It's Sunday, the 7th of June, 7:00 am as I swing a leg over the Bruce Gordon for one last ride. MJ gives a cherry toot on the the Black Market Bikes SUV horn as she pulls in to pick up Wayne and the fairground workers, and I wave as I pedal out of the lot. Fleecy banks of fog all the way down to the deck are all around as I cover the short distance to the W&O bike path. There's an organized ride at 9:00, sponsored by the local club, but I just want an hour on the path before I shower, pack, load up the van, check out of the hotel and head for the big climax of the weekend, the Cirque du Cyclisme Sunday show.
Rolling east on the path, the fog is turning golden as the sun comes up, the honeysuckle festooning the fences and trees lining the path are perfuming the air and larks, thrushes and wrens are providing the grace notes to the Gordon's tires thrumming on the pavement. Ghostly riders materialize out of the fog and disappear behind me. My wool jersey is soon bedewed with droplets which makes me sparkley when the sun peaks through a break of the fog banks. Wasn't it just 20 minutes ago that I drove into Leesburg? And now it's Sunday already? Why do these Cirque weekends fly by so fast? And I realize, that jeeze, am I happy.
Memories crowd in as I roll along: the Thursday night reception at Mel Pinto's old shop, where Wayne allows us to ferret about in the back store rooms. It's an Alladin's cave of treasure for bike nuts, with laminated toe straps sitting next to scads of cotton bar tape, chrome fenders and stays rubbing shoulders with rare Stronglight cranks, really too much stuff to take in on a casual run through. MJ pats me down as I leave, to make sure the belly in my shirt is all me, not rare bike treasures. I'm tempted to go back so she can frisk me twice.
Friday is rainy, so the fixed gear ride is rerouted to a non dirt route to avoid mud. We are urging each other to get in touch with our inner Belgian and brave the elements, but my outer wuss is dominant, so I hang around the hotel. Bikes are everywhere, leaning against chairs, lining the hallway, a fairyland of cycles. The evening auction is fine, good items, some spirited bidding, thousands raised for charity and done by around 10:00. I enjoyed the old auctions, but ths is much more humane on the bidders.
Saturday I take the short route ride at 9:00, which turns out to be a mistake as the hammerheads are setting the pace. I follow my usual strategy of getting dropped quickly and then taking the 1st possible wrong turn so I can then ride as slow as I like anwhere I want. Wayne handed out good directions so it's no real problem. There's some really nice riding in the Leesburg area, and I eventually end up back at the hotel. The seminars are fun and informative, with lively discussion from the audience. I'm splitting time between the seminars and the bikes out in the hallways, when a stranger walks in with a beautiful Baylis/Howard Wizard. All NOS, he says, giving his name as Robert (I think), but I don't catch the last name. The bike is build with black Dura Ace, SSC rims and lots of other goodies. Robert, if you're on the list, that was a gorgeous bike. did anyone get some pics?
Then five of us went out to have the worst service at dinner in history. Our waitress was a green young gal who didn't really know what she was doing, and she received no help from the management or the kitchen. It's impossible to list all that went wrong, but for example, the appetizers, salads and soups came out with the entrees, all of us got our food at different times, she didn't know how to open a bottle of wine, the 2nd bottle was sour, poor Bob Frietas never got his entree, they short changed me $10.00, and on and on. There was one other thing, but Mike Schmidt made us promise not to mention it, so I won't talk about Mike being faked out by a decoy pepper grinder. The food was edible, but I can't recommend the place. Oh well, at least they didn't poison us.
So now it's Sunday, and I have to turn back on the W&O path to make it to the Fairgrounds for the show. The show itself has been pretty well documented for the list, so I won't go over it again. The remaining time runs by in a blur, and then it's load up the car and start the 2 day drive back to Kansas.
If I noticed anything, it's that there seems to be lots more rando, touring and town bikes around, and less pure racing machines as a percentage of the displayed bikes. Maybe as the hobby matures, more and more folks are buying and showing new bikes, and if you buy a new lugged steel bike today, you're probably asking for racks, fenders and lights. Lots of Wiegles, Bilenkeys, Mariposas, etc etc. But it's still a Masi that wins peoples choice. Some things never change.
All cirques are different, and yet all are the same: you see your good friends again and spend hours chatting, you admire new bikes and see old two wheeled friends, you get in some good riding and the whole thing flies by in the blink of an eye. I hope that those who couldn't come this year will be able to join us again in 2010. A big thanks to Wayne and MJ, and may the Cirque live forever. Support it, if you can.
Tom Adams
Manhattan, KS, USA