Olympic Dream Page 5

  As they took their seats, a lot of people came up and said a few words to Red. It was obvious that he was one of the most popular members of the club.

  Just before the talk began, he saw Billy Torrant come in and take a seat in the back row. Darn it, he thought, I wish I’d told him I was coming.

  Doug settled in for the talk, which was mostly about membership dues, forthcoming events, and what the club offered in training —nothing that really impressed him that much. By the end of the talk, he’d pretty much decided that he’d be better off getting into cycling on his own. This group was too slick for him.

  Then came the question-and-answer session. The first question came from Billy.

  “Yuh, I’m Billy Torrant,” he said, “And I’m sort of a newcomer in town as well as in cycling. It doesn’t sound to me like there’s a lot here for those of us just starting out.”

  Doug could hardly believe what he was hearing. Other than the part about being new in town, it was exactly what he’d been thinking.

  Jack Millman explained that the club had just put together a real basic, start-from-scratch, nuts-and-bolts program for new racers. In fact, the leader of that program was in the audience and he wanted to introduce him.

  “Will Red Roberts please stand up?” he said.

  As Red got to his feet, Doug almost fell off his chair in surprise. Then Red’s “Son of a gun!” and wicked smile from the other day popped right back into his mind. When Red sat back down, Doug grinned at him and nodded knowingly. Red grinned back.

  After a few more questions, Jack Millman made a final announcement.

  “I just want to let everyone know that the Lake-ridge Cycling Club is also going to be holding our own event in the near future. That’s right, we’re working on putting together the Tour de Lakeridge. We’ll let you know when we have all the details worked out.”

  Doug applauded politely with everyone else, then joined Billy and a few other kids heading in Red’s direction.

  “Okay,” said Red. We’ll start regular training this coming Monday, but first we have to get down to some basics. That means your bikes, to begin with. Let’s go take a look and see what we have.”

  Doug followed the group of about a dozen kids out to the front of the club, where their bikes were parked. He listened as Red went over each bike with its owner, pointing out the good parts and then the problems. Red’s once-over of his bike took no time. He just told everyone that it was a good, sturdy, well-constructed bike that would probably serve a long time before its owner moved on to a fancier model.

  Doug wasn’t all that sure that he would last long enough in cycling for such a move, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Okay, come on back inside,” said Red. “We have some more things to talk about before we go for a short test ride.”

  When they were all settled in one section of the meeting room, Red made an announcement.

  “We have to talk about clothing,” he stated.

  That was greeted with audible groans from the group.

  Doug smiled to himself: At least I’m not the only one in this pickle.

  Red started from the bottom up.

  “The bad news,” he informed the group, “is that you’re all going to have to wear proper cycling shoes. Sneakers just don’t work. They don’t slip in and out of your toe clips easily and they’re too flexible. You waste a lot of energy in that flex. Plus, believe it or not, they’re too heavy. Cycling shoes are designed for just what they do best. Hey, you wouldn’t play basketball in combat boots, would you?”

  That made the group laugh and lightened things up a little.

  “Next, you all might think you look real cool in your shorts and tank tops, but mark my words, you’re not going to be all that happy when you start cycling for any real distances.”

  By the time he got through explaining the cons of the wrong clothes and the pros of the right kind, everyone in the group was convinced that they should go along with Red’s recommendations.

  “I don’t expect everyone to be suited up right the first week,” Red added. “But by week number two or three I think it would be a good idea.”

  Doug overheard two girls discussing buying outfits. “Well, at least they won’t be bulky like that ski stuff we bought last winter!” one of them giggled.

  Yeah, they’re skintight, thought Doug. Well, if that’s what it takes to get going. I guess I’ll have to do it.

  “Now, let’s go hit the road for a little practice run,” said Red. “I’ll lead off and stay in front for the first half. When we start heading back here, I’ll drop to the rear and pull up alongside you just to see how you’re doing. It’s not going to be a very long trip, so don’t worry about being in shape for it. We’ll get into that on Monday, too.”

  The group followed Red back outside and over to the bike rack. Doug put on his helmet and climbed on his bike. Billy, he saw, was right next to him.

  “Hey, how’re you doing?” Billy said. “I was going to call you and tell you I was coming to this thing, but I never got around to it.”

  “Me, too,” said Doug.

  “Ready?” Red called out from the front of the pack. “Let’s go!”

  “Catch you later,” said Billy.

  Doug nodded.

  Off they went, following their leader. Red set a nice, easy pace. Neither Doug nor Billy had any problem keeping up with him. A few girls eager to show off pulled up almost alongside him, but he waved them back. Otherwise the ride was uneventful. Even on the way back when Red was observing them, they resisted the natural temptation to push a little harder. Everyone stayed at pretty much the same pace.

  “Not bad,” said Red back in the parking lot. “Let’s all get together Monday afternoon at three for an indoor training session. From then on, we’ll be pretty much outside. We’ll have once a week, Saturday morning talks inside, but the real work is done on the road.”

  “So, how’d we do?” asked one of the girls, who Doug had discovered was named Jenny.

  “Well, Jen, I’ll tell you that none of you is ready for the Tour de France, but I see some potential,” said Red. “Well let it go at that.”

  He went off to talk with a few club members.

  “We’ll leave in a few minutes, okay?” he called back to Doug. “Catch your breath. If you want, there’s a machine inside that has chilled bottled water. Do you need any change?”

  “Nope, I’ve got lots,” said Doug.

  When Red moved away, Doug looked around and saw that Billy was still there—and he was wiping off his forehead with his bandanna.

  “Hey,” Doug called over. “I’m going to get something cold to drink inside. Can I get you one?”

  “Sure, that’d be great, said Billy. “I’ve got a pretty long trip back home, and the stuff in my bottle here is probably pretty warm by now.”

  When they were sipping their drinks, Doug asked Billy, “So what brought you here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” said Billy with a little laugh.

  “Red told me about it,” said Doug.

  “Me, too,” said Billy. “I guess you guys are pretty good pals.”

  Doug sipped his drink and told Billy how great it was having Red staying at the carriage house. As they talked, he even confessed how worried he was about looking like a penguin at his sister’s wedding when the time came.

  “Hah!” Billy laughed. “And I probably look like a giraffe to some people! What a pair, huh?”

  “Yeah, we’re just a couple of animals,” said Doug.

  They clinked water bottles in a silent toast.

  7

  “Half day?”

  Doug nodded.

  Jimmy Bannister crushed the soda can with his right hand and tossed it into the rubbish bag. “Boy, some guys have it made,” he said. But before Doug could start to explain, Jimmy went on, “Hey, just kidding. Red told me he’s got big plans for you later on. He’s taking off a little early, too. You go on and show ‘em your s
tuff, kid.” He turned and headed back to the work crew.

  Red had suggested that Doug might want to take the afternoon off and work the next one instead. They’d agreed he’d work Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays on the Rails to Trails project. It was getting to the point where even Doug could see the progress they were making. The old railbed was slowly but surely being replaced by a recreation track.

  He could even see a little progress of his own.

  At first, he’d been the project’s “gofer”—he’d “go fer” whatever anyone else needed—but now he was called to lend a hand on most of the strenuous jobs. The worst was a messy pile of old railroad ties. They’d obviously been there for years and were partially rotted. It had to be cleaned up right away for scheduled work to continue.

  Tommy Lopardo had called over to Doug to give them a hand. Doug hefted a tie under each arm and lugged them away to the dump pile.

  Andy Potts, thinking Doug was beyond hearing, had commented, “who would’ve thought that the fat kid who showed up here a couple of weeks ago would ever be able to do that?”

  At first, that had made Doug angry. But he quickly realized that Andy hadn’t meant to be cruel. The truth was, Doug hadn’t been able to do the heavy work—not at the beginning of the summer, anyway. But since he’d started working on his cycling he felt better all around. Now he could give them a hand.

  He put in his full effort that Monday morning and, following Red’s advice, left at lunchtime.

  When he got home, no one was there, so he checked the refrigerator. Lots of good things inside. He could make himself a hero sandwich with cheese and mayo and mustard, just the way he liked it. Then a big drink of milk, followed by a piece of leftover blueberry pie.

  Instead, he made salad with lots of lettuce and thick slices of tomato. He added some sliced cold chicken and a splash of his mom’s own salad dressing. She always kept a jar of it in the refrigerator.

  As he dug in, he realized that Red’s good eating habits just might be getting to him.

  After cleaning up, he decided he deserved a little rest. It was off to the porch for a quick nap. Fifteen minutes later, a voice told him it was time to go over to the cycling club.

  “Come on, Doug, time to get rolling,” called Red from the driveway.

  Doug leapt up. He felt rested and raring to go.

  At the club, he discovered that the group had shrunk to nine. Two of the girls and one guy had dropped out. But he was pleased to see that Billy was there. They gave each other the thumbs-up sign.

  Red gathered the group of six boys and three girls, with their bikes, into a circle.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to go over some basic pointers and I’m going to use Doug here to demonstrate. I got Doug started out on his first twelve-speed racer a few weeks ago —”

  Doug preened under Red’s attention.

  “But, believe me, he’s as much a beginner as the rest of you.”

  That took a little of the stuffing out of Doug’s chest.

  Red then proceeded to work with each of them. He started with getting comfortable in the saddle.

  “Put one foot on the pedal,” he said. “Slip it into the toe clip. The tip of your other foot should just barely touch the ground. You’ll be able to push off and then slip that second foot in. If you put both of them in and you’re not leaning against something, you’re going to keel over.”

  That makes sense, Doug realized. He’d just done it that way from the beginning without thinking about it. Red was great at making things come together in your head.

  “Okay, what about your hands? What’s the best place for them on the handlebars? Let’s take a look,” Red said. He showed them how different positions affected their riding comfort—and their ability to control the brakes.

  “My own favorite is above the brake hoods,” he said. “I just let my palms rest lightly on the hoods so that I can react quickly when I need to.”

  After a few more pointers on riding comfort and bike handling, he talked about safety.

  “It’s a good idea, too, for us to go over basic safety,” he said. He read off a checklist that covered the basic traffic rules:

  Always wear a helmet.

  Obey all traffic rules.

  Always ride on the right side of the road, in the same direction as the traffic.

  Wait your turn at intersections.

  Don’t sneak up on cars stopped at traffic lights.

  Always turn from the proper lane—no shortcuts.

  Always give a hand signal before turning.

  Never weave in and out of traffic.

  Be extra careful passing parked cars.

  Watch out for pedestrians—you never know what they’re going to do.

  Check your bike before setting off— especially the brakes.

  “Plus there’re others for riding at night, but none of you should be doing that yet, so let’s just say, ‘Don’t ride at night,’ ” Red concluded.

  Doug, remembering his accident, could have added that you shouldn’t go faster than you’re able to see in front of you—but he figured that would sound stupid. Not everyone rode at breakneck speed when they didn’t really know the road they were on.

  “One final thing before we hit the road,” said Red. “Right now, you should just be concentrating on learning how to get comfortable with your bikes. Nobody’s interested in how fast you can go. This isn’t a race. No one is going to come in first, second, third—or last. The idea is just to learn how to enjoy what you’re doing, and to do it well. Got that?”

  Everyone shouted out their agreement.

  It was a good thing that Red’s talk didn’t last much longer. Doug could hardly wait to get out on the road and do his stuff. He was still a bit cocky about having a little jump on the rest of the group.

  When they finally did take to the road, he found himself pushing just a little to stay close behind Red. Once in a while, one of the others overtook him. It took him completely by surprise when he discovered he really didn’t like that.

  But one of his most enjoyable times was when Billy rode up alongside him. They didn’t talk while they were out on the road, but there was a definite communication between them. Doug noticed Billy glancing over, as if to take some tips. It made him feel good.

  The route that Red had chosen was the same as on Saturday. It consisted mostly of straightaways and a few regular right-angle turns. There were no dangerous curves or tough hills to climb.

  Since it was his second time on that same route, Doug could relax a little. He discovered that it felt good just to ride along. Now and then, Red would drop back or pull alongside one of the riders and call out some instruction.

  “Head up and eyes on the road!”

  “Steady pace, easy does it!”

  “Where’s that turn signal? Get that arm out!”

  The only time he came up to Doug, he called over in a quiet voice, “Nice going,” and moved right on ahead.

  They were homeward bound when Doug noticed that Billy had pulled up a long way ahead of him. In fact, he was trailing Red so closely, you could almost call it tailgating. So far nobody had committed that mistake and Red hadn’t commented on it.

  But Doug knew, instinctively, that it wasn’t a smart thing to do. He was too far back to call out to Billy and warn him. He had to get a little closer.

  A bit of tension crept into Doug’s body as he started to make his move. He tried to remember everything Red had taught him way back about shifting gears and changing his pace. But the gear thing was still tricky. He decided that he’d go the old-fashioned way and just pedal harder.

  It was hard, slow work. But gradually, he got within hailing distance of Billy’s back. He was about to call ahead when he realized the sound might not carry. After all, it seemed as though Red wasn’t able to hear Billy so close behind. His only choice was to come up alongside Billy.

  Warning messages flashed inside his head. He could hear Red telling the group, “If you want to
ride side by side, be sure there’s room on the road, good visibility, and not much traffic.”

  Doug checked off the list. There was plenty of room since they were on a road with a wide, well-paved breakdown lane. Visibility was clear. His target was within his sight.

  Traffic. That was the problem. There were lots of trucks out this afternoon that hadn’t been there on Saturday. This time of day, a lot of people were heading home and the road was well traveled by all kinds and sizes of vehicles. Up until now, the group had kept single file to the far right-hand side of the breakdown lane. Even if a motor vehicle encroached on that area, there was a reasonable margin of safety.

  Doug glanced over his shoulder to the left. The congested road had caused the motor vehicle traffic to slow down a little. Good, he thought, that’ll keep ‘em slow and steady.

  He figured he’d have just the one shot, so he had to go all out. Reaching back into his memory, he shifted gears, silently praying he had done the right thing.

  A change in the pressure and response to his pedaling told him something had happened. At the same time, he could see the distance between him and Billy getting smaller. It was working.

  He pulled up to Billy’s left side and called over, “Pull back! You’re practically on top of him!”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. At first, Billy looked over at him as if he hadn’t a clue. Then he got it. He slowed down the pace of his pedaling. The distance between him and Red gradually opened up.

  At the same time, Doug let his own pace slacken. He was starting to drop back behind Billy when he suddenly heard a roaring sound to his rear.

  It could only mean one thing: a vehicle coming up behind him.

  Before he could even think of what to do, an open-top sports rec vehicle came gunning down the breakdown lane. It passed all the other bikers, then, without slowing for an instant, zoomed by Doug. It seemed to miss him by inches.

  It also kicked up a lot of dust. Some found its way into Doug’s nose and mouth and eyes. For a few seconds, he coughed and sputtered before gaining back his vision. By then he could see that he was almost back in line behind Billy where he belonged.