Cycle News - Archive Issues - 1970's

L only the bike had a reverse. Then I'd back out of my starting position and hide in the trailer. When the race was over, I'd simply tell my husband that I had an acute attack of a rare disease that only lasts fifteen minutes. Or, if I was pregnant. Then he couldn't call me a coward. I looked down the line at the other riders - all men! It was inevitable that I wouldn't live to race the three required motos today. And twenty-Ilix years old Is just too soon to be be run over by thirty motorcycles. I felt my husband David'S arm on my shoulder. I would have welcomed him to forcibly jerk me off my bike and demand, "Don't do itl" But Instead, he gave me a pat on the behind and said, "Good-luck, Han. Now remember all the things I told you." "David", I tried to say without showing fear, "I know I've waited a long time for this moment. But I'm w1II1ng to wait a few more years if you ,think· I .need more practice on desolate trails." , I wouldn't let you out on that track if I didn't think you were ready. You've mastered rougher stuff than this course. It's only natural to be nervous" e.speclally before your ftrst race. Once you get off the line you'll forget all abouUt." "Do I look all right?" "Oh, wow. Yeh, you look just fine, except your face. Is as white as your nutn~r'~ plate." "My girdle is making 'me dizzy." "Why in hell are you wearing a girdle? This Isn't a lieauty contest!' "Your kidney-belt was too loose on me. I had to put on ,a girdle to pull in what the kidney-belt couldn't." "I'd better go. The flagger is giving the signal to rev uP the bikes." "I gotta go too - to, the out house." "Beverly, START YOUR BIKE!" That was the way he "coaxed" me When I was learning to ride. ,If I eame across an obstacle I was certain would be too hazardous, he would all but physically push me. Then, after I made it alive, he'd praise me and brag to his friends what a fearless rider he made of me. The flagger motioned us to put our left hands on our helmets. My right leg was vibrating ten times fa4ter than the RPMs of my engine; I barely managed to hold my bike uP. I tried to swallow but those creepy things that1lad been flattering in my stomach since early morning climbed uP and clogged my throat. I put my head down to utter an instant prayer to St. Christopher when I caught a glimpse Of my reflection on the chrome gas tank. How w1ll those guys know I'm a girl? I quickly pulled the strands of my hair down from under my helmet as a sign to the others I was a she, and to stay clear of me: But it wasn't much of a consolation knowing a few of the male riders had hair down around ,their necks. OoooooooOO••.IIe"s getting ready to drop the nag•••here I gal' Wowl What a start. I beat them all off the linel Stay in there blke•••why is that guy frantically waving the' black nag already? As I jammed on my brakes he ran over to me shaking his head and shouted angrily, "Get back In your starting position. Usually we disqua11fy a rider for jumping the linel" Gary couldn't say my face was wlilte now. I returned to my position. I wasn't shaking now. Humllation somehow helPS eliminate fear. I don't remember what haPpened on my second, start. I knew I was in motion so !followed the dust. When the air cleared, I found I was at the first turn - inert. My bike puttered and quit. You would think David would remember that I would forgef to turn my gas on. I fiipped the lever, kicked the starter til I turned blue, and was off again. There's the sandwash.)t doesn't look too bad. I'm used to sand. A bike whizzed past me. His rear tire spun sand in my face, blinding my view. I don't mind the suffociation; !.l's just the Idea of him speeding. I was traveling sideways. The only way I'll make It now is to hit the pavement or screw on training wheels. My bike gracefully laid over - on top of me. Two guys came dashing from behind the ropes. "Are you all right?" "It's nothing," I replied, "Just ripped open the blister on my hand and bit my tongue." For some reason, they thought that was funny. I didn't laugn. The comedian helPed me on my bike. I fired It uP and he gave me a little shove. "Get in there, Baby," he yelled, "show 'em how'to ride!" More laughter. I tried not to concern myself with my bruised posterior or the hundreds of crItical eyes watching me. With effort, I wholly concentrated on the terrain ahead. It took a lot of concentration- and time for me to make two laps. I was panting as I approached the mudhole again. This time I'm going through it - not in it. I turned the throttle all the you foul a plug? You couldn't be out of so well in the race, despite the few falls gas, I justf111ed..." I took. I killed the engine and looked for "I'm tired. I need a nap." approval from David. "Huh? You hair-brain! You can't quit "You didn'l shIft right going into the in the middle of a race because you get a turns," commented a helpful teenage boy. little ,tired. Get back out there. You'll The first place winner stopped over by me to saw a few words. "You go pretty , catch your second wind." "Forget It, David. I'm sorry. I know fast - for a girl. I only lapped you three when to quit." I headed for the trailer. I times." heard David mumbling behind me. " ... "Twenty-ninth out of thirty riders and you work all week getting their hike ain't had," said another observer, "conready so nothing goes wrong...damn 'sidering you were competing with Exwomen!' perts. It's too bad you had to run over When I collapsed on our cot I couldn't the thirtieth rider." Two hands gripped my waist. "Just stop the roaring echoes of motorcycle Cltange of~ce , fiction by diane reichenbach engines in my ear drum. When I'd just begin to doze off, and the engines seemed' to seize, I'd jerk to miss the bump ahead. I'd change positions, only to jam on my brakes to avoid the back tire of the rider ahead. I tried lying with my eyes open, but I 6nly saw an endless trall whizzing under my tires, and I began to experience the nausea that always plagued me in ears, boats, and tilt-a. whirls. I got uP and went to the pits. The excitement was mounting as the competition grew tighter in each class. Riders were working on their machines, discussing the course, and arguing about which make of bike was suPerior. Their expressions were mixed with restless-' " ness, pleasure, and frustration. I wondered if it was realIy worth it. "I sure have to give you a lot of credit," I beard somebody say. I turned and saw one of the clean girls addressing me. "I envy you. I wlsh I had enougb guts to race. I feel like I'm really missing something." When the swelling in my bead went down 1 looked for David. I found him sitting on my bike with a can of beer in one hand and plyers in the other, fidglting with the clutcb. "Get off my bike, please," I said. HI need it." , 'Why?" way down. Fishta1l1ng most of the way, my bike th,en went uP in a fantastic wheelie - ,without me.- The spectators at the mudhole (who congregate ttiere for sadistic reasons) cheered. I didn't mind this spill. At least It was mQre spectacular than the first. I slushed around in the mUd, try:ing to recover my bike. When I had it uPright, I tried to kick It over. My boot was coated so thickly with -mud it kept sUpping off the lever. Some nice flagger risked his clean clothes and did It for me. I received a slap on the shoulder from an anonymous well-wlsher {that almost knOcked me back off my bike) and I continued in the race. I hit the hoopties and rose one foot off the seat. Then I plopped down and fumbled to place my rigbt foot on the bent peg acquired when I had dropped my bike half way uP the last h111. I balaziced my toes delic;ately on the brake while my heel dangled for. suPport. There's a bike down aheadl I ~werved to miss it when I saw blood covering the rider's face. Swiftly, I pulled to the side of the track, then lept off my bike relieVed to be out of· the race. "Don't panic," I shouted'. "Lay down. I'll get the ambulancel" "Get back in the race, you idiot. It's just a bloody nose." He !Umped on his bike and literally left me in the dust. I glanced behind me and saw the rider that had been in the lead coming rapidly towards me. I hopped 01) my bike with a sudden excitement that I still had a chance of coming in second. The checkered:flag IS uPl Oh, you B-E-A.-U-T-l--F_U-L checkered flag! I was a Uttle pUZZled at all the bikes already in the pits since I was sure I did look at your bike," David mused. "Where did you bury it?" ' "Where have you been??' I yelled at him. "Why weren't you at the mudhole?" "I staked out at the end of the big hill since I know how you sometimes close your eyes coming down bills. But you took it courageously each time, once you got uP it. Now that you've been initiated on the course you sbould have no problem in your second moto.'~ "I know. Beacuse I'm not going on that track again." ' "What? You mean you're gutless enough to cop-out on the first try? How do you expect to get experience? I3e a "I waDna race my lJiSt moto." He choked on the beer. "I thought you didn't want to race anymore." "As a woman cyclist, I have the right to change my mind." The line- uP for my third moto had gaps from missing bikes. Either their bikes bad broken or they knew I was coming back. The nag dropped, my butterflies came out of hibernation, and I scarcely beard the jumbled words David shouted after me. "Watch...slickareas...watered· track!" ' Bikes were dropping all around me. I slooshed from side to side, but I was still edging forward. Stay on the bike. Stay on! It was a weird and glorious feeling to be passing other bikes. Watch the drop-off... stand ••.shIft...stay on. I rode slow and steady. Don't be heroic. Go around the mudhole. By now the h111 was torn uP. Follow the groove - more juicel Don't hold the clutch in going down...stay onl I was really traveling on the straightaway. Wait 'til I tell David I got past second gear. Cool 1.t on the turn... man••) mean...." staaaeaaaay onI "Don't rub it inl I know what I look like. It makes me sick to see all the girls mingling around the race track with clean hair napping in the breeze, and freSh make-uP, and clean clothes. Look at me.' Hair hanging in my face with mud clinging to the ends. I can feel dirt seeping from the corners of my eyes. My teeth must look like a freshly-dug fossil. I'm afraid to blow my nose - it might cause an Internal avaIanche." . David didn't say a word. He started walking my bike to the traller. His face dropped Uke the time I rode his brandnew bike and returned It to him with fragments of the transmission In my hand. "O,K.. David, O.K Get me a peg and I'll try It again." The muScles in his face returned to their normal position. "'That's mygirll" During 'my second moto I thought David was going to have ·heart fallure when I pulled in the pits after one lap. He grabbed my handlebars. "What's the matter? Did I was still saying that to myself when I rode to the finish. I knew I would be low on the results, but Dayld put his arms around me. "What an improvement," he said emphatically. "I'm proud ,of you. How do you feel?" "Fine, I think." "Then you still want 'to race?" "You bet. That Is, if it doesn't bother you I may never be able to wear short dresses because of brulses or have smooth hands.'; "It won't 'bOther me a bit. But don't get too good. The day you give me c,ompetition, I'll make you hang uP your bike for good." "Oh, no. There's nothing'in the world now that could keep lIle off a bike... , unless I unload. In fact, I think I'll enter the powder-puff claSS'llt Elsinore. I sent my entry in early.· But on the c;lay of the race, David found a comfortable spot for me behind the ropes so.l could watcb the other girls. Of all times to be pregnant. .'

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