It was either '76 or '77 when I first started riding with the Southern Tier Bicycle Club. I have so many fond memories of my experiences with this friendly bunch. This summer I cleaned out a bunch of stuff from my mom's house, and it wasn't surprising to me that one of the few objects that I didn't toss over the years was this patch. I think I need to frame it.
I don't know how I found out about the club, but one day I joined them on one of their shorter group rides, and I was hooked. According to their
website, the group was formed in 1969. It's probably what motivated me to buy a helmet, as helmets were required equipment, and I haven't cycled without a helmet since, no exceptions. [I have very strong feelings about bike helmets—everyone should wear one at all times, unless you have a death wish. There is no good argument not to. If you ever wonder why so many kids don't wear helmets and continue on helmet-less as adults, just look at all of the adults around modeling poor behavior.]
The STBC members were incredibly kind and welcoming to this geeky and needy high school kid. They accepted me and my crappy bike with no reservations and soon I was going on rides every weekend. This is when I really started to learn how to ride with a group and pace myself over long stretches. I learned about how to shift in anticipation of hills, manage my cadence and keep hydrated. I also learned that riding with others could be so much fun. I recall lots of great conversations and joking around, and so many of the group rides were centered around fun activities like ice cream sampling and bar hopping (sadly I was excluded from the latter.) This was before performance clothing was regularly used, though some had bike shorts with real chamois. Cotton was the norm for me and most of the others.
Much of what I learned from club members came through observation and inquiry. I learned about a wide range of gear including racks and panniers, as well as the difference between frame materials and geometry. It was helpful to learn about what tools and supplies to haul, and how to quickly fix a flat roadside on a bike without quick release skewers. (Imagine having to carry wrenches with you and having to remove your wheel from the frame, fix the flat, then tighten up. This adds time, weight and frustration.) Some bike clubs are fairly ruthless if you break down, with most, if not all, riders continuing on while you take care of things. The STBC was the opposite. While there may have been a few fancypants racerboys who kept going, the vast majority of the group would patiently wait and help out.
The day I discovered that I suffered from hayfever and also got my first taste of rabbit was a memorable ride from Vestal to the Montrose PA area. As was often the case with club rides, the destination was someone's house. I really liked how members welcomed relative strangers to their homes. We ended up at someone's home with significant acreage. I can't remember if it was a family farm or not, but we were treated to a hay ride and a huge meal. Moments after the hay ride began, I started sneezing and it quickly became out of control. Everyone asked me if I had allergies and I had not idea that this was the case. I was miserable for the rest of the week, but the consolation was that I learned that grilled rabbit is actually quite tasty, rather like chicken!
In an earlier post, I noted how my bike was a mule for newspapers. Sunday papers were huge, and I routinely strapped 50+ pounds of paper around my shoulders and gingerly made my way to my route. One day I really payed the price for this long-term bicycle abuse. I was on a long-ish (50-mile) ride and on my way back home in downtown Binghamton, I hit a small pothole, heard a big, nasty clunking sound, and suddenly my rear wheel started grinding. It didn't take long to discover that I snapped my axle in half! My dad had to come to pick me up, and while that was the only time I needed to be rescued, my dad was none too pleased.
My most profound memory of STBC rides was my first century ('78 or '79), a trip from Vestal to Ithaca and back. The ride was significant for two reasons, the distance and the destination. I've been on lots of shorter rides that were more challenging, but your first century is usually a significant milestone. I had real doubts about being able to make that kind of distance, and I certainly wouldn't have taken on that challenge without the company of a supportive group. The ride went well, and I was completely blown away by Ithaca, a small city that I had never visited before that trip. I think we ate at Moosewood, and that experience got me started with vegetarianism. (I've been a vegetarian for 27 years now.) I fell in love with the town that I have called home for the last twelve years, and I can clearly trace my desire to want to live in Ithaca to that trip. I loved how Ithaca felt like a cohesive, vibrant locale, and the progressive politics on display was very appealing to me. (I was a fairly strident lefty, even as a teenager.) Also, in addition to the natural beauty of the city and surrounding area, I liked the compact footprint of the downtown area and the fact that the housing stock was older, well-maintained, and relatively free of vinyl and aluminum siding. When I finally got my first car, I would often take the long way home to Binghamton via Ithaca, just to visit my favorite small city. Yes, Ithaca certainly has its own issues (intolerance, piousness, too many people leave town), but it has been a wonderful place to call home.
If you are (or were) a member of the Southern Tier Bicycle Club and you happen across this blog, I want to publicly thank you for making my teenage years better! I was a pretty miserable kid for a number of reasons, and your kindness will never be forgotten. Feel free to comment.
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