Fresno Famous

I've been trying to wrestle this down for a while.
Don't expect it to be short.

I used to ride my truck behind a lot of people on Bikes, Mostly Harleys, during funeral runs, or during memorial runs, various gatherings, etc.
She was a red '65 GMC Half-ton SlabSide with a toploader 4speed, 4x4 rear end out of a '68, and a blue flame six.
I had baby moons on off-white rims, basically a stock layout, except a short-cut glasspack that ran out the driver's side just after the cab, (you could shut down the motor with the key, leave it in gear, she'd load the pipe, and when you fired her back up she'd belch a flame with a shotgun blast out the side... it was a beautiful thing.
Former Bait truck out of Phoenix, then Texas, I bought her off of a travelling preacher friend, ditched the camper shell, and re stuffed the seat with a couch cushion.
A buddy of mine who is off the grid got her after I tail ended a Crown Vic.
He rebuilt it, drove it a while then used most of it for his '66, put a proper GMC Nose on her, painted her flat black, (of course,,,) and drove her down to Bike Week and back with a Full Dresser in the bed, (From Pa. that's saying something.)
I think she wound up up in the hills upstate being used as a logging winch.

I used to ride behind all of the scooters, to make sure that they weren't challanged from the rear, and to be able to put one or more in the bed, if they had operating difficulties... (old hogs could have, um, problems from time to time..)
There's nothing like a whole line of openheaders running down the road, seeing someobody off, proper. Roll under a bridge or go through a tunnel, and it's one of the most amazing feelings known to mankind.
Sometimes you had to block traffic, because, you know, folks didn't really respect bikes much... pretty stupid, as most of these guys were, stitching crews, and messing with them was pretty unsafe.
At each intersection, one or two guys would pull over, block the square, and wave everyone through, I'd bring up the caboose.

I've done that, without the truck, in funeral rides, in recent years.
Nothing pisses me off more than to be in a line of cars, taking someone to their final resting place, we all have our lights on,
---an have the signal change, or have someone cut off the chain... Makes my mom nervous when I jump out of the car, walk to the middle of the intersection and block the cross-flow, but half of the time we're from other areas of the state, -don't always know where we're going, and need to keep up with the rest of the chain,,,
--and there could be a mile of cars behind us that are in the same boat.

It's no big deal, I've directed traffic, trucks, airplanes, helicopters...
-You just have to know how to make eyecontact, know what you're doing, and believe that what you are doing is right... Most folks get it.
Those who don't,,, well, I'm not a small person, and I think it's still 12 points on a license to flatten somebody, besides in a suit and shades, they wonder if it's some sort of political thing, so usually they stop.

Two Friday's ago I rode with Critical Mass.

Now, I'm not a terribly 'in the loop sort of person,' (I listen to ELO for goddsakes...' (..okay I listen to a lot of really obscure stuff too,, but I am not on the speeddial of anyone from Survival Research Labs, Have no impressive piercings, -and Art School was a couple of decades ago... I'm older, going slightly grey on the sides, am getting fat, and don't slam to the Toxic Reasons so much anymore... It's cool, I got my stories.)

But I do ride.
I have this old Nishiki that someone gave me out of Sanger, when I was picking fruit.
It needs work. (like, spokes replaced and all,,) --and I have to adjust the shifter, she jumps out of 6th if I go too far.
The balled up sock covering the torn seat cover looks kind of obscene from various angles.
But I love it.
-It's the First Bike I've had since I was in my late Teens... we do well together.
I want an old Schwinn (DeLuxe Sting ray, A Manta, and a Cruiser, and a RollFast,) --but the 'Shiki is a good little ride... Reminds me a bit of my Paper Bike when I was twelve. (It was a light-leaf-Green lightweight Kia, loaded with the sunday edition I had to lean forward just to keep the front wheel on the ground.)

I made it downtown to where 'Mass starts a few minutes before liftoff.
I'm not really loud in person, so I hung loose, and sort of looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.
This big guy, (I'm not going to be too specific,) was standing there, can of suds in his hand, informed the group that we were headed out soon, and we waited.
It was a collection of interesting folks.
Lots of Arts Types (I felt at peace.)
More than a few with angry drippy symbols painted, plenty just regular joes and janes, one young lady who had a lovely tattoo that I mistakenly thought was purely from a band. (...And I had read the book it came from too... I am so no longer hip...)

Before I knew it, we were headed down an alley and building speed.

There is nothing like being part of a large group of cyclists...
There are always a couple of aspects to it...
First, I'm always aware of who's riding where, -and who's getting too close to whom, (it's from the old Chase Truck Days...)
--But second....
there is this sensory overload, and awareness when remaining in tight formation / closed wall setting, -you are sort of this rolling definition of sound,
---then suddenly, -you bang a right, and are out in cool air of the street... It's like the alleyway barfs you out onto the main thoroughfare,,, (not to be gross, but that's exactly what it looks like.)

-Folks Notice.
It's a sudden surge of Chinese Workers at rush hour, (though I don't think any of us were Chinese, -or even Asian.)

What got me was, the diversity of the group.
I mean, Alt. was definitely spoken, and lived among many of us.
Looking around gave a visual of several different decades where the water left it's mark.
A couple from the sixties, (thanks bro, for telling me about my low truck tire,,,)
Urban primitives,
the Well-Read,
the Well Employed,
those who could have passed for Elvis before the extreme weight gain,
and regular folks just cruising along who were your next door neighbor, or your insurance agent.
We were a swarm of different colored large things, --some that looked like they'd sting as soon as look at you,,, others -you'd think were taken hostage by the first... --and as the night wore on, you realized that anybody was everybody, and nobody was what you thought at first glance...
We were a kaleidescope.

I can't tell you where we rode.
(It's not some sort of '..if I told you, I'd have to kill you,' sort of thing...)
I can't tell you because I don't know the streets that well.
(I'm from NY... I lived for a long time Upstate,,, -which explains the safety Orange hunting cap...
I bought it one afternoon when I was working with a kid who was really suicidal, and I needed something that could be seen if I had to chase after her, -so my staff would know here I was...
Tonight it was to keep me from getting run over, or so I thought.

We rode all over the place, up into the tower, out past ball games, past two guys standing in their yards...
Some Folks knew instantly what this was. '...Critical Mass,'-they were saying...
We got stares, we got applauded, ...we were kind of silent, too busy pedalling...

I had told my landlord what I was going to be a part of earlier in the day. '...oh you mean you are going to go out and hold up traffic and cause trouble...' (?)
'-well, I don't think so, not sure, really, mostly I think we're just riding.'

I guess I should leave it at that.

But it had a strange effect, this ride.
Because I'm basically a herding-dog, I did what I knew to do,... headed into the traffic, slowed a bit, looped, blocked, and then caught up,,, speed, slow, circle, stop,,,, repeat.

For the most part, everybody in their cars knew the deal.
Most folks didn't have a problem with us. ('...Oh look honey, it's the monthly bicycle protest, seems they are are a few minutes late, I like what that fellow has done with his hair since last month...')
I didn't feel like a rebel, if that's what you're asking...

One pretty lady of color, standing in her yard, exclaimed, '...alright, cool what are you protesting for?!' --with this big smile, and a baby on her hip...
I heard a bunch of different comments and smiles tossed back,,,
I quoted 'the Wild Ones' '--whaddya Got?'
--but it really didn't stick...
everything seemed to sort of float past with the wind and the hum of my tires and chain...
we were this big surging, shifting group of, well, um, of Bicycles.
(I saw a few folks who even had Bicycles tattooed on them... serious Ink Bicycles, bubba, serious...)
It was basically a nice big fun glide.

Then there was this sort of, I dunno, Ritual I guess.
Things got unfortunate.

We were riding back down into the Tower District, maybe taking up a couple of lanes. (The folks behind us had a third to go around.)
Traffic built up a wee bit.
One cyclist was off on the left, to be honest I don't know who it was, I can't tell you if it was a guy or a girl
---but they were completely engulphed in the moment, just riding along...

A car came up, (big sedan,) and decided to challange the pack, --and specifically come up close on the one cyclist... the tall thin one in the loose shirt who was just on the left by themselves...

Before I could think about it, another rider, (smaller, kind of reminded me of 'Mouse' from Matrix, or a Dickens character in a factory someplace,) tore up, inside, passed me, cut over and went between the lone cyclist and the sedan, inches from the sedan's front bumper...
He slowed his bike, and the car slowed... but stayed inches off...
---and this weird dialogue began...
It was right out of the sixties...
The lady in the car, (probably forties or early fifties,) began yelling all about how the guy needed to 'get a job,' this was answered by this random series of riffs that had to do with capitalism, bicycles, meanings of life, (etc. etc.)
---all the while she's driving inches off of this kids (fenderless,) bike.
One slip and he'd have bought it.

Other cars got itchy and began to challange, so I slowed a bit and held the rear with a few others.
-but the social science lecture and the perjoratives went on in the lane to the left.... Finally the lady turned, and we just kept going.

The whole time I'm sitting there, pedalling away, kind of reminding myself not to get pissed and remove anyone's rearview mirror with my boot, (because:
A.) I was on a bike, not a motorcycle,
B.) I was wearing sneakers, not boots, and
C.) Well, there really was no reason to do such a thing...

--But what got me was,
-we were riding through the TOWER... Fresburgs' Arts, Alt, and Hippie captial of its own world...
And there we were,well, -among our own kind,
-and who was it that was riding our tails and giving us the old Archie Bunker rhetoric???
Fellow Tower folks...
I realized,
I was not a part of a movement,
-as much as I was part of a play...
--The 4000 lbs of Dearborn Steel that was happy to run me and the group over, (resulting in hospitalization or undertakers,)
--was far more real than even it's operator knew.
Surrealism with a mangled metal twist.

I wondered about such things as 'need.'
Like:
-Somefolks need more to be a part of a situation, and say stuff, even if it goes against their image... (The lady, not even caring that she sounded like her own parents when she was young...)
-or-
-the cyclists, just riding to ride, not really protesting, -maybe not even thinking of dying, or martyrdom,,
-but talking a bunch of retorts about capitalism, telling this lady, who had her family in the car, that she should no longer drive, but instead needed to ride a bicycle....)

I noticed something else too...
Most of the streets we were on... HAD NO Bike Lanes...
They were yelling at us from the cars '...Get in the Bike Lanes, ...Where are the Bike Lanes?'
--and the response was '...yeah, where ARE the Bike Lanes?'
(Tower District, Downtown, also around (I think) City College too...Even if we attempted to ride in a Bike Lane, there were none.)
---If there was ever a place in Fresno where Bike Lanes might feel accepted, --I think DownTown and the Tower would be it a logical choice...
---Maybe somebody on the Municipal Food Chain with Road Paint could notice this..)

The group began to thin out,,, a few here, a few there, small clusters of riders, ducked down sidestreets...
(It was then said that we could be picked up en-masse by the police and loose our bikes... So we rode tighter together.
'...yeah, I don't know if I want to bring my best bike out for Critical Mass, just in case...'
'--um, Dude, This IS my best bike, it's my only bike...'

I remember two things so clearly...

--at one point, not far from the govt. building, the lot of us riding down through closed office buildings, and weaving along on empty streets with the sounds of our gears and chains echoing up the walls.
We were the only ones there, just our little swarm.
'...this is accomplishing NOTHING, this is really GREAT, there is nobody here to see us, no traffic, nothing, we'er just riding all by OURSELVES at this point...' one guy said.

--And then, the same willowy rider, (who was initially gone after by the nice lady in the Sedan, --not the 'Social- Science-three-inches-off-the-bumper,' guy,)
-just calmly rode through a stopsign, (probably didn't even see it,) and was nearly broadsided by inches by a car...
-They didn't even break stride, (not Car nor Cyclist.)
It was like they passed through each other.

We stopped,,, there was a mustang coming at us, and, by the looks of it, they had their foot welded to the loud pedal...

It was getting dark.
We wound our way around, (having had other leaders dodge out and turn down streets,) and continued back to the starting point.

Nobody said much,,, not really the whole night... A few pleasantries here and there,,, but not a whole lot...
I introduced myself to a few folks, they thanked me for coming out, and I loaded back onto my truck.

I remember something else...
-it was from thousands of miles away, and a million years ago, when I was a kid.
We'd have these nights, in the mid-summer or late spring, when we'd ride around on our bikes at night in my town... I was raised in a tiny town in New Jersey...
-And on those nights, we all just rode around on our bikes, voices echoing and calling, the chrome of the fenders glinting along with the metal flake paintjobs, and the overhead rush of wind in the trees...
-a few of us actually had playing cards in our spokes...
no helmets, no lights, just a swarm of kids riding, -the sounds of pedals rubbing chainguards and fat tires thrumming.

I miss that.
Every time I mount up, I think of that.
This wasn't that.

I used to ride through my town, years later, home on winter break, at 4 in the morning, no hands on the handlebars, (they were in my pockets to keep them warm, -heading into the dairy store I had gotten a job at to earn a little before returning back. Right down the middle of the road, nobody else had even thought of waking up yet, not even the dogs.
All I heard was my chain against the glass storefronts in the grey mist.

This wasn't that, either.

'...I dunno If I want to go to Critical Mass, the last one I went to, it was upstate, and it was really, I dunno,,,, Angry or something..' -a friend of mine told me a few days before the ride.

I don't think this was angry.
I'm not sure what it was, exactly.
Just a bunch of people, more prone (by the looks of them,) to make a point, finding strength in numbers, and commeraderie in simply being able to ride down the street on a nice evening.
A bunch of kids, (now some of us, not so young anymore,) just riding.

--Unlike the biker runs,,, we really didn't intimidate anybody. I think we inconvenienced them, maybe annoyed them, and they let us know.

-They were right there, riding the edge of us, toying with the distance.
It was like we were providing a service or something,
'...it's because you people are THERE, riding down the street as a group on bicycles,
-that I feel the need to get right up on you, and call you into question,
-and if you fall,
-I will run you over,
-Oh, I'll cry,
-get angry,
--but I'll say it's your own damn fault...and the Cops will probably agree.'

Right Lady... Right.

Did you know, that in the desert, you can take a dirt bike, and chase rabbits with them?,
The rabbit takes off like a shot, runs full tilt, then, eventually the its heart explodes and they just drop in their tracks...
'...but if the rabbit wasn't sitting there, I'd not chase it, if it didn't run, it would be fine, it's the rabbit's damn fault for being there...'

-ah, yep,,, I see your point.

I guess everybody needs somebody else's actions to be their reasons.

It's a lot easier to ire up and just react to the actions of somebody else,,,
-even use such arcane and overplayed quotes as '..get a job.' -when riding up the ass of a skinny hazel-eyed kid who has an A painted on his jacket, (-and three jobs to make ends meet.)

(There needs to be a better reason besides '..well they were there, and they were in the way..' for mistreating someone.)
---But nobody I've seen lately wears a halo, so I guess somebody somehwere could justify the injury, it may get ink in the Bee.
Still,,, I don't think we want to really analyze that scene too deeply.
-Too many red flags being waved in front of too many bulls in this.
(Moths don't talk about flames with other moths, -nor why they fly to them.)

I don't think bicycles are going to go away.
-I know I'm not.

Maybe a solution would be,
-Bike Lanes, like MORE?
-Actually living in a bohemian area AND sharing the road with bicyclists?

-How'bout, Realise: IF you run over and kill someone on a bicycle, -even if they look like a pack of punks,
--you are still killing another human being? Somebody's kid, somebody's younger or older brother or sister?

(-What's the motivation here on this, katzie,,, Bad Karma? Increased Auto Insurance? Extensive Body Damage? What do you need? what works for YOU???)

-Pick one, -make up your own reason.

Maybe even come out with us.

It's a lot to ask, but, maybe starting in the ARTS district... for one, (the land of the cool, the home of the different,) -Lets have some actual places where people can just ride around and not wonder if they're going to come back in a bag.
-I think I'm going to magic marker my soc-sec # and the phone numbers of my younger brother back in Manhattan, -and my priest, onto my chest before the next run. -Just in case.
-My rhetoric on Social issues is better than the kids, but I'm older, slower, and not as agile,
-and there are a lot of sedans out there.

-Maybe someday, it will again become just be a bunch of kids going for a ride...
(No dark undercurrent, no protest, no death-defying decisons,
-nobody threatening to make you a hood ornament, --or more likely, -a speed bump.)

Just a ride.
-Maybe.

Until then, -here's to back then.