Well listies,
Baylis has done it again; made metal filings and played secretary to
rides and proceedings. Ya can't top this guy! An inch or a mile, no matter
how far ahead ya get.
Some other details to those interested in the antics of the three
stooges: The Scottish Gnome had on enough cloths to keep toasty on a 40
degree fifty miler around Central Park N.Y.C.in December. And paper too!
Times Union?
Those roads sure are nice ; soft and rolling w/ sweet downhill curves.
Not too fast, maybe 35mph. In the RAIN. Oh, and theirs a stop sign at the
bottom. Ha.
Doctor Baylis has seen into my psyche. I'm figured out. After all, Its
really only the last 200 meters that matter. But this time I got caught
completely off guard. I first heard the unmistakable "swoosh-swoosh" of
some little pisha jumping from behind. By the time my old eyes had focused
(because of the red shift caused by rapid acceleration) the green thing w/
the scream'n rider attached to the pedals and h'bars was already 3 bike
lengths ahead! I NEVER heard so much scream'n. At least not from one guy.
Sounded more like Miss Kitty's Massage parlor Saturday nite after the Fleet
comes in. Mind you, I'm not say'n that Brian screams like a woman, but he
was definitely get'n ____ed on this one. Those Nitto bars on the Riv nearly
turned into spaghetti I yanked on um so hard . 49x30, whatever gear that
is. @140rpm. Got up to his speed quickly enough, but the gap wasn't closing.
Just like cats Paw hill in Central Park,N.Y.C., ya gotta shift 1/2 of the
way up the hill. Sit, shift, stand, GO! Only she goes down two cogs instead
of the intended only one. No time. Grunt and grind. Rpm back up. Dig,
dig, DIG.
All of a sudden The Swan Song is be'n sung: "you s.o.b., you got me!
One inch, you got me". I did? I did! Didn't know exactly where the finish
line was. Brian aimed for the telephone pole. Well, at least the imaginary
line at the pole. I was aiming for the top of the hill. This particular
hill flattens out at the 3/4( where the pole lives) and then splits: right
stays flat, left goes up @ another 30 to 40 yards to Brian's house. That's
the really tough section. My left lung is buried next to a yucca bush
there. Gotta get Peter's version, his view being from the rear. Sure it
looked slow -motion in real life. Two boulders rolling uphill!
Who's Peter, the long version: Sally and I, as some of you know, are
spending the horrendous New York winter in sunny SanDiego(SSD). Our
original accommodations turned out to be not quite up to snuff. Actually ,
it smelled of mold. Out o there right quick. Found a great spot @ a block
further north in a nice apartment complex. View of the ocean, palm trees,
can even hear the waves at nite. And some damn nightengale. Yea, this
don't s__k.
Well alittle back ground is in order to comprehend the magnitude and
implications of what is to follow. My old training partner(50 miles a day,
Prospect Park, Brooklyn), Ritchie Singer (Jewish pronunciation please, not
French), who now lives just a few blocks north of us in Manhattan. He
commutes to Long Island every day on the Long Island Rail Road. Ritchie is
a master baker. You've never tasted pumpernickel raisin like his! He is
known as "The Beast". Yes, because of his ridding style. So Beast calls me
up one nite about two years ago and tells me that he just found out that
some guy, John, who he's been talk'n to on the train for the last 8 months
used to race bikes. And the guys got an old Frejus he'd like to off. Now
were talk'n. Appropriate calls and arrangements were made, salutations
exchanged along w/ some monetary remuneration to Johnny, and I was soon on
my return journey on the LIRR as the proud new owner of a little black
Frejus road bike.
Turns out Johnny the Sellers whole family was involved in racing in the
60's, 70's, and 80's in N.Y.C and Long Island. The guys brother and sister
raced and his mom was a USCF official. A commissar no less. Turns out I
used to see her at Kissena Track in the old days. Joan Durdaller(sp?).
Fast forward two years: Sally and I escape New York, get to our "new"
accommodations in SSD, and we find that the most valuable tool for newcomers
ain't in the apt: a yellow pages. A business phone book. Where's the
restaurunts, the bike shop? So I goes downstairs, gets ahold of the handyman
and in my best behavior asks him " Yo, you got a yellow pages?". To which
my Goodman replies "I sure don't". Well you can imagine the quizzical look
on this good old boys face when I got that reply. Spun me right around.
"Sure don't". What about "no"? While this scene was unfolding, some fella
was a sittin on the outside stairs listening to my inquiry, its retort, and
my subsequent dismissal.
Next nite, about 7pm, I go down stairs to check the mail and who's
come'n down the stairs located just opposite my stairs? That's right, the
guy who was sit'n on the stairs the day before. The listener. He spots me
and say's: "Just the guy I'm looking for". Well in Brooklyn, when you
here that, it generally means that some guy you owe money to has just found
you. So reasonably, my first reaction is on of extreme apprehension. Even
though I don't recognize this guy as anyone I owe the big bucks to. Heck, I
came all the way to California to get away from.... ahhhh.....well that's
another story.
So we start talk'n. Turns out he overheard my request of the day before
and was gonna gift me his phone book. Hey, I can't make this stuff up. My
imagination is not that vivid. So I ask him his name. Peter. Peter
Durdaller.
Peter Durdaller. Huhhhh? Well, my quick think'n brain says "hey, lets
have some fun with this guy!"(have you guessed yet?) So I say's " So,
ahhhh, who'd that little black Frejus belong to? You or your brother?
Well, the look on this guys face was truly priceless. First his head
tilted to one side; kind of like when you say sweet nothings to your German
Shepard. Then, once the reality of the situation had sunk in, Peter got the
full story. Yes this was the seller's brother. From Long Island, via
Philadelphia to SSD, this guy came all the way just to gift me his phone
book. It don't get no better then this. Coincidence, the intention of the
bike gods, good Karma? Destiny.
Turns out Peter raced from the age of 7 till @ 6 years ago,hanging up
his wheels at age 42. A chiropractor, he worked for the Navigator and
Saturn Teams in Europe. He's here in SSD with his new bride, a pediatric
opthalmic surgon.This guy knows.
Well, Pete's rediscovering the bike. Today was fun.
Oh yea, I almost forgot. Went over to thr bike shop this afternoon. A
new Sh..Sh..Shimano, ugh, chain has cleared up the "My derailler refuses to
go into the 30 tooth cog crisply no matter how I adjust it" problem. Hey
Brian, if we don't sprint, then what are we gonna tell our grand children
about?
ciao,
John T.Pergolizzi
glad I was finally able to get that out of me, phewww.
LaJolla Ca.
> Dear Listmembers:
>>
> Since I'm here I'll tell a story about a ride Pergolizzi and I went on
> today, along with a friend of Johns'. John has been hankerin' for a ride
> since we've had quite a bit of rain this past week or so. We figured we
> could sneek one in this morning. About 10am when they arrived at my
> house the sky was "uncertain". John was determined to get out on the
> road regardless of what we encountered weatherwise. His friend is just
> getting back on a bike after many years away from cycling. He rode JTPs'
> Cannondale MTB, John rode the Rivendell(no offence John, but the color
> of that bike gives me the same feeling as having a dead fish in my
> cycling shorts), and I rode my '73 Colnago super.
>
> John forgot his tights. He was fortunate enough though, to have a long
> sleeve wool jersey on. His friend was not outfitted with cycling clothes
> and had both short pants and shirt for the ride. These two are from NY.
> I, on the other hand, had on my bib shorts, fleecelined bib tights, a
> t-shirt, along sleeve t-shirt, a long sleeve lycra jersey, and a
> windbreaker jacket. I also wore an Italian wool cycling hat and several
> layers of newspapers on my chest. By the time we were ready to roll the
> sky had begun to look dark. We hit the road, I was toasty warm.
>
> We headed for the base of Mt. Helix as I often do as I start out on a
> loop somewhere. We rode around it until we entered El Cajon where the
> roads are lightly traveled scenic rolling hills, green with lots of
> trees. Nestled in these quaint neighborhoods are nice homes. We were
> getting rained upon to some degree or another almost from the start of
> the ride. By the time we were out in the hilly parts of El Cajon the
> rain was comming down nicely at times. It was reasonably warm rain and
> it was quite nice to ride in the rain under these conditions. It has
> been probably 20 years since I've been out on my bike in the rain, but
> John was having a ball. I was concerned about Peter but it truned out
> that he is into mountaineering. No doubt he has a different deffinition
> for cold.
>
> We really had fun, talked a lot, saw some nice roads to ride on, stopped
> in to see JB for a minute just before we got back to my place. There was
> also a dessert at the end of this ride. For those who don't know John or
> haven't ever ridden with him, please allow me to explain what he is like
> as a rider. I suspect most of us know someone like John because it seems
> there is at least one in every group. He reminds me of one of my friends
> locally, ironically, his name is John also. Pergolizzi is the bike racer
> that never quits. There is no such thing as a ride that is not "racing"
> to some degree in Johns' mind. He is conscious of every summit, city
> limit sign, etc. He is never not racing to himself, even if other riders
> aren't riding or thinking that way. Our Sunday rides end up like this as
> well. It's a guy thing. It's also racing mentality; it never leaves some
> people. It is part of every aspect of their life in people like John.
>
> What this means is that anytime you ride with John there is a race, even
> if it is only the final 200 meters of a 50 mile ride, there is going to
> be a "finish". To John, the words "finish" and "sprint", are one and the
> same. Doesn't matter if the finish is up, down, sideways, or thru a
> loop; as far as John is concerned it will be a sprint. The land around
> here is fairly hilly so we spent a fair amount of time climbing. I'm
> never really up for it but it's a fact of life in this area. I'm always
> beat by the time I get home. Unfortunately, the final .2 mi to my house
> is up this short steep curvey hill. Not much fun on my bike, especially
> when tired. As we approach this final climb by coasting downhill for a
> ways, I can tell John is thinking about getting there first. I figure
> what the hell, the LAST place I want to race is UP a damn hill. I let
> John round the corner first while I shift to my lowest cog and the small
> chainring. As I follow john around the corner I see him head down and
> struggleing to hit the low gear which hasn't been going in well. I
> figured I'd dog him since I was ready to go; so I sucker punched him and
> spun standing up past him at full speed. I gained what I knew would be a
> nearly impossible to close gap. The hill was still mostly ahead. I was
> in my lowest gear and, knowing John as I do, knew that he would not give
> up; so I continued to give it everything I had. I was suffering,
> gasping, screaming, to get everything I had out before the "finish" at
> the top. Suddenly, out of nowhere I could see Johns' shadow comming up
> behind me. He was grunting louder and harder than I was. I nearly
> crapped my shorts, but I pressed harder but could spin my gear no
> faster. I fought, I clawed, I prayed, all to no avail!
> Somehow, that SOB caught me by about an inch at the line. He told me
> that at first we were in same gear and he wasn't gaining on me. So he
> went to shift up one but he caught two gears. That's what it took to
> make up the gap. That and a big pair of huevos. By the time I saw the
> shadow I felt like he had roped me and I had stopped in my tracks as he
> rode past me. I've NEVER seen or ridden with anyone more determined than
> John. Holy Crap! He's right up there with some of my other friends.
> Really fun to ride like this. Friendly/competative is what racers do if
> and when they are not racing. It's a blast. John paid me back right away
> for putting the move on him down below. He made me pay the price for
> being one gear too low in this case. I'm giving up sprinting John; I'll
> have to find another way to beat him. I hear Silca pumps work good.
>
> After the sprint my tougne got wound up in my front wheel and I nearly
> crashed. John picked up the lung I dropped on the way up the hill for
> me. I nearly had to call for oxygen by the time I made it to my
> driveway. Boy that was fun! Naturally John says "we'll have to come out
> here and do this again". I respond, "sure John, just call me the next
> time it rains!" They went home, I went into intensive care.
>
> Sunday up to Alpine, weather permitting.
>
> Brian Baylis
> La Mesa, CA