Cycle News - Archive Issues - 1960's

. 21 By Anna Lillian Sincer Let me tell, if I may, without seeming to boast Of a ride that we made from coast to coast ' On a motorcycle so shiny and new-And no steed was ever more taithful and true. It was a beautiful thing, all polish and chrome, And my husband was anxious to get it back home. A German B.M.W., the best bike made, And nothing could ever induce him to trade. The world's tinest cycle, do not mistake it. Could outpettotm any that's willing to ·take it". Precision-made, workmanship unparalleled, In etticiency, comfort, sate driving excelled. A connoisseur's dram, quiet and trouble-free-These words are my husband's--and well, 1 agree. Through Europe he cruised it in pomp and in style, Some tour thousand miies-s-not a scratch did detile The bright, glossy surface, though he rode constantly Through rough roads and weather, it was accident-free. With this accomplished, he put it aboard ship, And stayed by , his beauty" the length ot the trip, Then oft the boat wheeled it, as proud as a pup, And rode it five miles-and then cracked it up! And there lay his motor, all busted and shattered ' And so was his arm, but that never mattered. His heart was dismayed, yet with practical view, He had it repaired until it was like new. And the money he save buying it abroad Was spent for repairs--how elusive a hoard! It was then that he called me, long distance, no less, And I flew to his side to console his distress ; That he'd ship it back home, I had never a doubt. st (But there are some things that a wife mu tind out ). Just a mention of this, and his angry voice flipped ·1'11 drive this thing home--l will not have it shipped." 1 looked at my husband, and shook with alarm, • But honey, • 1 quavered, • you've broken your arm." My husband again sai d, and hi s voice was grim, "Fm driving it home,·--There was no changing him. I mustered my courage as best as 1 could, And went along with him as any wife should. We left the East Coast on the fourth of July, And 1 prayed in my heart that the weather be dry, For any experienced cyclist knows That rain is his enemy--greatest ot toes. 1 was without helmet-this fact was deplored. My riding regalia was home, salely stored. So 1 wore a beret, as pert as can be, One that was purchased in gay old Paris, And my best Sunday coat with so jaunty an air, Compared to my husband, I appeared debonair. We left at five-thirty, with dispatch ant! aplomb, On that quiet July morning--we shot oft like a bomb. 1 sat on the saddle, and clung to the strap, Soon I'd be accustomed--this was just the first lap. The air was quite bracing, our spirits were high, Not a cloud marred the heavens this fourth of July. -- The motor purred nicely, my fears were contained, But just ten miles out--Oh, brother, it rained! Down came the deluge , to be more precise, It pelted our faces like pebbles of ice. We were soaked to the skin before we could don, Our raincoats and rain pants and boots that snapped on. W entered a restaurant, everyone stared, e W hade l ett a wet trail--the proprietor glared. e With breakfast consumed, we continued our bout, After fifty miles later we rode the rain out. The journey continued, and soon I'd become A littl e relaxed. How that motor did hum. My husband, no slouch, gave it all that it had, For a one-armed driver, he didn't do bad. We zoomed through four states the very titst day, Drove five hundred miles on that holiday. Saddle-sore, weary, we could hardly unbend, A motel seemed like heaven at this day's end. But up with the sun at the crack of the dawn, Start up the motor--away, we were gone! Th e next day went smoothly, the motor just whined, Over beautiful highways, we lett three states behind. It wrapped up the mileage, that baby had power, And the fastest we rode w~s one hundred per hour. A smooth-riding cycle that seemed jet-propelled, The longer I rode it, my fears were dispelled. No incident marred this day as a Whole, At dusk we were seven hundred miles nearer our goal. This was the most mileage we made in one day, No cloud marred the heavens, nor dimmed the sun's ray. It took seven days, we did ascertain, Seven days of hard driving--six days we hit rain. My husband declared, • Let's take the norlb route, And avoid the hot weather." That I didn't doubt, Yet 1 nodded numbly, as the wild wind whipped free, For 1 was his wife, and as such did agree, But oh how 1 froze , my face was so cold, My shaking and shivering could not be controlled. The wind trom Lake Erie lashed like a curse, Now I have been sunburned, hut wind-burn is worse. I'll gloss orer lig/ltly the llext day or two, We saw beautitul couutry, but with purpose in view To traverse the miles quiclc1y--they were gone in a flash Trees dwindled to tences in our cross-country dash. ' 1 smile when 1 think at the picture we made, My husband in suitable garments arrayed, Helmeted and goggled, with beard tairly tlying, Like a man trom space, and like him, space-detying. While 1 with inadequate riding array Had acquired a red nose bellealb my Paris beret ; For our haste to get home lett us no time to tuss And the sight that we made must hare been lUdi~ous. And many did wonder at us as we passed, The curious clustered about where we • gassed·. We made a sensation where cycles were rare, Our comic appearance caused people to stare. We rode mostly in silence, so great was our haste We dispensed with small talk, considered it a w~te, But wpeu ot necessity, he'd turn his head, And 1 d strain my ears to hear what he said, The wind took his words, and blew them apace, And all that 1 caught was a beard in my face. And many times too, 1 must contide During that long and strenuous ride I'd grip at the strap, and fall fast asleep Rocked in the arms of Morpheus, deep. ' And the Wind, as the miles went zipping by, Whistled to me its shrill lullaby. We rode through the badlands of Dakotas one day, And greeted Mt. Rushmore's most lavish display-Such be~ty at structure, such grandeur of face, Of WashlDgton, Jetierson, chiseled in space; Of Old Honest Abe, and rough-riding Teddy -The sight at these tour brougbt our camera ready To take pictures of men made historically tamous, While tourists quite candidly took pictures of us. It rained there at Rushmore, the dark leaden sky Foretold a wet night, and the lightning raced high. W~ were ~ wet a~d co!d that a cabin that night WIth a bnght-blazlng tire was a quite welcome sight. • N'!t a night tit tor man or beast,· my husband quoth he, While 1 warm and cozy, could but agree. Half we known what the next day would bring tottn, 1 am sure We d have stayed in our beds, and the door made secure ' Nor have ventured outside on a day such as this-Where there is ignorance, there is sweet bliss. We climbed many mountainous roads ou Ibis day Whose twists and turns gave the motor full pla y: And the heights that we left in our circuitous wake Would cause. less braver hearts to quiver and quake. One talse move, a fact we would deplore Would send us hurtling down to the dark canyon floor. It happened at dusk, just about thre e miles out Ot Cody , Wyoming, when we had our bout-A rear tire blew out, and the bike with its load Lurched, swayed and wobbled all over the road. I cl ung to my husband with all of my might, While it veered to the left and then to the right. I scarcely dared breatbe, tor to make a wrong move WO?/d have zaeant " curtains" - -this, I did not approve. While traftlc,. undannted, kept its dizzy pace, And my handIcapped husband did his darndest to brace The uncontrolled vehicle without using his brakes, That he knew would have been the most fatal mistake For it would have caused the cycle to flop , ' Our only recourse-i-to ride it to a stop. I froze with terror, in my mind visions flowed Of us and the bike sprawled allover the road ; And I prayed while my man with the strength of one arm !ept the bike with its double load sately from harm. That :",as a close shave, • his reliet plain to see, And WIth trembling voice, I , his wife did agree. Now we had a blowout right here in a place Where cycles are rare , and parts hard to replace. We stood by the side ot the road in the rain And tried flagging down cars, but the etfort' was vain. It was fast /f.etting dark and our prospects were dim, When a cyclis; drove up--were we glad to see him! There's an unwritten law in bike fraternity To help one another, wberever we be And miles trom our goal, stranded oui on the road Came a cyclist, adhering to the cycle code. We got a replacement after hours ot delay, And cold, wet and exhausted, at last hit the hay. NeJa. day we hit Utah, the SlUl C3lBe and -.t, It raiDed ott and on to our Fat discoatenL With slippery roads, and tbuse UDder repair Would cause less gallant bearts than oars to despair. Tbere was ODe stretch at road, at a mle, _,.be two, That was slimy with clay, and tull at ruts too We got in a rut .of that slippery stllIt, ' • And handling a bike in it sure was toagh. Tbe tirst thing we bew, it was dow. OD its side And we in a llJ3lUJer undignified ' Were both UDdernealb it, all in a buddle For riders and bike had golle down in a 'paddle. We lay there awhile in that grey Utah day, Sodden, bedraggled, and filled with di_ay; And not Olle person stopped to otter us aid, But they langhed wben they saw the sig/lt that It'e -OOe. We rig/lted the bike witbuut too mucb tuss And surveyed the damage to it and to us. ' We were covered with mud, wet, dirty and cold But uuburt~wbile the bike was a siBbtto bebold. Gone its nice shiny surtace, the day that clll1lg to it Disguised its appearance. My huslJand did view it With disdain-!lis pride, his beautitul dre3lll Had tallen trom grace, had sunk low in esteelll. My huslJand was bitter, and turning to me, He said -What a mess!· I, his wite, did agree. We continued our journey, and rode au in the uig/lL Tbe downpour was steady-no reliet was in sig/lL For eighty-nine miles the lonely road stretched, Loose-graveled, oil soaked, slippery, wretched. And as 1 crouched behind, mute, mild and meek With h«:art in my mouth, and tongne in my cheek, The ram pelting on us, 1 made no collllllent ' Traversing the miles witbuut incident, Yet inwardly marveled in contemplatire mood, 1 thought that a man would have to be good, To drive in conditions that wonld others disturb Yet Ibis man with one good arm indeed was.rb! • My husband's a good driver," 1 thought inwardly Admiring him secretly, 1 did agree. ' Next came Arizona. now that arid state We were sure would be dry, and the rain would abate, Not so, we found out, in the desert's beart Callie a nashflood that almost wrencbed us apart. We stopped, tor the road had tnrued into a lake, And the clouds poured their fury with no sigu at break. On opposite sides at the bike, but UDseen By each other, we stood--the rain was between. Great sheets that concealed each ot us trom view, We had heard of flash Iloods, now we knew Ibis IV3S true :Was th~s th~n ~ end of our journey'?· 1 tbuught, • To be lD this whIrlpool unavoidably caught?· lIy poor heart turned over. 1 feIt so alone. When the clouds rifted suddenly, and the sun shone. The rain stopped as quickly as it had come, We mounted our charger, and beaded for bome. Otf and on the rain plagued us, but we lett it behind And rode it out mostly--by DOW we didn't mind ' The torces of chance or the elements--soon To our ups and our downs we hecame immune. Whatever disaster was to betall us, we vowed Could touch us but lightly--we would not be cowed. "lt shouldn't be long now,· my husband, said he, And 1 nodded hopetully, as I did agree. The next day we rode beneath the hot desert sun In one hundred degree temperature we made the home run. And no torce of nature, no quirk at tate Could hinder us now, we were in our home state. The miles simply flew as our goal was in sig/lt, We arrived in our town that very same night. As travel-sore, weary, we dismounted at last, And looked at the mileage at the states we had passed, It was four thousand miles our odometer showed, From beginning to end, since we hit the road. We had made it in seven days, my husband and I , And 1 looked at him and the gleam in his eye As he looked at his motor, it had been washed clean , None the worse tor wear either, it still had its sheen_ He patted it proudly as one is wont to do To an old faithtul horse who was loyal and true. And 1 wondered mildly, if credit were dne Was it to the cycle, my husband, or who? ' But he, absorbed by his motor instead Had no thought but tor it as he scarce tl1rDed his bead :We made it in damn good time, grandma," said be. ' Yes grandpa, we did,· I, his wile did agree. • , • , .. • Anno ..d Bill Sine-, "'Ib 0«0 53, ot slorI 011110 trip slle so .....blc:allJ describes In tl>o occomp...ytn. po.... • • • •

• Cover