Patsys Pantry (as President Eric dubbed it) was open for business this year, and the customers, they came arunnin. But first, there was the small matter of a ride to work up an appetite.
Jim and I arrived around 8:20 a.m. Gary Lesniewski and Dave Starrett were already there. Soon, we were joined by Butch Willingham and Roland, Dave and Jean Williams, Roger and Frances Singleton, Rick Hensley, Eric and Galen Williams, Tyler Simpson, Bob Hebb, Jim Exum, and others. (Guess news of Patsys home cooking draws a big crowd. That, and the recent pizza party/package stuffing bonanza for B&B, proves that cycling and eating are a powerful combination. If that is the case, then, how can Dave Starrett keep such buff legs??)
Dave and the other hosses lined up at the start, ready for a friendly race through the 64.4 mile course. We lesser mortals fell in behind them. It was great to come out of the first turn with so many TBC jerseys in evidence, but that togetherness didnt last long. Jim left to join the pack and hang with them for a while, while Butch, Roland, and I joined a small group of about seven that included a rider from the Texarkana club. (I was at the back of the pack, so I could only see so much.) We managed to stay together until the turn onto Highway 11, then Butch, Roland, and I fell behind, with another lone cyclist in a yellow jersey (could it be LANCE?) about 300 yards ahead, and the others soon out of sight.
Roland and I pedaled hard towards Pittsburg, me drafting and Roland pulling. Then I thought it was proper that I should take my turn pulling, so I passed Roland on a bridge. When I looked back, though, Roland wasnt following. So I went ahead and chased that Mystery Rider in the Yellow Jersey. No matter how hard I worked, though, I couldnt catch him, and soon I was passed by another Mystery Guy on a blue Lemond bike.
We rolled into Pittsburg after what seemed like 20 miles (I refrained from looking cause I didnt want to be dissuaded from my delusion), and there was the first real rest stop. (The other for the 12 milers was back at the Hwy. 11 turn.) I saw the Mystery Riders stop, and since I felt good, I kept going.
At last! A lead and a tailwind. I zoomed along at 22 mph, with the view all to myself. Looking back, however, I saw the Mystery Yellow Jersey closing fast. He drafted on me for a ways, then passed. It was Rick Hensley! Off he went again, taking his station 200 yards ahead, and I followed him through the next turn and onto the first rough roads of the ride, and the first small hills.
We passed the ranches and chicken farms, until, over one hill and turn, we viewed heaven: the 22 mile rest stop on 4715. And who else should we spy there but the rest of the TBC crew: Super Dave Williams, Galen, Gary, and about four others. We guzzled Gatorade, refilled our water, and had fruit or cookies to eat. The crew at the rest stop were extremely nice, holding our bikes and even refilling my Camel Back for me. It was hard to leave such hospitality, but the pause that refreshes gave us some new life to hit the road again.
Super Dave led the way, and I followed him and his riding partner, hanging with them for a few miles. The rest of the crew were a few hundred yards back, and so I thought I was doing pretty welluntil we made a turn and Dave and friend left me in the proverbial dust, and the peloton of the other TBC members whooshed by me, all down on their aero bars and off to catch Dave. Oh, well. Back to the end of the line for me.
Luckily, I kept them in my sights, so I didnt fall too far behind, but I credit the rough roads for that more than any great persistence on my part. Then, there was a flagger at a tricky fork in the road, and the pack went with the 64 mile route, leaving me all alone on the 45 mile road. However, it was a lovely road with green trees and wildflowers, and no traffic at all. I passed one or two 12 milers (I guessed), some walking, and made some good time. Gee, this is going great! I thought.
I turned on to 3150, and before long came upon yet another rest stopand the Gang! Seems our routes had met up once again. Gary Lesniewski had a photo to commemorate the occasion, and we all signed our names to the big board they had there. Gary inquired of our friendly hosts if this was Omaha. No, they said, it was only Cookville. (I hadnt looked at my map since before the race started, so I hadnt a clue what they were talking about.) Meanwhile, Mother Goose (Galen) performed angelic service by massaging a nasty cramp out of my shoulder. (I guess ballet dancers know all the tricks!) Then, back on the bikesI, to the right, and they to the leftbut not before a bit of confusion. I kept hearing Gary call, Galen! Galen! Its this way. It then occurred to me that he might be yelling at me, so I looked back over my shoulder and managed to identify myself, and then off we went. (How flattering to be mistaken for Galen! I guess Gary must have been suffering from dehydration??)
This rest stop was at around 30 miles, and the remainder of the route (for me) was into the wind, so this is where the suffering beganand I was all alone. Up some hills, chased by dogs, and wondering if I was irretrievably lost, as the signs and arrows and flaggers seem to have disappeared. Adding to the confusion were the appearance of red and blue arrows pointing back the way Id come, and other riders coming from the opposite direction. At the intersection of 4240, I pulled up at a stop sign and dragged out the wet rag that was once my map to check. Pulling up behind me, James Hughes likewise questioned where we were, but we figured we were heading in the right direction and so pressed on. The land was looking familiar: same trailer houses, same dogs (thankfully, tired now), same chicken farms. (Bo rules!!)
At last, at last, we turned onto 1735 and the college came into view. I struggled to keep James in view while we turned up the drive and past the orange cones. Up ahead, I saw a TBC jersey standing in the road, camera in hand, and my first thoughts were distinctly uncharitable: Jims already done 64 miles, and hes had time to get his camera? Grrrrrrrrr!!! When I passed him by, I commented, You stink! as I went on to the truck where I could at last stop.
Jim soon ambled up, telling me, You did good. Ive only been here 25 minutes. It turns out hed dropped out of the pack after ten miles and continued on with the 45 mile route, as wed originally planned. That made me feel better. But even as we spoke, we saw some TBC jerseys turning into the drive and hustled back to take pics. Sure enough, it was Dave Starrett and the hosses, looking for all the world like theyd just done a 25 mile Sunday morning ride, when theyd just completed 64 miles in a little more than three hours. (As I said, we ordinary mortals are in a different category .)
Jim forced me to keep walking (the meanie!) and we went out back to find the free burgers. I really just wanted some salty potato chips, but the smell of charcoal-broiled burgers was too tempting, so we split a burger, figuring it might be a while before we got to Patsys, so we could handle it. Then when I stopped by on the way back to visit the facilities, Jim checked the table and found wed won door prizes: he, a jar of fragrant skin cream (I hope its fruity! he crooned), and I a picture frame. Feeling special, we returned to the parking lotonly to see that Dave had won a prize and so had Tyler Simpson. Thats coolwe were all special.
And now, for the REAL raison dêtre for the Mt. Pleasant Ride: PATSYS PANTRY!! We followed Daves directions and soon found the neat little house with the flag and flowers. Inside, we met Patsy and the small crew already gathered for the feast (and a LOT of dachshunds!). Before long, Patsy directed us in to begin the first shift. After Dave offered a blessing, we plunged in: ham, roast beef with barbecue sauce, potato salad, radishes, onions, black-eyed pea salad, hot water cornbread (with or without cracklins), pinto beans, turnip greens, fresh sweet corn, tea, and for dessert, pound cake, peaches, or chocolate cake. Wooo-woooo!!!! All you could hear was the gnashing of teeth. Patsy and Sue Starrett encouraged us to have more, and refilled our plates for us (!). Someone chimed in, Were gonna have to cycle back to Tyler just to ride this off!
The first shift made way for the secondRoland, Butch, Roger and Frances, Bob Hebb and Tyler Simpson, and eventually, Galen and Eric. Jim got out the camera (or rather, I fetched it for him from the truck as he was too full to move far or fast) and took some photos. That done, we felt reluctantly that we had to leave soon before we fell comatose from so much riding and so much good food. We thanked Patsy and Dave and Sue for their hospitality, and pulled out for homealready planning the trip for next year!!
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