Going to America

[mickle]

I lived in America once you know.

My then GF was from Joisy, we'd grown tired of living in London and toyed with the idea of going to live in the US but never got our sh!t together. And then Major's Tory government got back in and that was all the impetus we needed.

We took our bikes with us, my Trek 930 mountain bike with XC Pro, on slicks and her ex Paddington CC track bike which I'd restored and repainted for her. We lived in a small apartment in Manhattan and rode everywhere. I tried to find a job - in a bike shop, it being all I knew how to do - but they weren't hiring. The city was coming down hard on 'aliens'. So I spent my days preparing dinner for us and riding around New York. One day I arrived at the world Trade Centre to find Hans Rey doing a Trials Show which involved riding around on a yellow NY taxi. We were there for three months and my half-arsed job hunting was cut short about eight weeks in.

I used to ride with her a lot - she wasn't super confident and it got me out of the house. I'd ride out with her, ride home and go to 'collect' her later when she went her acting class once a week. New York traffic is wonderfully predictable. Roads are all one way - alternately North/South - up/down - and traffic mainly travels at a uniform speed and all the lights are all co-ordinated. Everthing is very predictable.

So there I was, about half a mile from home (just north of the UN building), I'd dropped her off and was heading home. I was in traffic, sprinting to catch the end of a green light when a car pulled out from the kerb and completely closed my gap. With a car beside me I had no-where to go and in that split second I instinctively slammed on my brakes. The inevitable result was that I was catapulted into the air and did a superman into the junction. Witnesses said I landed flat on my face. I am a big bloke and I was fit then. So I was going at some speed. From about two car lengths back I landed on the other side of the junction.

The only damage to my bike was the seat rails had bent, it was taken away to some Police lock-up in Queens which took me weeks to find. It had gone A over T and bounced off the saddle. No biggy. I on the other hand did not fare so well. I didn't bounce. I had graze damage to my forehead, nose, inside my bottom lip, chin, colar bone, ribs - my sunglasses had been clipped to the neck of my T-shirt so I had the imprint of them on my chest - my hips, knees and the toes of my shoes. And my knuckles. A pancake flat landing from 30 mph.

When I came to - I couldn't turn my head for the neck brace, there was a paramedic just outside my field of vision talking to me: What is your name? I dunno I said. What's your phone number. What's your address. I dunno, I dunno. And i'm thinkin: FFS, if I can't remember my own name I'm hardly going to remember where I fricking live am I? And he said: 'Well, you're English - that narrows it down'

I had a headache for two weeks, and I used to be able to remember telephone numbers and peoples names. Not since that day.


Helmet? Well it was only a short journey so I had it looped around my handlebars...

Next instalment: - driving to LA.

 

[S_t_e_v_e]

I have trouble with peoples names - and I haven;t had a bump on the head.... (well, not that I remember anyways)

Interesting story - but what happened to the driver?

 

[mickle]

The driver wasn't there when I came to. And since I probably hit the brakes before I hit the car......

 

[biglad]

Good read mate, glad you were ok in the end too!

 

[mickle]

It took just two months for the appeal of New York to wear off.

We bought a Ford Econoline van - technically a minibus with no seats, with tinted windows - and over the course of one weekend I decked it out with a bed platform to stash our belongs under. I got my (first) driver's license and the very next day we headed off to LA. We had our bikes of course, the intention was to stop regularly to explore places on the way. In the event we rode our bikes much less than we'd hoped because gf had been offered a job in eight days time. Trip of a lifetime and now we had a deadline to meet.

The first half of the 'northern crossing' is 1500 miles of plains so we just drove and drove... 16 hours a day.... mostly in straight lines, sleeping in the van at truck-stops. It wasn't until we approached the Continental Divide that things started getting interesting.

There were a couple of things I really wanted to do: visit the Grand Canyon and visit the Mountain Bike Hall of Fame in Crested Butte, Colorado. The Grand Canyon was quite the most amzing thing I've ever witnessed. But when we got to Crested Butte The Mountain Bike Hall of Fame it was closed for Labour Day. Basterds. The next day we headed off on our mountain bikes on the awesome trails around CB. Uphill was a struggle at such high altitude but the downhill included one of the highlights of the trip - if not my whole life. Approaching a smooth and wide concrete lined ford near the end of our ride I decided not to slow down - the splash in the crystal clear water coming off the mountain would cool me down and get some of the Colorado dust off my sweaty legs. What I didn't expect was to find myself chasing a dirty great big fish - there it was, in the water just ahead of the bow-wave created by my front wheel - sprinting for it's life! I bet it hadn't expected to be chased by a Specialised Ground Control when it woke up that morning!

The other highlight was jumping out of the van with my bike at the very vertex of the Continental Divide, pumped the tyres up, folded myself into an aero tuck and hurtled down the other side... Awesome. I was frozen when I got off at the bottom but had the biggest grin ever!

Next instalment: Hollywood

 

[Zoof]

Nasty accident mate; good luck in the future.

I've been so near to disaster my self, one or twice.

So, your story made me twitch.


Zoof

 

[VamP]

Good stories, good writing.

I really enjoyed reading that.

 

[avsd]

+1

Good stories, good writing.

I really enjoyed reading that.

 

[mickle]

So, within a very few days of hard driving we ended up in LA, within sight of the Hollywood sign and a couple of blocks N of Melrose. I got a series of jobs in a series of bike shops - which was precarious because my work permit took an age to be processed. But life was good. Miles and miles of world class trails of fire roads and single-track were within 30mins of our front door.

Cycle commuting was very different to my experience of ten years of London riding (New Yoik and London are much the same when it comes to sharing the roads with drivers). LA drivers were totally non-aggressive, polite, considerate and patient - if they saw you. And that was the problem, they totally didn't expect to see cyclists on the roads. Scary. Different, but scary.

Cycling is, for many Amurkans a leisure pursuit - not a mode of transport. They strap their bikes on the back of their motor veehicles and drive to the trailhead or to quiet parkland road. Or to the beach. Ride around for a bit then drive home. That's not to suggest for one moment that they were all wussy leisure riders - most of the industry guys I rode out with rode hard and long, very gnarly rides. I preferred to ride with my English friends, there was less competition. Riding for the pleasure of it rather than kicking someone else's ass.

I got my second driving license - you have to change it within three months if you move between States. It was so easy - but then Stevie Wonder has a California drivers license...

Big Bear Mountain was only two hours away and the people who managed the ski resort had only recently realised the potential of opening up the mountain to mountain bikers during the off season. We'd drive up after work Friday, camp in the van and then spend the next two days padaling down the mountain. $16 for an all day lift pass got us as many rides as we could stand, and there were plenty of routes down to choose from. Fire roads, single track, the World Cup DH course and even one which included the enormous snow boarder's half pipe - zigzagged with primo single track when there was no snow on the ground.

This was in the days before long travel suspension. We rode the mountain on hardtails (with Flexstems if we were lucky) and cantilever brakes. I made the mistake of touching my rim to see how hot it was after my first descent and left my fingerprints behind. Brake blocks suffered badly. After a couple of runs our arms were pumped up from the vibration and from holding on to the brake levers. It was a grin factory. Awesome.

As sundown approached we'd retire to the campsite for beers and a barbie and back on the mountain first thing in the morning. It felt very strange to finish two full days of riding without tired legs, having done hardly any pedaling!