This is a re-post of something that happened while I was on bike patrol. Our department was doing all of the training in our region; consequently, I knew most everyone who rode a bike on the job in the area. This was an account of helping some fellow bike cops:
There was one particular rail trail in our area that erstwhile TDF riders claimed for their own. They buzzed people (including families with little kids) at closing speeds that would have surely caused serious injury to anyone they hit and themselves. I had friends that were bike cops who were responsible for patrolling the trail and they were at their wits end trying to get a handle on it before someone got hurt badly. It was basically the same group of guys, every Saturday and Sunday around mid-morning, when the trail was used heavily by recreational cyclists and families.
I was road racing at the time and was pretty fit; the plan was for me to get out my old Schwinn Varsity, wear a pair cut off jean shorts, a sleeveless flannel shirt and some low top Chuck Taylor basketball shoes. The only concessions I made were a set of GL330 tubie wheels with Record hubs and Clement Criterium Setas, a straight block, all topped off with Schwinn Approved toe clips and straps. I rolled down the path at the appropriate time and sure enough here they came in a paceline with the front two or three riders barking for me to get out of the way despite being about six inches from the right edge of the pavement. My bike cop friends had been sending folks entering the path ahead in the other direction because of "tree trimming" or something like that so we had that section all to ourselves.
I let them get well past me and didn't ramp up until the last guy looked around and said something to the group; I presumed it was that they were clear of me. I got down in the drops and motored up to the line that was traveling at a pretty good clip. The last fellow never heard me and after I recovered a little I pulled around to his left and and nearly shouted in my best Gomer Pyle voice "WHACH YA'LL DOIN'? RACIN'? The last four or five guys nearly jumped out of their skin
I proceeded to ask questions and make small talk while moving up the line until I got to the front. I chatted up the peloton bossman and asked if I could take a turn at the front, he obliged but only if I "held my line and didn't touch the brakes". I agreed and slipped in front of him; I flattened out my back and slowly ramped up the speed a little at a time while looking between my legs to see when he was losing contact with my wheel. Every time he did I slowed down just enough for him to make contact then I sped up ever so slightly until he lost contact again. I did that for a mile or so and then sat up on the tops of the bars and had a look around, the paceline was shattered so I slowed down and let them re-group; then we did it all over again
The second time, one of the guys from the back rode to the front and was determined to get by me so I half wheeled him until he blew and then slowed down for another re-group.
After everyone was back together I thanked them for letting me ride along, said I was in a hurry to get back and couldn't wait for them anymore. I dropped the hammer and rode the last four or five miles to the trailhead in the next town where they always stopped for a break. I waited on a bench next to a caboose a friend of mine rented bikes out of (not one the bike cop friends) and in they came, in ones and twos. Several had "the cough" you get when you've pinged your absolute limit you haven't seen in a while. I had my bike parked just far enough away that it would pass a cursory visual inspection to be an ordinary 1974 Lime Green Schwinn Varsity. As they parked their bikes I chatted as if nothing was wrong and asked about their ride schedule as I thought I might like to "catch up and ride with them some more". I've never heard more vague mumbling in my life
They were plenty pizzed and were walking away when I pulled out the coup de gras. I had put a pack of non filter Lucky Strike cigarettes in my shirt pocket, put one in my mouth and asked the crowd of riders if any of them had a light before they went in
As they went inside, I told them I was off on the weekends and would hang around for the chance to ride together again. My bike cop friends said they didn't return to that particular path the rest of the season. It may have been later that same year or the next, my partner and I were at work patrolling the Dayton bikeway (we were on the Dayton Police Bike Patrol) when we saw a couple of the guys from that group. They stopped and spoke to us for a few minutes and I could tell one them was clearly trying to figure out where he'd seen me before. We were in uniform and it threw him off just enough that he just couldn't place me. They rode off about 30 or 40 yards and stopped, the guy that recognized me (or thought he did) was talking to the other guy and they both looked back at us. I gave them the "are you OK" thumbs up and they returned it. Then, because I can never leave well enough alone, I called out to the both of them and asked if either had a light
They shook their heads no, clipped in and rode off
