Fifty Ways to Ride Chequamegon Some people will say just about anything or do just about anything to get into the Chequamegon Fat Tire Festvial. As a last ditch effort for those not selected to race, race director Gary Crandall three years ago instituted the
"50 Ways to Ride the Chequamegon" essay. It's led to some interesting reading.
Anne Grabowski was a shoe–in when she enlisted the help of three–time Tour de France and twice Chequamegon 40 champ Greg LeMond. Her essay entry came complete with pictures of her and Greg in a local bike shop holding a cardboard sign that reads: "2001 Chequamegon or Bust." A bubble in the first picture above LeMond says, "This woman's ability blinds me." The kicker was a signed
postcard from the former world champion that pleads:
"Gary, Let her in, please!!"
How could he resist.
Several wives wrote in on behalf of their husbands, and indirectly themselves. Mrs. Hugh Kelly, who signs herself as a "former bike widow," pleads with Crandall to let her husband ride the race
"He barely fits into his shorts anymore … He has no purpose when he's not training and he's buying the next larger pants size. He just lays there
in other areas of the house, if you know what I mean. This can't be happening to me."
She ends with "…we don't need a therapist, we need one confirmation card reassuring my husband that Chequamegon still loves him and to get his ass in gear and get in shape. It's true what they say: Bikers ARE better lovers."
That essay earned Hugh a spot on the starting line.
Suzanne Smith, wife of Jim Smith, also complained of her husband's listless character after he
found out his entry in the race had been denied.
"My husband was passed out drunk. He had spent the night before in the usual way – eating Old Dutch and drinking Grain Belt. When did it happen, I asked myself? I thought and I thought and I could only figure that the day my husband turned into a no good bum was the day he was rejected by your ShekaWamaWhatever fat tire race."
Apparently, Jim now just lays around the house asking for the TV remote and another beer from
the refrigerator.
She ends with, "Take my husband, please!! You are the only hope I have of prying him out of his La–Z–Boy. Here's what I've had to look at since he was rejected."
In the following picture there was Jim – reclining in the La–Z–Boy, swilling a beer, munching chips and clicking the remote. Big pressure on Jim to reform now that he's in the race.
For visual appeal, Jay Walbridge and Duane Higgs surpassed all other essay entrants. Walbridge sent in
an x–ray of his shattered pelvis, complete with the stainless–steel plates and bolts to hold his hip together. He "sustained a freaky, near –paralysis and near–death accident on a rope swing."
Higgs photocopied his lapel pins from the last nine Chequamegons and listed his finishing time beneath each one. Where the 2001 pin would be is a big question mark and his goal for a finishing time. Both Higgs and Walbridge pitch strong arguments, and both will be competing in this
year's race.
Two writers resorted to literary means to plead their cases. Greg Pautsch tried his hand at poetry, turning in five limericks. Here's a sample:
Fat Tire Dust
For me it's the Fat Tire or Bust!
This race is an absolute must!
I've been training all year,
And I am oh–so near,
To feeding the competition my (Fat Tire) dust!
The Fat Tire Rabbit
Oh please let me ride this great race,
I promise I'll start at a good pace,
may slow down later,
Get passed by Ralph Nader,
But at the gun he'll have something to chase!
Todd Bollum sent in an essay titled "The Cheqaumegon Heart," based very loosely on Poe's "Tell–tale Heart." It goes: "The devastating truth woke me from a sleep and haunted me day and night – I had not gotten into the Chequamegon Fat Tire 40. The haunting would not leave me, as it pulsed in my head – Chequamegon, Chequamegon, Cheqaumegon. Make it stop Fat
Man."
The most compelling entrant, however, was sent in by Pete Otterson, a fourth–grade teacher from Prior Lake, Minn. Otterson's students wrote letters begging Crandall to let their teacher in. "I just found out why he's being such a grouch. Man, if you knew how devastated he is, he is probably crying during prep time." Another student writes: "He's been giving us so much homework and he's been pulling out his hair, the man is almost bald." One letter
features a picture of Otterson with hair coming out his head and a bike off to the side. "I found out why he is so crabby; he wants to do the flat tire race."
Only a heartless curmudgeon could resist the supplications of a classroom of fourth–graders. It worked.
Those who get denied entrance into the race next year remember the "50 Ways to Ride the Chequamegon" essay contest. A creative writing class might not be a bad idea either.
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