Olympic Dream (6 page)

Red was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I think your father has one great son.”

Doug flushed, embarrassed but pleased by the praise.

“Yeah, okay, but the problem is, see, I don’t know how to really ride well enough and how to get into a race or anything like
that. So, maybe you could, you know, help me out?”

“Son of a gun!” said Red with a strangely wicked smile. “Tell you what, this weekend there’s an open
house at my old cycling club. We can go over and take a look around. What do you say to that?”

“The Lakeridge Cycling Club you talked about before?” said Doug. “But isn’t that some kind of hotshot racing club?”

“It is one of the best, but I think you’ll find out that it’s also a great place to learn about cycling.”

“Okay, sounds good to me,” said Doug. “Saturday? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“It’s either that or clean my little apartment,” Red replied. “So?”

“Saturday it is,” said Doug enthusiastically.

And Saturday morning it was, when Doug followed Red in a leisurely ride across town to the club. He wondered what it would
look like.

It turned out to be a square red-brick building that had once been a garage.

As they pulled up in front of it, Doug could see a bunch of people standing around talking next to their bikes. They were
all decked out in sleek, skintight racing gear. Every one of them seemed to have a muscular, taut body without a spare ounce
of flesh. There was no one who looked remotely his age. Or his size.

His heart sank.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” said Red.

Doug was about to suggest that maybe his being there wasn’t such a good idea when a few other kids about his age came around
the corner of the building. And, he was happy to see, they were pretty much dressed just as he was, in shorts and T-shirts.
With a few exceptions, none of them had the special shoes and skintight shirts and shorts that the older people were wearing.

“This is our library,” said Red with a mocking tone as he pointed to a bookcase filled to bursting with a collection of books,
magazines, and pamphlets. “Cycling’s growing so fast, we get a ton of stuff sent to us in the mail. But the important news
is on the bulletin board over here.” He pointed to a big cork board next to the entrance to the meeting room. It was cov
ered with notices of cycling events, safety warnings, a few newspaper pictures of members flashing winning smiles.

Doug wandered over and took a look at some of the notices. He quickly scanned the board for anything that might appeal to
beginners. There were a few things he decided he’d look into later. Then, in the upper right corner, he saw the famous five-ring
symbol of the Olympics. He was still staring at it when Red called him into the meeting room.

“Jack Millman is the president of the club,” he explained. “He’s going to talk about how we operate and then open up the floor
to questions.”

As they took their seats, a lot of people came up and said a few words to Red. It was obvious that he was one of the most
popular members of the club.

Just before the talk began, he saw Billy Torrant come in and take a seat in the back row. Darn it, he thought, I wish I’d
told him I was coming.

Doug settled in for the talk, which was mostly about membership dues, forthcoming events, and what the club offered in training
—nothing that really impressed him that much. By the end of the talk, he’d pretty much decided that he’d be better off
getting into cycling on his own. This group was too slick for him.

Then came the question-and-answer session. The first question came from Billy.

“Yuh, I’m Billy Torrant,” he said, “And I’m sort of a newcomer in town as well as in cycling. It doesn’t sound to me like
there’s a lot here for those of us just starting out.”

Doug could hardly believe what he was hearing. Other than the part about being new in town, it was exactly what he’d been
thinking.

Jack Millman explained that the club had just put together a real basic, start-from-scratch, nuts-and-bolts program for new
racers. In fact, the leader of that program was in the audience and he wanted to introduce him.

“Will Red Roberts please stand up?” he said.

As Red got to his feet, Doug almost fell off his chair in surprise. Then Red’s “Son of a gun!” and wicked smile from the other
day popped right back into his mind. When Red sat back down, Doug grinned at him and nodded knowingly. Red grinned back.

After a few more questions, Jack Millman made a final announcement.

“I just want to let everyone know that the Lake-ridge Cycling Club is also going to be holding our own event in the near future.
That’s right, we’re working on putting together the Tour de Lakeridge. We’ll let you know when we have all the details worked
out.”

Doug applauded politely with everyone else, then joined Billy and a few other kids heading in Red’s direction.

“Okay,” said Red. We’ll start regular training this coming Monday, but first we have to get down to some basics. That means your bikes, to
begin with. Let’s go take a look and see what we have.”

Doug followed the group of about a dozen kids out to the front of the club, where their bikes were parked. He listened as
Red went over each bike with its owner, pointing out the good parts and then the problems. Red’s once-over of his bike took
no time. He just told everyone that it was a good, sturdy, well-constructed bike that would probably serve a long time before
its owner moved on to a fancier model.

Doug wasn’t all that sure that he would last long enough in cycling for such a move, but he didn’t say anything.

“Okay, come on back inside,” said Red. “We have
some more things to talk about before we go for a short test ride.”

When they were all settled in one section of the meeting room, Red made an announcement.

“We have to talk about clothing,” he stated.

That was greeted with audible groans from the group.

Doug smiled to himself: At least I’m not the only one in this pickle.

Red started from the bottom up.

“The bad news,” he informed the group, “is that you’re all going to have to wear proper cycling shoes. Sneakers just don’t
work. They don’t slip in and out of your toe clips easily and they’re too flexible. You waste a lot of energy in that flex.
Plus, believe it or not, they’re too heavy. Cycling shoes are designed for just what they do best. Hey, you wouldn’t play
basketball in combat boots, would you?”

That made the group laugh and lightened things up a little.

“Next, you all might think you look real cool in your shorts and tank tops, but mark my words, you’re not going to be all
that happy when you start cycling for any real distances.”

By the time he got through explaining the cons of the wrong clothes and the pros of the right kind, everyone in the group
was convinced that they should go along with Red’s recommendations.

“I don’t expect everyone to be suited up right the first week,” Red added. “But by week number two or three I think it would
be a good idea.”

Doug overheard two girls discussing buying outfits. “Well, at least they won’t be bulky like that ski stuff we bought last
winter!” one of them giggled.

Yeah, they’re skintight, thought Doug. Well, if that’s what it takes to get going. I guess I’ll have to do it.

“Now, let’s go hit the road for a little practice run,” said Red. “I’ll lead off and stay in front for the first half. When
we start heading back here, I’ll drop to the rear and pull up alongside you just to see how you’re doing. It’s not going to
be a very long trip, so don’t worry about being in shape for it. We’ll get into that on Monday, too.”

The group followed Red back outside and over to the bike rack. Doug put on his helmet and climbed on his bike. Billy, he saw,
was right next to him.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Billy said. “I was going
to call you and tell you I was coming to this thing, but I never got around to it.”

“Me, too,” said Doug.

“Ready?” Red called out from the front of the pack. “Let’s go!”

“Catch you later,” said Billy.

Doug nodded.

Off they went, following their leader. Red set a nice, easy pace. Neither Doug nor Billy had any problem keeping up with him.
A few girls eager to show off pulled up almost alongside him, but he waved them back. Otherwise the ride was uneventful. Even
on the way back when Red was observing them, they resisted the natural temptation to push a little harder. Everyone stayed
at pretty much the same pace.

“Not bad,” said Red back in the parking lot. “Let’s all get together Monday afternoon at three for an indoor training session.
From then on, we’ll be pretty much outside. We’ll have once a week, Saturday morning talks inside, but the real work is done
on the road.”

“So, how’d we do?” asked one of the girls, who Doug had discovered was named Jenny.

“Well, Jen, I’ll tell you that none of you is ready for
the Tour de France, but I see some potential,” said Red. “Well let it go at that.”

He went off to talk with a few club members.

“We’ll leave in a few minutes, okay?” he called back to Doug. “Catch your breath. If you want, there’s a machine inside that
has chilled bottled water. Do you need any change?”

“Nope, I’ve got lots,” said Doug.

When Red moved away, Doug looked around and saw that Billy was still there—and he was wiping off his forehead with his bandanna.

“Hey,” Doug called over. “I’m going to get something cold to drink inside. Can I get you one?”

“Sure, that’d be great, said Billy. “I’ve got a pretty long trip back home, and the stuff in my bottle here is probably pretty
warm by now.”

When they were sipping their drinks, Doug asked Billy, “So what brought you here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” said Billy with a little laugh.

“Red told me about it,” said Doug.

“Me, too,” said Billy. “I guess you guys are pretty good pals.”

Doug sipped his drink and told Billy how great it
was having Red staying at the carriage house. As they talked, he even confessed how worried he was about looking like a penguin
at his sister’s wedding when the time came.

“Hah!” Billy laughed. “And I probably look like a giraffe to some people! What a pair, huh?”

“Yeah, we’re just a couple of animals,” said Doug.

They clinked water bottles in a silent toast.

“Half day?”

Doug nodded.

Jimmy Bannister crushed the soda can with his right hand and tossed it into the rubbish bag. “Boy, some guys have it made,”
he said. But before Doug could start to explain, Jimmy went on, “Hey, just kidding. Red told me he’s got big plans for you
later on. He’s taking off a little early, too. You go on and show ‘em your stuff, kid.” He turned and headed back to the work
crew.

Red had suggested that Doug might want to take the afternoon off and work the next one instead. They’d agreed he’d work Mondays,
Wednesdays, and Fridays on the Rails to Trails project. It was getting to the point where even Doug could see the progress
they were making. The old railbed was slowly but surely being replaced by a recreation track.

He could even see a little progress of his own.

At first, he’d been the project’s “gofer”—he’d “go fer” whatever anyone else needed—but now he was called to lend a hand
on most of the strenuous jobs. The worst was a messy pile of old railroad ties. They’d obviously been there for years and
were partially rotted. It had to be cleaned up right away for scheduled work to continue.

Tommy Lopardo had called over to Doug to give them a hand. Doug hefted a tie under each arm and lugged them away to the dump
pile.

Andy Potts, thinking Doug was beyond hearing, had commented, “who would’ve thought that the fat kid who showed up here a couple
of weeks ago would ever be able to do that?”

At first, that had made Doug angry. But he quickly realized that Andy hadn’t meant to be cruel. The truth was, Doug
hadn’t
been able to do the heavy work—not at the beginning of the summer, anyway. But since he’d started working on his cycling
he felt better all around. Now he
could
give them a hand.

He put in his full effort that Monday morning and, following Red’s advice, left at lunchtime.

When he got home, no one was there, so he checked the refrigerator. Lots of good things inside. He could make himself a hero
sandwich with cheese and mayo and mustard, just the way he liked it. Then a big drink of milk, followed by a piece of leftover
blueberry pie.

Instead, he made salad with lots of lettuce and thick slices of tomato. He added some sliced cold chicken and a splash of
his mom’s own salad dressing. She always kept a jar of it in the refrigerator.

As he dug in, he realized that Red’s good eating habits just might be getting to him.

After cleaning up, he decided he deserved a little rest. It was off to the porch for a quick nap. Fifteen minutes later, a
voice told him it was time to go over to the cycling club.

“Come on, Doug, time to get rolling,” called Red from the driveway.

Doug leapt up. He felt rested and raring to go.

At the club, he discovered that the group had shrunk to nine. Two of the girls and one guy had dropped out. But he was pleased
to see that Billy
was there. They gave each other the thumbs-up sign.

Red gathered the group of six boys and three girls, with their bikes, into a circle.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to go over some basic pointers and I’m going to use Doug here to demonstrate. I got Doug started
out on his first twelve-speed racer a few weeks ago —”

Doug preened under Red’s attention.

“But, believe me, he’s as much a beginner as the rest of you.”

That took a little of the stuffing out of Doug’s chest.

Red then proceeded to work with each of them. He started with getting comfortable in the saddle.

“Put one foot on the pedal,” he said. “Slip it into the toe clip. The tip of your other foot should just barely touch the
ground. You’ll be able to push off and then slip that second foot in. If you put both of them in and you’re not leaning against
something, you’re going to keel over.”