The second day of TDC was quite different from the rest. It didn’t rain continuously for one thing. Also, I slept until 6:30, an hour later than the previous day. And I played a different role for the day.

I was chosen to act as a shadow for one of the event organizers, Lisa Chatham. Lisa is a tall, freckle-faced woman about my age. She usually wore a big smile, though when I first saw her wading among the chaos of the staring line, she had more of a deer-in-the-headlights look to her. Understandable, to say the least. It’s no easy task to corral hundreds of riders towards the finish line.

After explaining I had a few things to do before getting started, I thought better of it and stopped mid-sentence. She was wearing a dazed look.

“Look,” I said, “my job is to make your job easier. I’ll do what I need to do and not bore you with the details.” She seemed overwhelmed by all the activity so I decided not to crowd her mind with more things than necessary.

The riders took off (some of them earlier than allowed) and soon the volunteers had a breather at the empty starting line. After a few bagels were consumed, Lisa and I hopped in my car and headed towards the course.

Her job was to stay near the front of the pack and make sure things were ready for the riders. She was the assistant to the tour organizer, Kelly Evans, who rode around the other areas. Lisa and I would drive to each rest stop ahead of the riders and size them up. If they needed setting up, we’d do it. If they needed supplies, we’d offer some or track some down.

At one of these stops, Lisa was moving some chairs away from a bush. “Oh, look! That sure is old,” she said.

“Oh yeah? What did you find?” I asked as I moved the table.

“I don’t know how much you know about surveying,” she said as she studied something under the bush. Lisa was marveling at a concrete marker under the bush, marking the right-of-way of the nearby highway. That’s when I found out she’s a civil engineer. If she could get so geeky about concrete rocks, I didn’t feel too bad about my radios!

We drove on and set up at least three or four of the seven rest stops. This involved moving tables into place, unpacking the trash can full of supplies, mixing Gatorade, setting up the water pump, and, uh, testing the animal crackers. Often we would arrive minutes ahead of the first riders. It was a mad dash!

After setting up rest stop five, I made a wrong turn out of the parking lot and sent us sailing miles into the wrong direction. When we arrived in the town of Atkinson, NC, we realized we were lost. As we backtracked past rest stop five, the volunteers there laughingly pointed the right direction out to us as we passed.

Whoops! Heh.

The stops were spaced about half as far apart as Saturday’s, which meant the riders would move through them faster. Some riders skipped some stops and continued on. This put a pretty quick pace to our work as we headed up the course.

We had set up the last rest stop and were on our way to the finish line when we came across a nasty looking railroad crossing. Railroad crossings are the bane of bicycle events, as you can imagine. They eat riders, especially the “high speed rail” crossings. Yesterday’s high speed rail crossing must have tossed nearly a dozen riders out of the few hundred riding. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured.

Since this crossing was so rough looking, we opted to station ourselves at the tracks and warn the first riders to watch out. As the riders came through, they heeded our call and avoided accidents. In fact, it was almost to the other extreme. Some would slow down to the tracks and then swing out to take them at an angle, oblivious to the fact they were riding into both lanes of busy Highway 421! So if the tracks didn’t kill ’em, the cars plowing into them at 65 MPH would.

What we expected was a short stint with track duty wound up taking hours. The rain had stopped and now we were being baked by muggy sunshine. Radioing to be relieved didn’t bring help, so we did the best we could, sitting and chatting while waiting for more riders.

The sun had warmed things up quite a bit now and we realized that though we had made sure the rest stops had water, we were without. As I went to my radio to ask for water, Lisa called her sisters-in-law on her cellphone for the same thing. Soon they arrived with cold bottles for us. How happy I was to drink!

About 1 PM, we radioed again, having talked ourselves into believing the tracks weren’t so evil after all. We concluded the riders most prone to blindly charge right over the tracks were those at the front who had already crossed. In spite of our reasoning, the net controller talked us into staying another half hour. Thus, we helped the bulk of riders came by.

At 1:30, Lisa turned to me and announced, “I’m grouchy. Because I’m hot, and I’m hungry, and I’m ready to get out of here.” Uh, okay boss. Can’t argue with that.

I radioed that Lisa “really needs to be at the finish line” without specifying why and for that we got permission to proceed, once another vehicle had volunteered to take over. We headed to the finish, arriving close to 2 PM.

The finish line was filled with tired, happy riders and their families. A DJ played music (for a little while at least. He packed up and left soon afterward, for no apparent reason). The beer was flowing and the barbecue was hypnotic.

I gave Lisa some breathing room and headed over to eat. The rest of the day was spent clapping as riders arrived and pitching in wherever I could.

The two riders I’d SAGged yesterday, Kelly and her daughter Autumn, were there. They had pedaled the whole way today, which impressed me. Kelly was missing her bicycle pump, though, and needed help tracking it down. I put out a APB for it on the radio, learning it had been passed around the various SAG wagons before being given to a rider bound for the finish.

I spent an hour and a half trying to find that pump: calling the SAGs and searching the parking lot. I felt I had to help my new friends. Though the pump never did turn up, they were greatly appreciative of my efforts. And I thought it was fun.

I met Lisa’s husband at the end, too. He turned out to be a great guy himself. I volunteered to help put bikes away, which he quickly accepted. Not long afterward, though, I realized it was nearing four o’clock and I wouldn’t make it home in time for dinner with my girls. I broke the news to him and tried to pull myself away.

I still couldn’t give up on the pump, though, so I made a few more rounds before declaring defeat. I then stopped into the gift shop of the Battleship North Carolina to see if I could find the night watchman and ask him some questions. He wasn’t around, so I bought a book he wrote instead and went on my way.

Tanner, Janell and Bram were there at one point or another, so I enjoyed saying hello to them. Since we all had missions to complete, however, our downtime didn’t last nearly as long as it should’ve. Seems I turned around and they were back on the course. I called Tanner’s cellphone on the drive back to tell them how much fun it was to work with them this weekend. It really was a blast! Even Bram seemed to be having fun.

I learned on the way home that Kelly and Hallie were due to stay in Reston until Tuesday. For some reason I thought they were coming back tonight, so I suddenly wasn’t in such a hurry to return to an empty house. Even so, I made it back just in time for a severe thunderstorm to arrive.

I spent the evening watching rain fall at over five inches per hour at times, and wind blow so hard the power flickered for fifteen seconds straight. The power of nature seemed more entertaining than television or books, so I was enchanted by the raging winds and torrential rains. After it let up, I circled the town looking for damage before it began to rain again. Funny how I miss the storms when they’re not around.

I had a very full, and very fun weekend. I met some new friends, proved myself able at new skills, and left knowing I had helped make the world a better place.

I also left with a shredded contact lens and a busted car, but that’s another story. I’ll have to be creative in getting the car fixed while Kelly is away. But hey, if life was always smooth sailing, where would be the adventure?

I’m going to try to bang out a recap of today’s Tour De Cure extravaganza. Fortunately, today’s only casualty to my belongings was a torn contact lens.

Had a blast, though. Lots to write. And lots to sort out here at home. I’ll post something as soon as I can. Meanwhile, check out Tron Guy, whose fame has nearly caused UNC’s Ibiblio server to melt down (not an easy task, let me tell you).

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.

Its off to Buies Creek early tomorrow morning for the start of the Tour De Cure. I’ll be incommunicado for most of this weekend.

Y’all have fun. See you Sunday night.

Kelly had an agent bring a woman over to see the house yesterday. They spent well over an hour looking the house over! Did the crawlspace, the workshop. The whole bit. The woman asked right off the bat if there had been lots of interest. And when she saw Kelly again, she said she was taking so long because she was figuring out where to put her furniture!

Later, we went to see a house we’ve been interested in. Until today, we didn’t know it was already under contract with another buyer. Still, we spent some good time walking around and checking it out. Hallie seemed to love climbing up and down the stairs. Its a shame that we’ll probably not get a shot at buying it, though.

I’m thinking there will probably be a gap between when we sell our home and when we buy our new one. Kelly and I are kicking around what we might do if this happens. Hopefully, it won’t be an issue, but if it is, I suppose we’ll be living in an apartment for a time.

It’s tough having so many things open-ended, but we’ve got to be flexible in the near future.

Well, I finally got fed up with finding my office birdfeeder in pieces when I come in in the morning. Thus, I led a team of commandos (me, Vann, and Greg) to booby-trap the feeder. Taking a can of shortening with me, I improvised a crude spatula out of a paper plate and lathered the top of the feeder with a thick layer of shortening.

The trap was set. All that was left to do was wait.

First thing this morning, I saw signs of success! The feeder was still intact on the window, but all around the window were splotches of flung shortening! The feeder top has nice squirrelly skid marks down the sides, indicating a squirrel or two went skiing when it decided to attack my feeder.

I’m not close to declaring the war won, but I won a nice battle here. It’ll be interesting to see how the squirrels choose to escalate the conflict now. Stay tuned!

So I was chasing the Kid around the house tonight when I spied two pickup trucks parked outside. Their owners were standing behind one of the trucks, looking across the street at our house.

I thought “hmm, wonder what they’re doing there.” Then I felt pretty thick when I realized that the younger man was the one who brought his family over to see the house last night. He had told us he might bring his father over to look at the house.

Turns out that’s what he did. He and his old man stood and gawked at the house a full ten minutes or more, all from the street. I didn’t stare back, but every time I checked on them I saw big grins on their faces.

This house is soooo sold.
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We had two seperate buyers tour the home tonight. The first was a family who currently lives a 1/4 mile away. They were looking for a single-floor house since they were in their 40’s and (gasp!) “getting old.” They brought their two kids with them.

Literally within ten minutes, they were back outside, gushing and smiling. The man asked us about the closing process: surely a good sign! I think it shows that we’ve already sold the home to them on the emotional level, now we’ve got to iron out the details and sell it to them financially. Very encouraging!

The next buyer had quite a different approach. He brought a friend along and both of them spent a good twenty minutes or more going over all of the house. It was obvious he was carefully checking everything out, though he was careful not to let his enthusiasm show. Kelly had learned earlier that he recently had to bow out of a house he was building because the builder’s price had risen steeply. Thus, he had reason to be a bit more cautious.

Afterward, he remarked at how beautiful the back yard is. He’s got a point! It has never looked better, with the azaleas in full bloom and the grass neatly cut. Since he lives in an apartment now, I’m sure he has an even greater appreciation for a nice yard. It’s one feature of our house that has to be seen to appreciate, I think.

He definitely has interest. As he stated, he wouldn’t have spent so much time on it if he didn’t like what he saw. After he had gone outside, we saw him standing in the front yard looking admiringly at the house from the outside. A few minutes later, Kelly saw him drive by the house again, giving it one more look.

Both of these buyers seem quite interested. I’m really not sure which one (if any) might make an offer first. Kelly and I agree that the family seems more likely to jump. But, since they have a home they own already that they’d have to sell, they might not have the money readily available. We’ll see what happens.

Our home showed beautifully both times. It has never looked better. Kelly and I made the home look so welcoming that you would have thought we’d done this hundreds of times before.

Then there’s the fact that the house is just attractive to begin with. It’s got a big-ass helping of curb appeal that makes people want to stop and check it out. When they see the inside, I think that just seals the deal.

We’re certainly having fun with this, and – up to this point at least – things are going extremely well. The tricky part will come during the “closing dance,” where price negotiations and paperwork will play a big role. With that part, we’ll go with professionals, either through a closing lawyer or one of the a-la-carte packages some realtors offer. This will boost the price we’ve paid to sell it, but so far we’re out $20 for signs and fliers. Not too shabby!

Kelly just called and told me that another potential buyer wants to look at the house this evening! That’s two in one evening. Woot!

This process could take months. Or we could be homeless by the end of April. Who knows? The good news is that this process is going much easier than either of us expected.