#1 (romantic) My Uncle raced. He and his brother raced for the Long Island Wheelmen’s Association and from what he told me, did quite well. The only ones I can document now are his 1940 win of the GBSC 100 mile road race and the 1945 50-miler CRCA scratch race. As a kid I spent lots of time with him in his crazy basement with his collection of news articles, photos, jerseys, and especially the bikes. He had several that were kept hanging on the basement wall, just begging for someone to ride them…he also had a collection of 16mm films from some of the European races in places with names I was convinced he was making up (Ghent? Wevelgem? Vlaanderen?)…and of course my favorite, Paris Roubaix…the mud, the dirty faces, the clenched teeth, the suffering...I want to suffer.
#2 (fatalistic): I am getting old and this is my midlife crisis…
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there is no crying in cycling...unless there is
About Me
- Ernesto
- just a guy entering the time in his life where he desperately wants to do something that will hide the fact that he is entering this time of his life by taking up bicycle road racing. It is cheaper than a sport car and safer than a motorcycle (I think).
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