter when low on money..Nearing the first stop after lunch I note the crowd getting smaller, more and more riders taking the sag wagon, only the hard core and the determined left, I fit the determined group, my co pilot Brian cruises by on his big white Motorcycle, we exchange thumbs up , he moves on to the next rider. Stretches of oneness grow longer , hills diminish, I start to kick it , can smell home, cruising about 17 mph, good cadence, comfortable, gonna roar in to the finish. Stop 5 , make it quick , drink, fig bars, cookies, banana , onward. Approaching the outskirts of Hammond, I'm high as Timothy Leary, endorphins have taken over any reasonable thought I may have had or hoped to have, trying to add to the pace I began to play "Cupid Shuffle " in my head, the tempo kicks me up , love the song, the dance is a little simple,, but fun, finally spot 3 riders in front of me, I'm gaining on them fast like their waiting on me , I'll just blow by them , hope their hanging on , I reach them , become parallel, but I couldn't pass them , I was locked into their pace, I turn to the right then it all makes sense, 1st is Green Lantern, probably threw me into a Parallax Universe, 2nd was Rod Serling who undoubtedly sent me to the Twilight Zone, 3rd was Truman Gandhi who whipped my karma into a frenzy,
what a mess, too close to the finish line to have imagination surges like this, blink a few times , shake my head, it's 2 girls and a man cruising along, suddenly I was released , sped to the finish line.. The ride through Hammond is scenic to say the least, we come in from the north, through neighborhoods that were transparent on Saturday morning, bunched up riders, excitement, police, now its fairly thin, get to see it all differently. Up ahead !, yes its the final turn, turn right on the big 4 lane , I immediately hear the crowd , see the big red finish line balloon, the announcer calling riders in , now I'm pumping for all I have, nothing to save it for, I whip through the finish line like I just won stage 5 of the Tour De France, throw my arms up in simulated victory, Wife , daughter and 2 grand kids waiting to pat me on the back,in my mind I just did win the Tour de France, accomplishment no matter how large or small is always a victory for everyone.
Saturday 6 hr 48 mins, Sunday 6 hr 15 mins, 150 miles, raised 1650.00 for MS, ranked 73 in fundraising for an individual, everybody won.. Thanks to all who gave me motivational support, financial support , and left the light on in the window for me.....
Gary Gauthier