7/29/2007

Ragbrai, the Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa, has come into full effect and passed without any typing by these fingers, as I became absorbed in getting some time with people other than Matt and Dad. I apologize, but it was completely necessary for my sanity, and the continued participation on this journey. Now, with a recharged battery, I write this as we attempt to drive back to where we left off, the 550 miles I drove, what the others drove on that day, the added length of having gone across Iowa, and also the added length of taking a trip down to St. Louis to catch a game in Busch Stadium. Fortunately, this should afford me enough time to recount the happenings of the past week, and maybe even a chance to edit it so that it isn’t bogged down with incredibly mundane stories about how I had such a tough time keeping the trailer under 65 mph(didn’t happen, you’ll just have to read the unedited version).

One of the highlights in my opinion from Ragbrai were the 80 miles I managed to bike in just one day at Ragbrai. Fighting through the fact I had yet to bike more than 42 miles in a day and a back that was forcing me off the bike every 5-8 miles as I hit the final 30, I positively crushed my longest day on a bike to date. It was a blast getting in with pace lines for miles at a time, seeing all the different bikes and bikers in motion, and getting to hit a few of the different vendors that lined the trip. I may have to come back some day to do the whole thing, when my age is more in line with that of the bulk of other riders.

Speaking of coming back a few years down the line, it may just take me that long to come up with a creative enough name to match what some of the others have come up with. We’re not just talking the Team Irish’s of the world, but teams like the Donner Party (tagline, we eat the slow ones), Team I wanna (with each member having a different thing they want, including to be done, a date with Angela, etc), a team that dressed up like cow’s down to their bikes paintjob, and Team wind (tagline, want some tail, will take some head). That was definitely another of the highlights of being part of Ragbrai, seeing how creative these teams could be. And the creativity of the teams was not only restricted to their team names, but also how nicely they could pimp their bus. We saw everything from hot showers built onto the backend, to altering the insides of the to accommodate feet of dry ice below benches, so as to cool the beer as it flowed from the keg out back to the tap. Some very creative things, which again will have to be worked on in order to bring a kickass team to represent Massachusetts, a sorely underrepresented state at this event.

A few different things have convinced me to try Ragbrai again, and maybe this time as a full time rider. The first thing was definitely the people of Iowa. They were absolutely great throughout, from the people letting us camp on their lawns to the people met in the beer gardens. That alone would be a great selling point for coming back at some other point, but more than that, the constant party atmosphere helps greatly. You can, if you want to it seems, drink your way from start to finish on a daily basis. People would be coming in at 1am, drunk from the towns coming in, or coming into the new town to drink some more. It was fantastic.

We had a great mix of people making up Team Cobra 39. We had everything from the serious bikers who tried to do 100 miles per day to the drinker looking to go out every night. One teammate had been a helicopter pilot in Vietnam. Another team member was a former graduate of the Naval Academy with a great mix of stories, from having had John McCain as his mentor while a student at Navy to racing go-karts over 100 mph across the country. These were just a couple of the people to make up the team, all of which could spin a great story.
There were few negatives from Ragbrai, but one sure one was the street names in Iowa. Seriously, the second day of the trip, in order to get to our host’s house, we turned right onto 4th, another right onto 4th, crossed a bridge only to take another right on 4th. I don’t mean to generalize about the current population of Iowa, as all those I’ve met to date were intelligent people, but whoever organized these street names couldn’t have been the brightest of the bunch, and if his was smart, he completely lacked any creativity. Granted, there is more of a feel for where you are in a city with the numbering coming into and out of town, but if you have to have two sets of 1sts, make them 1st street and 1st avenue and make the cross streets letters or something, because having north, south, east, west, northwest, and all that as streets and cross streets on different parts of town are completely confusing. Unless of course, everybody in Iowa has gone through the scouts enough to read the moss off of the trees running through town to know they must be on NW 6th street, in which case its only us slackers without eagle scout badges that are getting lost. But judging from my father’s struggles, it’s not like an Eagle Scout badge will be guiding you through the streets of small town Iowa. Maybe I’m bitter at continually getting lost at meal times as we tried to locate the different eating places, but I just can’t seem to get over this. The cow paths of Boston are somehow much easier to navigate for me, and it will be nice to once again be back driving them in a few months. Other than that, bumped up security from the police was also the other bummer, as it took away former fun traditions, including the nude beer slides and wet t-shirt contests we heard about from a host who will remain anonymous. For those of you who think they wouldn’t be fun, try being locked in a van with two other males for two months. If this trip has convinced me of one thing, it’s that one definite career option, priest, and is out the window barring some unforeseen circumstances.