There was a bike race in my town a few weeks ago. It was actually a serious race, too. Apparently, it’s one of 15 qualifier races for a UCI Masters Road World Champion race to be held in Italy this September. (Please don’t ask me any more about this. It was a chore to even figure out that much technical information about road racing.)
Buzz and I went out to take some pictures. Aside from us and the police officers who were directing traffic through the tricky intersection, there were just three other spectators: some women who worked in the old one-room schoolhouse that now served as a museum space for our town’s tiny Historical Society. The museum is on the corner, so they came outside for a few minutes to watch the race.
Several bikers went the wrong way and a few of them were nearly hit by cars whose drivers were too oblivious to notice both the riders and the police officers. When the police officers were told that the last of the riders had come through that intersection, they quickly left so they could go to the next tricky spot on the race route. That just left us civilians.
Unfortunately, there were still a few stragglers that had been forgotten. The word ‘clusterfuck’ is not quite strong enough to describe the next few minutes. Luckily, the five of us managed to see them through and they were able to continue on their way unscathed.
I’ll stick to standing on the sidelines with a camera, thankyouverymuch.