Day one of the Tour De Cure is done. It’s been an interesting one, to say the least. It’s been a long day, and I’m not even riding a bike!
I began the adventure late last night with all the preparation that goes into programming my radios and GPS for the course route. I turned out the light close to midnight. Today began at o’dark thirty. I awoke at 5:30 and messed around before racing out the door at 6:30.
Whoa. It’s now 7:30 PM and I just saw the sun for the first time today. Wild.
Ok, where was I? Oh, yeah! I jumped in my car and was at Campbell University with plenty of time to spare. Anyone visibly out of shape there was probably another ham volunteer, so we met for a quick meeting to go over assignments and last-minute details.
My role today was as a SAG wagon. That’s “support-and-gear.” I spent the day driving back and forth along the course, providing transportation to riders who needed a lift. Along with my friend Janell Lovelace, who was here with Tanner and son Bram, I was told to station myself way down the course. This was to keep all the SAGs from bunching up at the start of the race.
The course is lined with directional signs which guide the riders. Due to the constant rain, these paper signs had basically dissolved, giving us some confusion as to where we were going. Janell and I picked our way up the course until we were sure we were at our assigned spot.
Only the directional signs were missing. The “century loop” which lets more hardcore riders tack on extra mileage, was completely unmarked. After circling around a few times, we confirmed that the signs were missing, not our common sense! I bought a magic marker from the corner convenience store and Janell took off along the loop, taping up signs to keep the race going.
About that time, I got handed a hammer from the other sign-posting team (not the ones who forgot to mark the loop). This was to be given to the loop guys, if they ever arrived.
Finally, they did get there, but were totally clueless about what to do. As they were volunteers like myself, I shrugged it off with a laugh and took on the task of showing them what to do. Only a handful of riders had gone by before the first signs were planted.
Having gotten that ball rolling, I took off down the loop in search of Janell. Not seeing her at the first turn, I parked myself there and made sure the first riders didn’t miss the sign she had taped up at the corner. With them safely on their way, I continued down the course.
Soon I encountered a large 2×6 board lying on the edge of the road inthe middle of a curve. It screamed “accident” to me, so I slammed on the brakes, causing the Clueless Signposters to nearly plow into me. The curve was tight there, so I knew I had to pull all the way off the road in order to clear that board safely.
I waved the Signposters on and backed into position. A split second later, I felt the right tires slip into the ditch.
Oops. I was stranded.
I sat there for a little while, feeding the mosquitoes and wondering how I could free myself without broadcasting my stupidity to the whole course using my ham radio. The board was almost perfect for jamming under the wheel for traction, but the right side was so low that it was impossible to get under the wheel. I sat and thought some more.
The net control on the radio to dispatch me to a rest stop. At that point, I swallowed my pride and cheerfully requested a tow rope. A long silence killed the radio chatter, as twenty hams laughed at my folly. Some help was promised, so I waited.
A group of 6-8 riders stopped to help push me. Try as they may, their only reward was to be coated in mud from my spinning tires. I thanked them profusely and sent them on. No luck, still stuck, as the children’s book says.
A deputy sheriff drove past, then returned and helpfully blocked traffic for me. At the same time, an older gentleman who looked to be a mechanic of some sort, went back home to grab a chain. It seemed I was free at last!
The older man returned and wasted no time in crawling under my car in search of a place to tow me. His chain wouldn’t fit in the bracket normally used for towing, so he tied it up on my left wheel strut. Big mistake! It got me out of the ditch, but my car wasn’t right after that.
I was driving the mile or so to the next rest stop when I noticed my car wasn’t steering right. The steering wheel was in left turn while the car was going relatively straight. It was also fishtailing a bit, which wasn’t good on the slick, wet roads. I also heard the tires chirping a bit as I pulled in. Thus, a few minutes after I declared myself back in commission, I was having doubts about that status.
I limped back along the course, looking for a garage. Before I found one, I came across a rider flagging me down. His riding partner was a few miles back with a flat tire and would need a lift to the rest stop. I couldn’t leave his buddy stranded, so I rode until I found him and then gave him an exciting ride back to the rest stop.
Then it was time to backtrack again in search of a garage. I got back to the store that sold me the magic marker and went through their phone book in search of towing companies and garages. The storekeeper thought to ask a customer to recommend a garage.
“Follow me,” he said. “I just came from one a quarter mile away!”
Sure enough, he did. We stopped at this nondescript garage tucked off the side of the road. A man named Bubbles VanCannon looked the car up and down. He’s a part-time mechanic who works on weekends to keep the neighborhood cars running. I was afraid I’d get taken to the cleaners by a local mechanic, but this guy proved me wrong in a big way.
It didn’t take long for him to see the problem. The strut used to pull my car out was nicely bent, causing my left rear wheel to point left. After a half hour of jacking, hammering, measuring, hammering, and measuring again, I was on my way. As for the price of his work, he suggested $20 but I gave him the $40 in my wallet, and I still owe him. I intend to get his name and number into the ham club’s newsletter as another way of saying thanks.
By now almost 90 minutes had gone by. After catching up to the crowd at Rest Stop Three, I checked back in and was sent back to the Century Loop Rest Stop to pick up gear. Thus, I got to drive by my favorite ditch a few more times before moving on. Yay.
It continued raining and riders were having some trouble keeping upright. I heard a call that some riders at a rest stop needed a lift to the finish line. I volunteered to take as many as I could. Since my car was loaded down with water cooler bottles and other stuff, I couldn’t promise many seats, but I’d do what I could.
A woman and her daughter took me up on my ride offer. I believe her name was Kathy, and her daughter’s name was Autumn. Thirteen-year-old Autumn had injured her knee on the course and was out for the day. I hauled their bikes onto the car and we set off for the finish line.
Along the way, we talked about the race and other things as we went. Kathy was kind enough to point out every ditch as we went, which we all got a kick out of. I enjoyed chatting with them, even if my attention was split between them, the road, and the radio chatter. As we arrived at the finish line, Kathy thanked me and laughed that she never wanted to need me again. Which was nice. 🙂 I saw her later this evening and said hello.
Once at the finish line, the organization that marked the communications all day broke down as people headed for dinner. Many were off the air when the last few riders made it to the FFA campgrounds at White Lake. Being one of the last hams to show up, I almost missed out on the spaghetti dinner.
I sat with my new ham buddies, Eric KE4OCN, Bill KC4CXY, and Al the Medic. I explained my ditch story a few times and we critiqued the day’s operations a bit. Unlike the last tour I worked, I took advantage of my opportunities to meet these people whose voices I’d known for so long. I’m glad I did because we got along great!
I’m now in my motel room blogging. It’s nearly nine o’clock. I have no room phone, but gentle waves are lapping ten feet away from me. And earlier I saw a beautiful sunset out my window. I hope to get some good sleep and be raring to go for the second leg of this event. It will be good to say hello to the ocean again, too: the first time in a long while that I’ve been there.