Two Wheeled Life Part 6

 Two Wheeled Life Part 6

American Greg LeMond in 1990 would again wear the rainbow striped jersey of World Champion as he had after his first win in 1983. But there was no Giro d'Italia tour planned by the boss as LeMond would focus on the Tour de France, meaning we had to follow the Corsa Rosa via a 900 phone number for results. Yes, like a phone-sex scheme, $1 a minute would let you listen to a recap of the day's stage complete with overall standings.

Excitement for LeTour was huge in the USA, spawning some competition for the tour company who had a monopoly on the market until LeMond blew it wide open.  The boss wanted to take anyone and everyone who wanted to go, adding yet another group to make three for the final week of the big race. Once Heather proved her French was as good (actually better) than most of the so-called translators he had, our mechanic/translator/tour guide duo was given our own group to run. The Swiss triathlete would run one of two for the first part of the race and we were assigned to his group.

He didn't need any translation help of course, unless you count the almost fist-fight he got into with a hotel owner. One of those "I'm better than you!" arguments over who spoke the language better. I learned from him that Swiss people are superior and the Swiss people from the French-speaking part of Switzerland are even more superior. It took me, "Mr. Pepe Le Pew" French speaker to calm the hotel owner down and get him to simply show us where to store our bicycles for the night.

We were happy to run our own small tour group for a segment of the Tour. While we'd had clients suggest we break away and start our own tour company over the years, this experience made us think more about it. More than a few of the guests expressed dismay when it was time to return to a group run by the boss or by his Swiss tour guide.

One incident stands out on this tour. The boss didn't want to turn away any potential client, fearing if he/she didn't come with his operation they'd go elsewhere and help these competitors get a foothold in what he considered "his" business since he was the pioneer of the idea in the USA. These increased numbers meant increased numbers of what I will call "problem customers".

Some people don't treat those in the service industry very well and their antics are often legendary. This fellow was no exception, so obnoxious that yours truly threatened to punch him out if he didn't stop his verbal abuse of Heather. He stopped, but seemed still determined to make both of our lives miserable during the time we had to look after him. I wondered if we really needed to take people like him? Couldn't they be screened out somehow? Why not let someone else deal with them? But it wasn't my company, I just worked there.

This fellow got his comeuppance once we were back with the main group. The boss called and told us someone had to go to a hospital. This happened now and then, though rarely from a bike crash, contrary to what you'd expect. Appendicitis and even an ectopic pregnancy happened during our tour guide careers. In this case the fellow had a sort of bike accident, somehow slicing the back of his calf open on his bicycle's front chainring while trying to get his foot into the pedal.

The boss drove up with this fellow, obviously in great pain. Heather soon realized he was "Mr. Nice Guy" the guy who made our lives miserable. I'll never forget the look on his face when he realized who would be translating for him at the hospital! Heather joked that she would tell the emergency room docs the guy was allergic to painkillers, so they'd have to clean-out and sew-up his calf without them!

There were no interviews with Greg LeMond for 1990. Just like Hampsten at the Giro in 1989, the defending champion's in too much demand. The boss went back to his old ways, lining up some former 7/11 riders now backed by Motorola. They were fine but we really missed LeMond who won again, this time for a new team and a real salary, plus we missed the Tour of Italy. France was great but LeTour was becoming a lot of work, while Italy really had a hold on us.

Post-Tour we returned to the USA, loaded up a car and drove to Charlottesville, VA where I had a bike shop manager job lined up...or so I thought. Heather found work with her other passion, horses. She'd been a competitive horse rider as well as cyclist, so working on a horse farm was second nature and she got on well with the owner. I couldn't say as much as the bike shop owner wasn't going to install me as manager for his 2nd store right away, insisting I learn more about his business by working under a New York City "hipster" couple he had managing it at the time.

I could see why he wanted to replace them as soon as we met but decided to go with the program - I needed this job! A few weeks went by but the boss seemed reluctant to put his plan into action. While I loved the area's great cycling (one of my regular rides passed by Jefferson's Monticello estate) great weather and friendly people, I finally insisted something be done, I wasn't there to work for someone else, especially people as incompetent as this couple.

An employee meeting was soon held, one I assumed would include the announcement of the management change, but the store owner chickened-out it seemed. I waited and waited but the meeting ended with me wondering why the meeting was held? The next day I met with the store owner and explained I'd spent a lot of money to move to Charlottesville, took this job over other possibilities and unless he was willing to honor his promise, he'd need to cover those expenses so I could at least break-even and find other employment. In some ways I didn't want to work for him anyway after this, so I was happy when we reached a settlement and I was free. Free to watch the NYC duo run his 2nd store into the ground.

But free as I now had no job. The settlement money would keep us going for awhile but we needed INCOME! Heather saw an ad for salesmen at a local car dealer and insisted I apply. I was hired along with a half-dozen others and put into a group run by one of the sales managers. They would teach us how to sell cars their way. I'd already had sales training so soon ended up their top student. The sales managers had their pick of the students to reward their efforts and I was #1 pick and put on the sales floor soon after.

Selling cars was basically a commission deal. I was used to that from my outside salesman experience with motorcycles and bicycles, plus I liked and knew a bit about cars as well. Within a few months I was featured in the dealership's monthly ad - "Salesman of the Month" the person who sold the most cars in the previous month. Our financial "war-chest" was growing quickly when combined with Heather's increased earnings as she became more involved with the horse farm.

One day the bike shop owner contacted me for a meeting. He'd finished paying off the settlement so I wondered why? The NYC couple was running his 2nd store into the ground and he wanted me to come back and save it. I felt sorry for him as he was a nice fellow but I was making too much money at the car dealer and with that and what Heather was making we knew we'd soon have the money to return to Massachusetts and get Heather back into grad school. Plus the summer bike tour season wasn't that far away. US interest in European cycling was huge so we'd be at both the 1991 Giro d'Italia and Tour de France soon.

I secured a two week leave-of-absence from the car dealership to work the Giro d'Italia. I don't remember what excuse I used but they weren't going to lose their top salesman over him being gone for a couple of weeks. We'd really missed Italy and had a great time, though one client stood out from the rest.

"Trust-fund Boy" signed up for the vacation package along with his "Man Friday" who turned out to be the owner of a swanky bicycle store in toney Brentwood, CA. It seemed the two were combining business with pleasure as the bike shop owner wanted his pal to bankroll his efforts to secure US importation rights to a famous cycling brand from Torino. At the welcome dinner after introductions, Mr. Trust-fund quietly asked us why we didn't run our own tour company since we had the skills vs our boss, who he said had none?

We replied that we had a friendly relationship with the boss and saw no need to break-up a good thing. We found out just how obnoxious this fellow was the next night when we watched as he ordered and sent back three different bottles of wine in the hotel ristorante. This guy was clueless, as unless the waiter suggests the wine and assures you that you'll like it, the only reason to send it back is if it's defective or spoiled in some way. Again I wondered if there wasn't some way to screen people like this out?

By this time our van caravan routine had become well rehearsed. We had CB radios in them after my insistence, even paying for a pair myself to prove their worth. Eventually the boss let me order them for all of the vehicles. He really liked the greater control and it helped a lot with the convoy, especially on the superhighways on long drives across France.

But they also came in handy during exits from race venues as in this Giro d'Italia. I was always the last van in line, sort of the gate-keeper. On the highways we'd draft each other like a NASCAR race, allowing the entire group to go closer to the speed limit than a single van with 9 bicycles on the roof and 9 passengers could go. But you really had to pay attention and the CB radios became essential when it came time to move left and pass slower traffic.

It worked like this: I would get a message "OK Larry" from the boss as he closed-up on slower traffic in the right lane. I would wait for an opening in the traffic to our left, then change lanes, blocking any vehicles behind so the rest of ours could move left in one (we hoped) smooth move behind the boss' lead van. When we'd cleared the slower traffic I'd get the message to move back to the right. It all worked very well once the other tour guides got a little practice, I think only once did anyone crash and thankfully that was a few years later during a transfer where most of the clients had been put on a train.

Often we'd be at the top of a mountain pass, waiting for clients to ride along the route and then stop to await the race finish. Then the task was getting down and off to the night's hotel. We used a similar tactic on the two lane mountain roads: Police would escort the real team vehicles with bikes and riders off the mountain, clearing the opposing lane of traffic with police on each end.

I would watch for one of these convoys, usually the police and less than a half-dozen race team vehicles. With our vans covered with bicycles on top and advertising stickers on the sides the police usually had no issues when a similar move was made by our caravan. But the difference here was the roads and the speeds! Teams used station-wagons with 4-5 people inside and 6-8 bicycles on the roof. These were much faster and more maneuverable on the twisty mountain descents, making staying in the police escort a challenge in a boxy van with 9 people inside and the same number of bikes on the roof!

This kind of driving didn't bother me or the boss but Mr. Trust-fund freaked out, demanding we quit our race down the mountain. I can still remember him getting right in the boss' face when we finally arrived at the night's hotel. If nobody much liked him at the start of the tour, he really had no fans now. He got a comeuppance of sorts later when the boss, who he'd pestered to ride with him multiple times, finally agreed one afternoon after we'd arrived at our hotel.

"Trust-fund" and "Man Friday" were dressed and ready-to-go. The boss demanded that I suit-up and join them. Uh-oh, this wasn't going to be pretty but what choice did I have? The area around the hotel was mercifully flat, mostly access roads around rice-paddies. Yes, that risotto rice is grown in Italy. The race was on! The boss went to the front and demonstrated his hatred of Mr. Trust-fund by repeatedly trying to drop him. I was hanging on for dear life, doing just short stints at the front with tongue almost in my front wheel spokes.

"Man-Friday" would drag his boss back up to us, closing any gap. Highway overpasses were another place to attack, leaving me gasping for breath as the "race" continued. Finally Mr. Trust-fund was dropped for good while "Man-Friday" who we guessed must have become as sick of this fellow as we were, closed the gap but left his boss far behind, but just close enough to see where we were going so he wouldn't get lost. We waited for Trust-fund at the hotel entranc, where all he could say between gasps for breath was "good ride". I guess my boss had made his point?

We'd use this same hotel again where another incident occurred: a late arrival and check-in had us scrambling to put bikes away, unload luggage and get the room keys for our guests. The hotel had a sort of annex with ground-floor rooms with sliding glass doors opening into a grassy courtyard. I got the last bike put away and rushed off for a quick shower and change before the group dinner. As soon as I had every stitch of clothing off, a female client barged into the room via the sliding glass door, evidently thinking it was her room! "Live Nude Tour Leaders" became the joke though I think she was more red-faced than yours truly.

Next up was LeTour, but first we had to return to the USA where I went back to work at the car dealership to find some changes were being made. The sales force was being separated into two competing groups, each with their own sales manager. I hadn't been assigned to one so I was able to choose and went with the team mostly made up of Black folks, mostly because I liked the Black sales manager who'd helped me close a lot more deals than his White counterpart. A prize was announced for the team that sold more cars in a certain period, a period I'd missed half of. But our team won and they voted me a full-share of the prize money as I'd sold a lot of cars in just two weeks.

Then I had to tell them I was quitting, giving two-weeks notice before we climbed on a plane to Paris for Tour de France 1991. Since LeMond had won again in 1990 the boss had a massive group for this one, I think it was three groups of 5 vans, so 120 clients in total! Some serious money for a guy who got his start offering one-day cycling tours in the Santa Barbara wine country!! We'd been negotiating better salaries as our work load went up with these ever-larger groups. More competitors were coming too, making the "problem client" issue more and more prevalent.

In a couple seasons, I don't remember the exact years, the boss also followed the Tour de Suisse. I don't even remember why but American Andy Hampsten raced it a few times so maybe that was the reason. This meant staying over between the Giro and Tour for us vs flying back to the USA, eventually negotiating a deal where we shared in the savings from fewer trans-atlantic flights. When interest in the Swiss tour dwindled we suggested a challenging tour riding around in our beloved Italy instead. Not following races, but just ride, eat, drink, sleep, repeat. The boss chose Tuscany for this and got no complaints from us!

LeMond couldn't win again in 1991, the famous year his former team PDM withdrew from the race with stomach issues. Rumors were some sort of doping product they used had somehow spoiled but Miguel Indurain began the string of mostly boring victories that would last until 1995. Post-tour we returned to Virginia, loaded up our stuff and returned to Massachusetts with a well stocked bank account.

I tried a job with a car dealership, secured with the great reference from my former employer but this dealership was poorly run, surviving only because the Honda cars they sold were in high-demand. I'd burned my bike shop bridges in this area so things were looking grim until Heather (just like in VA) saw a newspaper help-wanted ad for a service manager for an independent car repair shop in a tiny town within cycling distance to the north of us.

Resume was soon sent off and surprisingly the phone rang! This place was looking for someone to work only during the school term. With five colleges in the area their business dried-up in the summers so they really didn't want or need a service manager then, making our situation perfect so I got the job. Heather was able to attend school full time again and excelled in her studies while we again enjoyed riding road and mountain bikes along with XC skiing in the winter.

Service manager was a decent job, something I was familiar with from the bike shop experiences and the summers off made the bike tour obligations easy. The owners liked and trusted me enough to actually take their first non-summer vacation in years!