Truck Plows Into Bike Race

He shook hands with, and wished good luck to, a fellow cyclist.

Such a scene is repeated before races all over the world, especially if they are amateur or club races.

Each rider might go home to his or her family or friends after the race.  Or they might share a beer or lunch.

Neither, I reckon, imagined what happened next.

A few minutes after they shook hands, Tony Quinones would witness the other cyclist, whom he had just met, flipped onto the hood of a pickup truck, along with other cyclists and their bikes.

When that truck approached the road on which they were riding, Quinones said he expected the truck to turn toward a nearby parking lot.  Instead, its driver aimed straight for the group of cyclists--and accelerated.

He didn't stop until he hit a utility pole.  Other cyclists pounded on his window, screaming for him to get out.  Instead, he made a U-turn and headed back toward the cyclists.  Quniones feared he'd strike again.  Instead, the driver sped away.

Later, that driver--identified only as a 35-year-old male--was shot by police when he didn't comply with their order to stop.

As many as ten cyclists were hurt, six of them seriously. One is in stable condition.

Photo by Tony Quinones

Authorities in Show Low, Arizona--the site of the incident--haven't ascertained the driver's motives.  About all they know is that he didn't fall asleep or have a heart attack at the wheel.

Call me paranoid, but I can't help but to wonder whether resentment and the hyper-politicized environment of the past year and half had something to do with his motivations.  

As more people cycle, and more bike lanes and infrastructure are built, I sense--and have experienced--more hostility from motorists. Some believe we are taking "their" streets from them. I also sense that some see riding a bicycle the way others (or, perhaps, they themselves) see wearing a mask.  A former colleague of mine lives in an area full of Trump supporters and was, and is, ridiculed, harassed or even threatened for covering her face.  Although she's vaccinated, she continues to protect herself because of underlying medical conditions that aren't readily visible.

And it just so happens that Arizona is one of the states where the election was most contentious.  President Joe Biden was the first Democrat the state elected to the White House in decades, and the Secretary of State has been assigned a security detail because of the death threats she's received in the wake of her refusal to overturn the election results.

Of course, I can't speak of the driver's motivations.  But could he have seen those cyclists, or anyone who wears a mask, as an "enemy?"   

Blown Off, Literally

The Blizzard is imminent.

That's what the weather forecasters have been telling us since Friday.  We're going to get hit with a nor'easter that will bury us in snow, leaving us for future archaeologists to unearth as they did in Pompeii.  And the wind will whip the snow around, leaving whirls and swirls and bubbles like frosty cappuccino foam.

Well, now I believe that the storm is coming.  The college in which I teach, and its university, will be closed tomorrow.  After all, whose wisdom is more infinite than that of our school's administrators?  Certainly not that of the National Weather Service!

All right, I'm being snarky.  At least, that's what I want to believe:  Otherwise, I'd have to accept the fact that I'm being silly.  But, whatever our storm brings, I don't think anyone will run a bike race through it.  And if there were one, I'm not even sure that my old, crazy, self would have participated.

I mean, look what happened to some riders who rode in blizzard-like conditions.



So they didn't have any snow.  They did, however, experience the sort of wind we are supposed to have tomorrow morning.  

The race in which no one could stay on his bike is the 40th edition of the Cape Town Cycle Tour.  At least, it was supposed to be.  The race was finally halted "due to safety concerns."

Given that the race is in South Africa, it's no surprise that wind wasn't the only obstacle.  Protesters, upset that pegs used as placeholders for shacks were removed, burned tires and tossed rubble on the roadway before the race. 

My Tour To Somerville

Memorial Day was cool and a bit windy.  The former part I like; the question was what to do about the latter.

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.