Of course, if you're a savvy old cyclist, you plan a ride in which you're pedaling into the wind on your way out. That way, the wind blows you back home.
Plus, Arielle was begging not to go on just any old ride. She wanted to see a race.
Because she's been good to me, I granted her wish. Actually, she granted mine, too: I felt like taking a nice, long ride.
Where did we end up?
No, we didn't go to the hotel, as interesting as it is. But we went to the eponymous county--out in West-Central New Jersey.
Said hotel is located in the county seat, just down the street from the courthouse. The name of that town is Somerville. If you're a bike racing fan, you've heard of it:
The Tour of Somerville Cycling Series is a three-day event that includes several races (including a women's race) andculminates with a Senior Men's 50-mile race on the afternoon of Memorial Day. The series has run every year since 1947. Actually, 1940 witnessed the first Series; World War II suspended it from 1943 to 1946. The Senior Men's Race is officially named the Kugler-Ross Memorial Tour of Somerville, in honor of the first two winners: Furman Kugler (1940 and 41) and Carl Anderson (1942). Both were killed while fighting the war.
For a long time--particularly during the Dark Ages of US cycling (roughly the two decades after World War II), the ToS was, arguably, the sport's biggest--or only--showcase in the US. Whoever won the race was generally acknowledged to be the best American cyclist.
Calling the race a "tour" in not some francophilic (or europhilic) affectation. Rather, it was a legalism the race's founder pulled off just so it could be held at all. At the time, New Jersey state law prohibited racing for prizes on highways. Somerville's Main Street is State Highway 28. So Fred Kugler (Furman's father) labelled the Somerville event a "tour".
As you might expect, many townspeople and residents of nearby communities turn out for the event, as there is no admission charge. Also, because the races are held on a loop of closed-off street and are therefore fast and full of tight turns, they excite even non-cycling fans.
One of the more amusing aspects of the race is watching people cross the street after the peloton has passed--until the next lap, anyway.
They have to be quick:
Otherwise, they could meet an unhappy ending:
All right. He didn't cross the path of the peloton. He wandered into US Highway 22, which I crossed en route. Perhaps another race will be a memorial for him.
Seriously, everyone else seemed to be having a good time. And, given the routes I took, I ended up doing a century. I mean, an Imperial, not a Metric One. 101 miles, to be exact.
