Showing posts with label Chevrolet/LA Sheriff Cycling Club. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chevrolet/LA Sheriff Cycling Club. Show all posts
Thursday, May 6, 2010
From the archives...
Monday, May 3, 2010
Here's to old riding buddies...
Last night, out of the blue, I received a phone call from an old cycling buddy from my racing days; someone I had not seen or even talked to in a number of years. It was totally cool, bringing back a peloton full of memories. I met Dave in the very early 1990s when we were doing the Bicycle Doctor ride on Saturday mornings. I had been racing with the Chevrolet/LA Sheriff club for a couple years, and he was looking to get back into the sport after a number of years away. Though I tried to recruit him, he was determined to rejoin the team he had raced for in the 1970s; it worked out well, as he became one of the premier local master's level racers.
We would occasionally drive to races together in the gawd-awful early hours of the morning, during which he would subject me to all sorts of Republican propaganda. There were times when we would skip out on the Tuesday/Thursday Rose Bowl training race after a few laps, and ride onto the Brookside Golf Course clubhouse patio, order some beers and toast the peloton as they would fly by each lap, and then go back to making fun of all the golfers. There were epic rides up into the local mountains, there was the bestowing of my first cycling nickname, bubba.
Beginning in 1998, when my son was born, I began to lose contact with the sport as family took up more and more time. By 2002 I let my racing license lapse, finally accepting the reality that any real opportunity of a serious comeback would be years away. That was when I lost contact with Dave as well. I know he continued to tear it up at races because I followed the scene through the racing media. But Christmas cards each year were about it until last night, and that is just not right when there were so many good times. So, I raise a cup o' joe this morning (can you guess who started my on that habit?) to old cycling buddies who shared laughs, epic rides, races, political banter, cycling library videos, unidentified cow bones, spare tubes, and what not; and let those good times continue to roll.
We would occasionally drive to races together in the gawd-awful early hours of the morning, during which he would subject me to all sorts of Republican propaganda. There were times when we would skip out on the Tuesday/Thursday Rose Bowl training race after a few laps, and ride onto the Brookside Golf Course clubhouse patio, order some beers and toast the peloton as they would fly by each lap, and then go back to making fun of all the golfers. There were epic rides up into the local mountains, there was the bestowing of my first cycling nickname, bubba.
Beginning in 1998, when my son was born, I began to lose contact with the sport as family took up more and more time. By 2002 I let my racing license lapse, finally accepting the reality that any real opportunity of a serious comeback would be years away. That was when I lost contact with Dave as well. I know he continued to tear it up at races because I followed the scene through the racing media. But Christmas cards each year were about it until last night, and that is just not right when there were so many good times. So, I raise a cup o' joe this morning (can you guess who started my on that habit?) to old cycling buddies who shared laughs, epic rides, races, political banter, cycling library videos, unidentified cow bones, spare tubes, and what not; and let those good times continue to roll.
myself (left) with SuperDave at start of the Gunlock Road Race, stage 1,
Chums Classic Tour of St. George, c.1995
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