RAGBRAI

I don't think I have ever written about the RAGBRAI, but something happened online to remind me of it, so I am launched.

My former husband, back when we were living in Pontiac, IL, and our daughter was maybe around 7 or 8 years old, was into long-distance cycling.  He had somehow heard of a long-distance ride across Iowa, from west to east, called the "Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa".  RAGBRAI.  (The Register was/is the name of the sponsor, the Des Moines Register newspaper.)  The ride was a week long.  Every year, the route was different.  It took riders through little towns and larger cities all along the way.  Communities cashed in on having 10,000 extra guests for a day.  Churches put on feeds for reasonable prices.  Locals stood by with hoses to hydrate riders.  Resident citizens put up little roadside booths to sell mementoes of the ride, and towns all along the route would provide entertainment and "local color" for riders who had come from all over the US to participate.  The western border was always the Missouri River, and the eastern boundary was the Mississippi.  Daily destinations were communities between one and the other.

We did the RAGBRAI twice, as a family.  I will most likely mess these two trips up in chronology because they blend together in my memory, but here goes.

First of all, the RAGBRAI always takes place in July--usually late July--which means it is normally hot.  The ride is about 500 miles, give or take a few miles, from west to east.  The planners make it least one day a 100-mile trip, and usually make it on a day over flatter terrain.  This ride is NOT a race.  You don't get any points for being first or last.  Most just are grateful to get to the day's destination intact, with interesting points along the way.

Understand that I didn't ride the course, nor did my daughter or stepdaughter who came with us on the first trip.  We provided the sag.  We left camp long after the guys did, traveled to the day's destination, and set up camp, waiting for the guys to arrive.  When I think about it, I don't believe either trip could have successfully occurred were it not for all we women did!

First RAGBRAI:
The first year (I think 1985), we departed for western Iowa with a local friend, Ed Lipinski, from Pontiac, IL, where we lived.  He was going to ride the ride with Husband Joe.  Ed was a modern-day Hippie, a teacher in Joe's school.  In the car were:  Joe and Ed in the front seat, and me with the two girls (Megan and Stephanie) in the back.  The car was packed to the gills with camping gear.  On the way there, we stopped at the Amana Colonies, where Ed found a big wicker laundry basket to take back to his wife.  There was little room in the car for it.  Eventually, we had to strap it on top of the car along with the bicycles.  (This was at the beginning of the trip, so the basket would be with us for the entire time.)  There was at least one other Pontiac resident that would be doing the RAGBRAI--Dr. Deterding--who owned the historic Humiston House in Pontiac.

After many hours on the road from Pontiac, IL, to western Iowa (don't remember what town), we arrived at the campground that also happened to be the county fairgrounds with the fair going on.  After we set up camp, we went to the fair.  Joe decided that he would ride the ride that has swings on chains with the girls.  The faster the ride turned, the further out the swings went.  I thought it was a good daddy/daughter thing.  I was wrong.  The ride played havoc with Joe's middle ear balance, and for many hours thereafter, he was nauseated.  We ran into Doc Deterding.  Joe griped about his stomach.  Doc told him that the problem wasn't in his stomach but in his head--literally.  We ended up going to a local pharmacy to buy Dramamine.  (Heavy on the "drama" part.)  And the ride hadn't even started yet!!!!  Our fun for that day was basically over after that.

Every destination community, and many in between, had offerings.  Some had concerts.  Many had feasts, with air conditioning, to lure in hot, tired cyclists.  Every community had something to offer.  We took advantage of as many of those as we could.  And, as you might imagine, the campsites had portable toilets.  The name brand there was Kybo.  At the end of the day's ride when people were imbibing in alcohol, we would hear the drunken chant:  Kybo!  Kybo!  Kybo!

Somewhere west of Waterloo, which was close to a day's destination, we experienced a nasty thunderstorm in the wee hours of the morning before daylight.  The wind bent the aluminum ridge pole of our tent, bringing it down around our ears.  The rain basically soaked everything that wasn't in the car.  We ran to the vehicle until the storm stopped.  (No sleep happened!)  When the sun finally came up, the men took off on their trek, leaving me and the children to figure out what to do with the carnage.  (Thanks!)

The day's destination was a place just east of Waterloo.  I had a cousin that lived in Waterloo, so I stopped at a pay phone and started looking for her.  It happened!  Poor Betsy--out of nowhere, Cousin Peg arrived with pleas for help.  And help, she did.  I have no idea if she'd had other plans for the day.  She seemed a bit befuddled that I had just appeared with no warning, but she took me to a local hardware that fixed the bent tent ridge pole.  We put a lot of stuff in her dryer and ran it endlessly...then spread other not-so-wet stuff out on her lawn to dry.  At the far end of the afternoon, we departed her place in order to find a camping spot at the destination.   We beat the guys there by maybe 30 minutes.  What a day!

There were a lot of riding "teams"--people riding together in a pack  They wore matching shirts; their team name on the front with their nicknames on the back.  Two teams caught my eye.  The first was the "Me Off" team.  Their nicknames were Tick, Flip, Piss, Jack, etc.  You get the picture.  The other was the Dog team.  Their nicknames were Top, Big, Bull, etc.  I never stopped enjoying their humor!

Second RAGBRAI:     
I'm thinking this year was 1987.  We had a pop-up camper with us, and no extra riders.  Stephanie wasn't with us this time.  Each day, after Joe left at dawn to start his daily ride, it was up to Megan and me to strike camp, fold up the camper, and head to that day's destination.  But first, we toured the campground.

Iowa had a 5-cent deposit fee on cans and glassware.  Most riders just got up in the morning and left, leaving their trash behind.  Meg and I picked up as much recyclable trash as we had time for, then headed for a local shop to cash in on the deposits.  One day--and we weren't even trying hard--we turned in $7 worth of trash.  Wish we had started on this mission sooner!!  I let Meg keep the cash.  Had we been quicker on the draw, she would have been one rich young'un!

I THINK this is the trip where Megan found a salamander and named it Danielle.  I convinced her to turn it loose.  Whew!  This might even have been the trip where an entire dry bowl of Cocoa Krispies cereal flew all over the inside of the camper when the bowl got hit, accidentally.  We still laugh about that today.

The RAGBRAI was one big party on wheels.  The tradition was to dip a bike's rear tire into the Missouri River on the way eastward, then dip the front tire into the Mississippi at the end.  I watched more than one cyclist ride their bikes off the end of the pier at the Mississippi.  One dude who did so had ridden the whole trip barefoot.  In regular shorts.  Shirtless.  (My spouse, of course, had the best of cycling clothes and equipment, and had even shaved his legs to reduce wind drag.  Yeah...don't even ask!)

On a side note about the leg-shaving, Joe's reasoning was that shaved legs reduced wind drag.  Were he a racer and not just a rider, I could have understood that.  He also reasoned that shaved legs would save hair-complications should accidents happen to create road burns.  I thought it was all kind of silly but never said anything to anyone about it.  Honestly, I never paid attention to guys' legs, so I didn't figure anyone else did, either.  A few days after the RAGBRAI that year, Joe's cousin (7-year Vietnam POW) and his wife arrived in Indiana for a visit.  We went, too, in order to see J.B. and Nancy.  At one point, Nancy--who is a sassy kind of gal--sidled up to my husband at his parents' kitchen bar and said, somewhat sarcastically, "So, Joe...How long have you been shaving your legs??"  BUSTED!  I can't help it--I just guffawed!

I remember both RAGBRAI experiences as adventures.  Glad I was part of them, even if not as a rider.  And life moves on...