Amish Assault
The following story occured during college...too many years ago now that my age is beginning to show. 1992 to be exact. Many an adventure took place during my college daze and I didn't even drink! Now also understand I have nothing against the Amish and it has become a frequent passing joke with my cousin and I about Amish in general. To understand this better, consider my heritage...50% Polish, 25% German, 25% Pennsylvania Dutch....Yes, Amish. Somewhere along the line, the hats and shirts and pants were dropped from our heritage...the beards disappeared and someone in our family tree started driving...so here I am. With family names on my tree like Clouser and Hollopeter...the Amish tradition stands tall though. So here's a college Tale. This is just one of many tales that will follow. The days when I was going to clinicals in the early morning and then blowing off class the remainder of my day to enjoy the surrounding Hershey, Pa environment with unlimited riding and beauty.
1992, Kicking off my last year of college. Clinicals are easy, courses are relatively boring...so I turn my attention to more important lifestyle decisions that will no doubt touch upon my very existence once school is complete...which route to ride for the day! My bike, my 1988 Schwinn Premis, lovely white and silver...suntour equipped...smooth riding...love it!
The Place...the surrounding area of Hershey, Pa...found just outside the urban area of Harrisburg...lies some of the nicest riding on back roads. I used to cruise up to Mt Gretna...over to Lebanon and Lebanon Valley...E-town...Middleton and beyond...and some of the very best...Lancaster county. The gentle roadways dotted with fields and old barns and quaint houses. Just the coolest rides around without doubt.
One day, cruising along on a very long ride down this long and straight farm road in Lancaster Cty, just about the time when most in my classmates were enduring hour 2 of Gracey AKA Bone's class (Bones was in her 70s, still teaching and had the ability to hypnotize anyone) and I was on hour 2 of a pleasant ride. So there we were passing quietly by a Amish farmhouse...good conversation between my riding partner and I was rudely interupted by the bellowing of a farm dog bursting out of the front door of the house and down the dirt driveway toward the road in obvious pursuit of our hindsides! We were pretty lucky on that given day by having a bit of a headstart and a simple short burst was enough to leave the dog barking in our tracks while we peered back at two young Amish teens laughing as they watched the dog run after us.
Jump to one week later...same day of the week...same time of the day...Same place on the road...Dog outside lying in the sun on the porch...two amish teens spot us and rouse the dog into action...quite a shocker for "Frip" and I as we start our sprint early and try to time it just perfectly to avoid a mishap...Overshot...the dog skids just past the front of my bike as I dart right and feather the brake before winding up the sprint again...and once again...we escape...peering back we see the teens waving the dog onward as it tries desperately to continue the pursuit..."NOW that was intentional!" Frip replies...Yep was the only thinking I could muster as I cruised along bewildered.
Over the course of the years at home and at school...I had encountered many an Amish buggy and person walking along. Always friendly and never failing to lend a smile and friendly wave. Why now, does it seem these two cheering on the dog and releasing it upon us? Maybe they are bored...just being kids...or maybe they are considering venturing toward the mechanized dark side...faltering from their ways and trading in the straw hat for a nose ring! Nah...just kids being kids. No harm...
Jump again...one week later. Different route to surpass the 'dog' road...not as nice...not as pleasant...a little busier and a great deal more miserable in the end. Shoot...I like that other quiet roadway! Fripini agrees. We stop at a small store near 'dog' road and talk to another cyclists. He recounts a story of the dog himself and proudly shows us a scar on the back of his calf from the dog. He has never gone down the road again!
Another week passes and Ole Frip suggests we take our usual cruise...I hesitate...Nah...that dog road is too risky. "no, don't worry...it will be fine today" Frip states confidently...Ok. Off we go...after all, it is better than sitting through Bone's lectures. And we buzz along...after about an hour and a half, I have totally forgotten about the dog incidents in previous trips because I am simply enjoying the ride far too much...then we come to the split. 'Dog' road. Frip turns off and looks back as I cautiously follow...and we settle into our gentle pace alongside each other talking. Frip has no reaction...I have apprehension building in my legs...like waiting for the sprint to light up at the end of a race...I wait!
Off in the distance the house stands glowing in the sunlight...movement is detected on the porch as two figures move quicly off the porch and out of sight behind the barn. Frip rises from the saddle and stretches...looks at me and says "Go, Head him out...." and I shake my head, breath a sigh and begin the nervous dancing and watching as I crank it up to a high pace and prepare for the inevitable...shouts are now audible...the german accents screaming above the road hum from my tires...I spot the dog...far down toward the road...this is gonna be close...I begin the sprint out of the saddle powering hard on the pedals and keeping a keen eye on the missile coming at me...I eek out a bike length on it and keep the power on as I just barely clear the projectile as it snarls...shouts from the driveway are heard but no time to look...just go! go hard and go desperately...I quickly glance back expecting Frip to surpass me but notice he is not on my wheel...the dog is not pursuing...I look back and the dog is heading up the road...
The scene is one of a kamikaze on a mission...the dog is heading straight toward a slow moving Frip and the growls and snarls are more viscious than ever...Frip slows...I see his arm rise up high in the air and frame pump clearly visible...snap downward upon the leaping dog...YelP! The cry is Loud and the amish boys now in motion...yelling is heard...Frip is gesturing toward the dog and youths as the dog turns tail and heads back to the porch...Frip catches up and I let out a quiet grin. I love dogs...but that one deserved that, I thought.
Suddenly comes a sound I have never heard...Frip glances back and cries loudly...GO GO! I look back and see a Amish buggy...barreling up the roadway with horse pulling, the two teens sitting and holding tightly on the sides of the buggy...one brandishing a handle or wood object! Shite! Frip yells..."Don't look...just GO!" and head down I begin the strongest pull I can muster and with this begins the pursuit. Frip and I take turns pulling at the front. Speeds anywhere from 16-27 on the rolling roads are visible on my computer...it feels like I am fighting a headwind the entire time...the sound of the wooden wheels on the road seems terribly close. I keep the heat on and power over the short and small hills and down the dips as we continue to trade off spots at the front. Frip begins to tire, making me toil a little extra on the front each turn. The buggy has now long faded but neither I nor Frip has taken the time to look.
Now understand, this may be a quiet, not well traveled roadway...but there is still periodic traffic. A few cars pass by...one, a young woman smiling and pointing to her husband, Frip looks over at her and her face goes straight and flat. The agony must be clearly visible on our faces...we probably appear like keystone cops to these onlookers. She then begins laughing as her husband laughs as well, peering over at us. The high pursuit...the team time trial going on right before their eyes on this rolling roadway...speeds in excess of...20+ mph. It has to look like an absolute RIOT to these people is my only thought. Terror to us, is amusement to others.
Coming up to a T in the roadway, we look back...slow and make a right as we slowly begin our "cool" down on the way home. Wasted and spent...2.5 hours in the saddle with the past 30 minutes seemingly spent entirely in the anaerobic threshold. All this, for a dog! 'Damn you, warn me next time" is about the only words I can muster...the ride home is silent...and slow!
Now, years down the road from my Time Trial with the buggy...I can look back and laugh. And "Damn you Frip...another fine mess you got us into"