Aprils First Friday Alley Cat was the warmest one all year. I arrived at the bar around 7pm and it was already packed. There were a number of racers already there but none that had been coming normally. That’s to be expected, even in this community, there are your share of fair weather cyclists. That’s ok; it’s always fun to have more people racing anyways. I didn’t really know anyone so I picked a stool and ordered a beer. I spent the next 45 minutes watching everyone in the bar. More and more racers began to trickle in, many where messengers, this was going to be a tough race. At one point even the owner of Breakaway showed up. Everyone’s spirits were high and the PBR was flowing like water. I watched in wonder as racers pounded down can after can and smoked cigarettes one after another, these people do this for a living so their bodies are used to this level of abuse, but I was still amazed. How many of them were going to be drunk for the race? A number of times I wondered if a race was going to be foregone in favor of a spring biker party.
The race was supposed to start at 7:30; that came and went with not an utterance of anything. I didn’t even know who was putting the race on and continued to watch everyone else for any signs of registration. I stopped at 2 pints and spent the rest of the time drinking water and eating chips and salsa. Each time I do this I am always amazed at the 2 diverging cultures that preside in this bar. On one end you have these early 20 something bike messenger people and their friends, who sport all sorts of biking apparel and carry large cross shoulder messenger bags. Then you have the people who have been patronizing this ‘corner’ tap for probably as long as it has been in existence, middle aged working class white people. It’s like you have the conservative parents sharing a bar with their rebel children and everyone gets along fine. The messenger community, I have noticed, is very friendly and open to party with everyone. Friday night I watched a conversation unfold between a barely 21 year old racer and an old man in his 70’s or 80’s. This night, more than any other, I felt like Hunter S. Thompson when he hung out with the Hell’s Angles. Although, I’m not doing this to write about it, I’m doing it to race, I’m just writing about it because it has made such an impact on me that I feel the story should be told.
Around quarter to 8 the guy putting on the race showed up, it was Joe. He was running a bit late. Everyone swamped him to get registered. There were no manifests handed out. I checked the mechanics on my bike and readied myself so I wasn’t lagging too far at the start. After I came back into the bar I heard a call to meet soon outside, I went back out and unlocked my bike. Everyone else started pouring onto the sidewalk as well. It was just barely nighttime. While I was doing something to my bag my bike fell over and someone yelled “false start!!” out in jest. Everyone was in an incredibly good mood today…it was going to be a fun race. The guy putting on the race handed out empty FedEx boxes. He told us to write this information down on the boxes; there were 2 manifests, 1 was in a free paper box on Water and
I headed for the first manifest. I took the corner at
I cranked out to the next manifest drop point, not knowing where
Heading west on Brady I passed two of the riders and caught up and held pace with 2 more. At the red light at Van Buren they showed no signs of slowing down. I thought they were going to plow blindly through the intersection but instead they cut a hard right ad took the bridge leading to Holton. I followed suit and pounded up this long slow incline. They were outpacing me mostly due to their lower gear ratios. I ended up about a half block behind them and continued to follow them after the bridge. At the top end of it they turned west down a side street and kept going forward. I had no idea where they were going, but decided to follow.
We ended up north of
Once that question was answered they mounted and I followed suit, slightly behind. They took off west on Walnut then east on 4th. I knew this area; my car was parked just a block away. They cut down the next block and took a shortcut out to 6th through the parking lot of a building. Then they went south on 6th. I’m not sure why they didn’t just go up to 6th and Walnut, maybe they didn’t want to chance getting caught at the light. Traffic was pretty sparse and we all had an easy time navigating the road. I gained the advantage on 6th and coasted down the hill. They were riding fixed so had to keep peddling. I gained the ground I had lost by tucking into the hill to reduce my wind resistance. I got a quarter of a block from them and they stopped at the next intersection and backtracked down that street. I caught up with them as the righted their direction and we all cranked up the hell heading west on Vliet. As I took the corner I passed one of the guys and shouted out to him if he minded me tagging along, he said he didn’t. They once again had the advantage over me with the smaller ratios and climbed the hill with ease. I slowed a bit but caught up at the next church on
The crosswalk was pretty steep, so again I was at a loss. The guy I was tailing turned the corner at the other end. At the turn I had to slow considerably because it was 90 degrees. I was then faced with two cross fences making it difficult to bring anything other than a human through that entrance. I had to put a foot down and steady my way through the barricade. Once out I was back on free road.
It was fully dark now and this part of the street has no street lights. Traffic was non existent and I knew where to go. I headed back east on the hill that turned Vliet into Juneau all the while thinking 2 things, I should have taken 6th street and I need to NOT hit anything on this road, which is incredibly horrible. Luckily I know this stretch of road very well, due to it being on my route to work while biking. I spotted an open road in the midst of the Pabst construction and took it. It led me to
I clipped back into my pedals and went back to 9th; from there I headed north and crossed over the street to get to the church I needed at the corner of 9th and
I got up to the main area of the park and noticed a news van parked at the east end and someone walking towards it. The park was incredibly dark and I had to find a statue of Gandhi, I never knew there was a statue of Gandhi in town. I contemplated heading to the news van to see if they knew where it was and also wondered if they had noticed an inordinate number of bikers in the park recently. I spotted out of the corner of my eye the statue, closer to the courthouse. I hiked my bike up another set of stairs and mounted it, partially wondering if I would get in trouble for riding in the park. Oh well, if I get yelled at, I will apologize and walk it out of the park. I didn’t get scolded but I did notice a lone person sitting on a stoop. I thought that it might be a worker taking a break.
I headed to the statue and quickly began looking for the date he was born. I found it on the front side wrote it down and headed off. As I started to leave I noticed one of the Breakaway messengers enter the park from the south east. I headed southwest. My next stop was the church on
As I headed west on the walkway I kept imagining me running into a hidden stair way and busting my ass all over it. I luckily didn’t and was brought out to the sidewalk on
The only problem with my way was that 13th under the freeway didn’t actually exist anymore due to the construction. I figured I’d risk it anyways and shot down 11th. At Clybourne I came to the entrance of 13th, hopped off of my bike, noted the ‘no foot traffic’ and ‘construction entrance only’ signs as I headed to the other side. As I made my way through the dark I had visions of hitting a hidden pot hole and screwing something up. I noticed large concrete barriers on the south side that kept everyone northbound out and funneled freeway exiting people to
There was a lone car stopped at the intersection. I wondered if they notice me and my bike and if so what they thought about seeing me coming out of the forbidden zone. I beat them through the intersection as I rolled through the red. I was home free and riding down 13th. The only problem was that I was having a hard time clipping my shoes into my pedals. I had picked up a lot of dirt and mud in my little off-road trek. I was finally able to fully clip in as I hit the bridge south of
I rolled up to it, hoped off and ran my bike onto the grass. I noticed a number of tire treads from previous racers. As I went around to the rear of the statue to count the number of feathers in its head I noticed a Potawatomi security guard watching me from the side of the street. I wonder what that person was thinking, how long has she been there, how many bikers has she seen do what I’m doing. What does she think this all means? It’s really interesting to think about what the bystanders think of al the bikers cruising around. Most people just think we are out for a ride, some will wonder at why some many seem to be gathering at places then leaving quickly. I’m pretty sure no one thinks that there is a race going on. Alley cat races defy the conventional bike race image, which is filled with brightly colored spandex sporting athletes riding around a closed course for ever and ever until the allotted distance has been covered. They don’t expect a bunch of kids riding dumpster dive single speed bikes sporting jeans and Pabst paraphernalia to actually be racing. I like that kind of misconception. Although the more I do this the more I would love for there to be some form of sanctioned single speed road racing circuit. There are forms of such through out the country but it’s few and far between. The only real sanctioned bike racing that openly allows single speed bikes is the fast growing cyclo-cross.
I got my feather numbers, 3 and took off. As I started I noticed the messenger heading westbound as well. I shouted out the number to him and he thanked me. I took off to follow him, I knew a little of where I was going but wanted to pace with someone. As we headed eastbound I noticed the other racer turning around to head back west, I shouted out to him that the statue was in the median, he thanked me for the help…just doing the friendly thing. We cruised down
He began to outpace me when we hit 6th. We both hit the intersection right at the red and took the turn before the cross traffic started. I slowed down a bit to take the corner but he just leaned over and barreled through it. As we went up the hill into La Barrio I again cursed my large gear ratio. Coming northbound, heading towards us, were two racers, the guy who owned Breakaway and another guy. The owner shouted at the messenger I was pacing, some kind of taunt. We kept going.
At
Onward I went, a half block behind the messenger. We went up another block to
As we cruised down the street I noticed I was right. The actual spot was on the other side of the freeway. At each intersection he shouted out clear to let me know there was no traffic. Amazingly
We both rolled along heading north bound. I only had the two downtown stops left. I caught up with him near National; he asked me what I had left. I told him the first two and split off from him at National. He headed back towards the
Traffic was picking up in this part of town and I amazingly made the green at 2nd, but not before someone threatened to turn in front of me without noticing. One thing I neglected to mention was that I had been riding without a headlight again. When the race started I found out that my batteries were dead. It was easy to see that the car didn’t see me; I was dressed in all black, on a midnight blue bike with no headlight, let alone reflectors. I threw away the reflectors years ago. This was the first time I ever got scared on my bike, my heart raced; I had to calm my self down and did well enough by the time I hit
I kept ahead of traffic and beat everyone through a red light. I could hear a siren behind me, but kept going. I cruised into the Third Ward way ahead of the other racers and traffic. Too bad I wasn’t on the home stretch; this would have been a great victory ride. I hit a red light at
I needed to find a statue of Solomon Juneau and find out when he was elected mayor. I searched hard for statue, anything that would have a date on it or that required information. There was one monument nearby that as dedicated to WWI veterans but that was it. I paused and scanned the area; I noticed a statue in front of the art museum and headed off. I rode the sidewalk, looking for a down ramp to the street. I didn’t find one so had to dismount. Praying to not get hit by traffic in the blind curve coming off of
Why do grown adults purposely ride the sidewalks?
After circling fruitlessly again I headed to the park area on the southwest corner of the intersection, scanning for any form of a statue. After I ended up on
There were many bikes back already, which made it even harder for me. I locked up back were I was before, noting that the guy who does cyclo-cross was back as well and in the same spot.
The bar was more crowded than it was earlier. Many more bikers had shown up after the race to hang out, I recognized a lot of people who I have raced with in the past, who decided not to ride tonight but come out to party. I found Joe, placed my sloppy manifests in the FedEx envelope and handed it to him then explained why I didn’t have two of the answers. He jotted down my time, I was like the 6th or 7th person back, there were still many racers out in the field. Too bad I didn’t have all the answers. I decided to throw the hat in and worked with him on checking my answers. He seemed a bit shocked to see the two dates for one of the churches, when I explained where it was he nodded in wonder for having missed that. I guess the date he was looking for was on another part of the building. I thanked him for the race then got a beer and bought one for him as well. After I handed him his and then sat at the bar to drain mine, the messenger I was pacing for a while asked if I was the one following him. When I told him I was he asked where I went, then I explained where I went and he told me that the statue was actually on the corner I didn’t check, next to the historical society…oh well. I watched as more of the racers showed up, the bar was hopping and crowded.
After I finished my beer I thanked Joe again and took off. It was a great race and a great night, but it was time to take my defeated ass home.
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