A True Story

by Tom Baker

September, 1998

Hilda Fraley finally cornered me about leading a ride and I reluctantly accepted. On August 4th, I was going to direct a hard ride of 66 miles, from the park to Lafayette, ascend both Pigeon and Lookout Mountain, descend Nickajack Road, and return via Chickamauga. On paper, an inoccuous adventure. That was before I drew Daisy's ire.

As the ride leader, I owe it to the twenty-some-odd riders who showed up for this trip, to tell the TRUTH about what happened that ill-fated day. This is the real story about what took place, and any other version is superceded by this article. Although you, the reader, may think events that took place were implausible, (if not down right impossible); nevertheless, this is the way it happened:

The ride was billed as Marco Pantani's mini Tour de Lookout, with the Pigeon Mountain climb Category 1, and the ascent of Lookout Mountain, a three-mile Category 3 climb. Each rider was given a directional map, along wiht the usual waivers: not to sue in case of flat tires, being hit by deer, getting winded on the climbs, and not going faster than 45 mph down Nick-a-Jack. With more room on the sheet, the ride director's attempt at humor eventually backfired. The last waiver statement stated that the rider would not sue if "dropped by Daisy." Little did I know that this would cause a fire in our newsletter editor....

The ride was scheduled for 8am, but bike-time meant 8:15. Local legend Byron Mulligon showed up and asked if he could ride with us. I gave him the thumb-up sign, and he starteed getting his bike ready. Bike club resident mad dog, Bill Chambers, was also with Byron, and they became antsy and began before the peleton left.

The first four miles were done at about 19mph, as everyone was fresh and showing off. Daisy agreed to stop at Napiers' Store with my wife Carol, who had missed breakfast ans needed to replenish her glycogen supplies. After a 5-minute stay, in which Carol nontheless wolfed down a couple of bagels and 3 cups of coffee, Daisy offered the prophetic suggestion:

"I know a shortcut. We can get to Peavine Church before that bunch of wimps can. We'll drop 'em all!"

They did just that! Most of you who have seen Daisy's Cannondale with a rear rack and her 9 pound CamelBack (which she carries for new hubby Hugh, tools and all!) think she is only an enthusiastic tourer. Hell, no. This bike is made of space-age aluminum, and weighs only 19.5 lbs, fully loaded! So, this time Daisy has her game face on, and my bride of less than a year is also ready to "kick some butt from those condescending imposters."

Daisy takes the first pull at nearly 26-mph, while Carol hangs on for dear life. A half-mile from Napier's Store, they turn right, a diversion from the course route. while Carol took the lead on the downhill, Daisy explained that she was tired of having people think she was a slow rider. "I'm slow because I choose to be. Today I'm going to show them they'll have to get someone else to kick around." Carol's pull was short; Daisy brought them within a quarter-mile of the church, where they switched off again. soon, they entered the church's parking lot, and were drinking Gator Ade and coiffing their hair as an astonished Byron and Bill swept into the lot, both sweating profusely.

"Don't hand me any crap, Byron. I can ride when I want to. How far back is Tom and the peleton?", Daisy asked.

"We passed them five minutes ago, so they should be getting here in about three more minutes. We were smoking to get here, after a flat-tire the first mile. Why don't you keep going, and see what they're really made of?" Byron suggested.

Daisy thought for about five seconds, then said "Right. Carol--are you with me?" My bride, a killer on the tennis court, had until this moment been a rather meek biker, allowing her husband (and other males) to dominate her by always riding behind them.

"Why not?" Carol said as she clipped in and quickly moved the chain to 53-16, in an effort to stay with Daisy, (who had not even waited on Carol's reply to her query). Before long, they were on Straight Gut Road, the area's fastest seven-mile stretch, where real biker's approach 28 mph for an average. Well, these ladies didn't do that, but they were close! Bulldogs and other mutts were no problem, as they simply could not get near enough to threaten. As the ladies breezed towards Lafayette, Daisy checked her mirror for the scouts for the chase group. There were none!

"Let's wait a while here for them. They should have learned their lesson by now, and heck, it's about 11:00. Tom wanted us to eat lunch at the Steak House, anyway" said Daisy, as she dismounted her trusty steed.

About five minutes later, Byron and Bill arrived, again sweating profusely. "Damned flat tire again," Byron lamely professed, though Bill's eyes never met Daisy's. Macho men that they were, they stopped only long enough to get a drink from Daisy and Carol, claiming they forgot to fill their bottles completely. Sure....

Ten more minutes and the main splinter group of the peleton, led by Steve Strain (who had obviously strained to reach that point) and Stan McCright, (who brought his cabin cruiser for a voyage after the ride--or perhaps relegated to the dog-house??) Insiders tell me that our boys, fresh from their ride in the Rockies, could only gasp and stutter when Daisy asked them where they had been for so long. (She doesn't pull any punches!) Unable to come up with a good-enough excuse, this group said adios, and vamoosed.

About ten more minutes passed before this humble writer, (the ride leader) and Daisy's new hubby, Hugh Worthy, arrived on the scene. In reality, we had "allowed" ourselves to be dropped from the two previous groups, always thinking Daisy and Carol would be coming up from the rear.

It was here that Daisy's emotions finally caught up with her. Tears streaming down her face, she promised Hugh she would never drop him again, while looking at me with contempt (for being the author of the notice in the directional map about "...being dropped by Daisy.")

I felt pretty bad to have caused all the strife on this morning. We got to Lafayette just in time for lunch, and took it easy the rest of the way. we didn't attempt to bridge the gap on our compatriots--(they needed to save face). I can attest that both Daisy and Carol had a twinlke in their eyes the rest of the day, and they even feigned exhaustion going up Lookout, riding a respectable distance from Hugh and me. Alas, we knew we'd been had. Fortunately, we had a lot of company--even Byron! There's a lot to be said about letting a sleeping dog lie!