Ron Utter
[Editor's Note: The following article is a reprint. I don't know when it was last featured in our
newsletter, but it was sometime before I accepted editorial responsibilities. I'm not sure how to set
it up. Ron claims it's true. In my experience, he's normally a sensible, down to earth kind of guy, but,
after reading the article, you be the judge. If true, the account is noteworthy. However, like me, you
may be inclined to speculate whether Ron may have had something stronger than Gatorade in his
waterbottle on a bike ride on a chilly March day some years ago. You be the judge...]
We've probably all encountered a fellow biker, stopped beside the road, with some type of misfortune,
in need of assistance. Maybe they were fixing a flat tire or, heaven forbid, pulling the rear derailleur
out of the spokes. I've stopped and lent a hand to a few of these less fortunate cyclists, because, like
eating Quaker Oatmeal, "It's the right thing to do." However, never have I had an experience like I had
a few years back.
As I was out riding on a chilly day in early March in the northern extremities of Jackson County, I
noticed, up ahead, off to the side of the road, a cyclist bent over his bike, apparently working on it.
Seeing this, I knew I had to help. As I pulled my bike off the road, I greeted the other cyclist, but
he didn't look up. He was too busy working on some component on his bike.
The first thing I noticed was that it was some kind of "super bike." I said, "Nice bike you got there."
but he just seemed to ignore me and kept working on his bike. I knew I had to help this guy, because I
figured he must really have a problem. The components on the bike were unlike any I had ever seen. I
guess the best way to describe them is that they kind of looked like the old Mavic Mektronic system.
However, it was not only void of a rear derailleur cable like the Mektronic, it didn't have a front
cable or brake cables either. It all seemed to be run by some kind of sophisticated computer system.
Additionally, the components had a strange brilliance that I had never seen before on either the Campy
or Shimano groupos. The frame tubes were slightly larger in diameter than a pencil and each wheel had
only two 16 gage spokes. I wondered how two spokes could support a wheel without collapsing. Next time
I would talk to Jeff, I would ask him about that.
I tried to start a conversation, but all I heard him say was something about being a woman stuck in a
man's body. After I heard that, I thought maybe I should just be on my way, but, no, this was a cyclist
in need. He remained kneeled down next to his bike and wouldn't look up at me. I tried to get a little
closer and to figure out what the problem was with the bike. This guy was fooling around with one of the
accessories on the bike, but I wasn't sure what it was. The best I could tell, it had something to do
with the computer system.
Then he mumbled something about having to rendezvous with the mothership in 30 minutes. About this time,
I wondered if it wasn't getting a little strange, but this was a cyclist in need. I wasn't quite sure
what the problem with the bike was yet, but I felt I was making small steps in getting to know this guy.
At least he was talking to me, and I really wanted to help him out.
As a last resort, I pleaded if there wasn't some way I could help him out. Then he turned around and
looked at me. I finally understood what was going on. "Oh, ok, see ya later." I said, as I hopped on my
bike and did the fastest time trial of my life all the way home. That's the last time I'm going to stop
and help another cyclist. You see, this person I ran into wasn't even a human. It was an alien from
another planet.
Ron Utter is a long-time member of the Cascades Cycling Club. He is currently
serving as club Secretary. Ron regularly provides articles to our newsletter. He also reports that he
hasn't been anywhere near the mothership in years..
For past articles from Ron, Click [Here]
