Propaganda

Having just bashed my bike into a standing truck (the visor on my safety helmet slipped and I hit ‘er pretty good), my attention focused on the following news item out of San Francisco this afternoon. This is the kind of thing we used to do as kids, in Hillsborough CA. Taking our bikes at the age of 12 or 13 to the top of Crystal Springs Road at the foot of the dam, then racing for all we were worth down the hill (cars be damned) and finishing up at South Hillsborough School, aka the Hillsborough Athletic Club. Several competitors went over the side and were never heard from again; others went on to compete in the notorious school bus chase down that great hill above the North School. The idea was to get as close to the speeding bus as possible without hitting it. Lance Armstrong would not have stood a chance.

SAN FRANCISCO
Eat your heart out, Lance Armstrong
Steve Rubenstein, Chronicle Staff Writer

Monday, April 17, 2006

Seventeen tricycles gathered at the top of Russian Hill on Sunday to prove once again why it is not a good idea to ride a tricycle down Russian Hill.

There were more than a couple of skinned knees, an occupational hazard for tricyclists of all ages, including the purported grown-up ones who took part in the sixth annual Lombard Street tricycle race.

The tricyclists arranged their mostly plastic vehicles at the top of the brick curlicue while about 500 tourists, realizing that something even weirder than what their guidebooks had warned them might happen in San Francisco, aimed their cameras.

The race is a bit of conceptual art organized by artist Jon Brumit, who has also made a piano from a typewriter. In the tradition of all artists, he said he did not know what he was doing.

“I’m not the best person to ask what this means,'’ he said. “For a while I was concerned about whether this made sense, but not anymore.'’

While he was pondering the eternal questions, the competitors applied their final strips of duct tape to the bottom of their shoes, to increase their braking power. Tricycles have no brakes and are stopped on steep hills by dragging one’s feet, Fred Flintstone-style, if they are stopped at all.

And then, while a friendly cable car blocked traffic at the top of the hill, Brumit hollered “Go!'’ and the pack started its descent as a light rain began to fall.

Within seconds, the road went to the right, but the tricycles didn’t. There was a giant pileup of legs, arms and plastic wheels into a low retaining wall.

While the pack tried to untangle itself, Steve Aston — who was one of the last to cross the starting line — sized up the situation and somehow maneuvered his purple Huffy around the pileup to take the lead.

In the ensuing 60 seconds, not a soul was able to catch him, even through Aston crashed into four walls himself as he continued down the Crookedest Street in the World.

“I started last, because I was meditating,'’ he said. “It turned out to be a good strategy.'’

Nate Kendall, a Livermore middle-school teacher who has won the past five races, finished second in his red Fisher-Price with duct tape-covered wheels.

“It was the rain,'’ he said. “The rain changed everything. The duct tape isn’t the right strategy in the rain.'’

When it was over, Aston was awarded a pair of decorated underwear, and Brumit said he was gratified that no competitor got more than a skinned knee and that no neighbor called the cops.

“This race may seem ridiculous, but it transcends ridiculousness,'’ said veteran competitor Luke Powell. “This is about something else.'’

E-mail Steve Rubenstein at srubenstein@sfchronicle.com.

This entry was posted on Monday, April 17th, 2006 at 4:42 pm and is filed under Sports. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.