Dear Cyclists

Welcome! Having spent my childhood in Tiffin on one bike after another, starting with an awesomely fun banana seated Huffy roadster with cool chopper handlebars like the big boys had in Easy Rider, and eventually graduating to a more stately Schwinn Voyageur, I now live and ride in England with a stable of ’em. I also keep a bike in my sister’s garage for visits home, because it’s my favorite way to get around town.

When I learned that you’d be swelling the population of Tiffin for a day before moving on to Upper Sandusky, it behooved me to write this guide especially for you.

First of all, please observe traffic laws. This means no speeding down Riverside Drive, which I know is very easy to do, having been awarded a ticket there myself. Admittedly this was in a car, shortly after getting my license (who knew they don’t give newbies a grace period), but a fit cyclist still can break the speed limit, particularly if he or she is being chased by the headless ghost of Riverside Drive, which is like the headless horseman, only he’s riding a bike. A tandem, actually, with the ghost of Lance Armstrong’s conscience as stoker.

Did the GOBA organizers not tell you about the ghost? Well, that’s why I’m here. Fun fact: he still wears his helmet. It sits right on his shoulders, silly.

Make sure to stop at red lights, even when nobody is coming the other way and the empty road is practically taunting you. The police will nab you otherwise, and you’ll end up on a chain gang like Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke, who was before my time and probably some of yours, too, but that’s why we have Google. Fortunately, chain gangs in Tiffin are more humane than the rough deal he got, but still, picking up litter along route 53 or weeding the mayor’s garden isn’t how you want to spend your cycling tour, is it?

I’m sure you’ll find yourselves downtown at some point and see William Harvey Gibson frozen in the act of orating, with bronze groupie. You are politely requested to refrain from placing your helmet on his dignified head for a picture to post on Facebook. Yes, it’s tempting, even if you can manage to scale him, but it’s wrong. Psssst: There are some very large squirrels a few blocks down near the historic Ritz Theatre who probably won’t mind, and are considerably closer to the ground.

While you’re photographing the now very safe squirrels, please observe a moment of silence for nearby Bunky’s Bike Service, which is closing. Bunky once saved my life. Although I’m making that up, it has the ring of truth.
It’s mandatory to pedal up the hill at the north entrance of Hedges-Boyer Park, where many of you will be camping. Do this in your highest gear to show how tough you are. You’re not allowed to race down it till you’ve climbed up it first. And keep your helmet off the statue of Josiah Hedges, too, though it is permitted to Photoshop it onto him once you get home to illustrate your ride report.

It’s a shame it’s too late to petition the drive-in (Field of Dreams — great name!) for a nostalgic screening of Breaking Away, the cycling-and-coming-of-age movie, but maybe it’s for the best, as there’s always a rash of pumps jammed into spokes wherever it’s shown.

Which leads me to my final point: To quote Sgt. Esterhaus from Hill Street Blues: “Let’s be careful out there.” I’m talking to anybody not on a bike, including dogs, unless you have a particularly talented dog, in which case why haven’t I seen it on YouTube? Dogs and cyclists will never find a lasting peace, so it’s advised to keep a close leash on them. The dogs, I mean.

Cyclists can get very rowdy when they’re in large groups, trying to make two-wheeled converts, riding no-handed and ringing their bells for the pure joy of it. If you don’t want to be infected by the cycling bug, steer clear.

You might also want to stock up your larder, as hungry lycra locusts can completely pick a town clean. Pop-Tarts are usually the first to go. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

June 2017

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