Olympic Dream (7 page)

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.

When they reached the clubhouse, Billy quickly dismounted and came running over to him.

“Boy, I’m really sorry for what happened out there,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a little grossed out from all the filth that got kicked up,” said Doug, wiping his face with the bottom of his
T-shirt. “How come you were following so close, anyhow? You know that can be dangerous. You don’t have any room to maneuver
if anything happens.”

“You’re right,” said Billy. “I just forgot to pay attention. Before I knew it, there you were shouting at me. It threw me
for a minute.”

“But you got the message,” said Doug.

“Sure, but I put you in danger,” said Billy. “That really bums me out.”

“Well, I’m okay,” said Doug. “Hey, we’d better go inside and listen to what Red has to say.”

As they took their seats, Red was just starting to outline a training program for those who were still interested in becoming
what he called “competent” cyclists. It involved regular exercise and a daily prac
tice routine. Records had to be kept and would be discussed at future group meetings. He then handed out copies of the training
program.

Doug took one look and shook his head. At first, he couldn’t see how he could do it all. He felt like a juggler trying to
keep a whole lot of things up in the air at the same time. There was his new workout routine, cycling practice, the Rails
to Trails project, helping out getting ready for the wedding—and there were only eight weeks left of summer vacation to
do it all in! Maybe he could cut down on something.

Just as quickly, he realized he didn’t want to cut down on anything. He liked what he was doing. He felt good. He wanted to
keep feeling that way. Somehow or other, he’d find a way to work it out. Maybe he could talk it over with Red and put together
a personal schedule.

Billy’s eyes were as wide as saucers as he looked at the training program.

“Sure’s going to take a lot of work,” he said. “That’s the part I don’t really like much. But I guess we just have to do it!”

“You betcha,” said Doug.

They looked up at each and burst out laughing.

“It says here that the video arcade was completely covered by insurance,” said Mr. Cannon, looking up from the evening paper.
It was two weeks after the Lakeridge Cycling Club’s first ride together. He and Doug had gone out to the porch after dinner.
As usual, Doug was stretched out on the swing.

“Are they going to rebuild?” he asked his father. “That’ll take forever.”

“Not right away,” came the reply. “No, they’re looking for some vacant space downtown to relocate. Hope to be open in a few
weeks.”

Doug brightened up. He was sore and achy from his cycling exertions. Maybe playing some videos would be just the kind of break
from routine he needed.

Red had agreed that Doug could count his rides to and from the Rails project as part of his training pro
gram. When he sat down with Doug to go over the plan, Red had carefully worked out the time and effort it took to get to the
job site by traveling different routes. He figured how much rest there ought to be after each trip, how much actual on-the-job
stuff Doug did, and so on and so forth. Finally, he had a neat chart with everything on it for the five working days of the
week.

“Weekends are completely up to you, pal,” he said.

Doug’s eyes grew huge. “Wow! This is a real serious, honest-to-goodness fitness program!”

Red laughed. “Of course it is! Fitness is nothing more than getting into shape. Only with this program, you’re getting into
shape
and
developing a special skill at the same time. Hey, it’s two for the price of one!”

“Gee, thanks a lot,” said Doug, looking a little bit skeptical.

“You just watch,” said Red with a laugh. “You’re gonna love it.”

By this time, Doug had survived the purchase of some decent cycling clothes. Mrs. Cannon had volunteered to take him over
to the mall to pick them out. But Doug had a different plan in mind. He arranged to meet Mr. Cannon at his office one lunch
hour. Together, they visited a specialty sporting goods store some distance from the mall.

Mr. Cannon waited quietly while Doug tried on different outfits and finally selected a shirt and shorts combo that didn’t
make him look too much like a blimp. Still, he vowed to wear the outfit only when biking. With the helmet and goggles he already
had, he figured he’d look okay.

At first, Doug thought his father didn’t approve of what he had picked out. But then Mr. Cannon had pulled out his charge
card and asked the sales clerk to bring three more of each item to the counter. As they were being rung in, Doug thanked his
father.

“I consider it money well spent, son,” he replied.

Suited up in his new gear, Doug had faced his first week of real training with enthusiasm. In fact, the only thing bothering
him had nothing to do with biking. As the summer days ticked along, it was the wedding— and the tuxedo and the as-yet-unbought
wedding gift—that weighed on his mind.

Now, sitting on the front porch, Mr. Cannon inadvertently gave Doug an idea about how to solve one of those two problems.

“Oh, by the way, I saw something in the paper that
might interest you,” said Mr. Cannon. “There was a small item that said Jack Millman, the head of the Lakeridge Cycling Club,
just announced that they’re going to hold a charity event. Called it the Tour de Lakeridge. Sounds pretty fancy, but it said
it’s for all ages and levels. You know anything about that?”

Doug scratched his head.

“Oh, yeah, he mentioned that the first day I went over to the club. But I don’t really know much about it. I’ll check with
Red.”

On Monday, when they took their midday break at the Rails to Trails project, Doug asked Red about this Tour de Lakeridge.
As soon as he mentioned the subject, Red was all smiles.

“Darn! Newspaper beat me to it!” he said. Then he showed Doug a roll of posters he’d brought along in his backpack that day.
They were greenish blue, with a picture of a racing cyclist and all the words in white.

“I could use some help putting them up around town,” said Red.

They look real neat, Doug thought. “Sure,” he said. “But what
is
it, anyhow? Sounds French.”

Red explained that a “tour de” was just a cycling term for a “trip around” somewhere. And this partic
ular tour was a charity event. It was also an unofficial tour. The results didn’t go into any record book.

In this case, there were a number of different routes of different lengths so that anybody could enter. The idea was for participants
to get people to pledge a certain amount of money per mile. Then the bikers would complete the circuit and collect the donations.
The proceeds all went to charity.

“The club has participated in a number of these events, but this is the first time we’ve had one of our own,” said Red.

“How come?” asked Doug.

“It’s a lot of work getting it organized,” Red replied, thumping the posters. “Plus you really need a good-size membership
to start off with. Of course, anyone can enter, not just members. So it could be pretty big.”