More Family Cycling History

Cycling was also a source of some significant injuries for me, mostly broken bones; toes, the little finger bone in my right hand, and my collarbone. These injuries had, most of the time, the associated abrasions. When I broke my little finger I was pretty far afield (looks like about 22 to 25 miles one way). I had pedaled up to North Springfield, VT, to get a particular radio tube for a Tesla coil that I was building for a science fair project. I put the tube in my P-coat breast pocket. Not to far out of Springfield on my way back, after speeding over a railroad crossing at maybe twenty mph, the front wheel collapsed. I landed with my right forearm first, protecting the rest of me. (There’s a name for this, but I’ve forgotten. There’s also more to the story as far as the Good Samaritan rescue, maybe later.) Thankfully the radio tube survived the crash unbroken.

With the advent of my drivers license, the bicycle diminished, the automobile increased as well as the distances I traveled.

Fast forward to age twenty-eight, living in Durango, Colorado, where I enjoyed witnessing the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic in which some local residents rode and, some of whom I knew. The namesake for this race was the Durango-Silverton railroad, a steam excursion train that traverses an engineering miracle route, as the name suggests from Durango to Silverton. The bicyclists would line up on Camino del Rio (6,500 ft.), and at the departure of the train would then race the train to its destination in Silverton (9,300 ft.). The race would travel the fifty or so mile highway route, over Coal Bank (10,640 ft.) and Molas Pass (10,900 ft.), while the train followed its own impressive route up the Animas River valley. I was impressed enough to purchase a twelve speed Trek road bike. I joined some group rides as well as did some around the town riding.

This Trek is now hanging in our garage in Colorado Springs, and is the bicycle that interested Pi Guy in more than riding it up and down our street.