Ride Report: Cotton Patch Classic (Greenville, TX)

The Cotton Patch Classic is one of those rallies that seem to largely depend upon word of mouth and reviews on sites like Bicycle-Stuff.com to get the word out, so it's not surprising that I hadn't heard of this ride until a couple months ago, when a riding companion gave me his glowing recommendation. I was initially skeptical, as the ride's web site is a bit sparse, providing registration information, route maps, and start time—but practically nothing about the Rally Round Greenville Celebration festivities that would be part of the experience. The map showing ride day parking scattered throughout downtown Greenville just shouted "CHAOS!", but I sent in my entry fee and waiver and made my plans to attend.

Greenville is between 45 minutes' and an hour's drive from my home, depending on who's driving. One of the nice things the CPC folks did for those of us who would travel from the Dallas area was to provide packet pick-up sessions at a couple local bike shops a few days before the rally. One of these was my own shop of choice, on my way home from work, so I just stopped by on Thursday to pick up my numer tag, map, and t-shirt. Having my number pinned to my seat bag before I ever left the house for Greenville this morning and not having to mess with packet pick-up when I got there was a thing of beauty.

I mentioned my concern about finding parking, but the CPC organizers had that figured out, as well. As I approached the downtown area on highway 380, a volunteer with a walkie-talkie and a flashlight flagged me down and directed me down the proper street to the next volunteer with a walkie-talkie and a flashlight—and so on. Within minutes, I was safely parked next to a bunch of racer boyz who were cranking techno music and debating which was better: depilatory cream or a razor.

It was a few minutes before 7:00 and I didn't have to pick up my packet, so I had plenty of time to unload and assemble my bike (I load it all in the back of my car if I have to drive more than 20 miles or so), apply sun screen, etc. By 7:30, I'd exited one of the provided porta johns and headed for the staging area provided for those of us riding the tour routes. The racers were being staged at another corner of the town square.

With time to kill, I spotted a couple people I know from the local bike clubs and just enjoyed socializing until a few minutes before 8:00, when I headed toward the rear third of the group. After my experience with a mass start at the Tour de Paris, I was hoping that by hanging out more toward the back I might find a little more room to ride during the first five miles. As it turned out, this start of 800+ people (I saw tag number 885, but there may have been higher) didn't stay clumped up long, so even that was a pleasant surprise.

Within a mile of the start, I'd spotted Raymond and Judy, a couple I met a couple weekends ago on a local club ride, riding with Dave, who was part of the small pack of recumbents I rode with for a while during the Collin Classic. I tucked in to make an even four, and we were having a good old time for about a mile.

"GLASS!!" I yelled, as I picked my way through the remains of a discarded Smirnoff Ice bottle.

"Pf-SSssssSSSsssst!" Dave's rear tire responded, as he rode right through the shards.

The first tube change took 10 minutes, and we made it about 25 yards before beginning the second. Judy and I had very carefully checked the tire for glass and hadn't found anything that might cause another flat, but with a second opportunity to take a look, we discovered a 3/8" cut in the tire. The four of us decided that this must've been big enough so that the new tube bulged out through it and flatted, so we applied a tire patch to the inside of the tire and booted it with a dollar bill. Dave didn't have another tube, but since I carry two and just happen to be one of the relatively few people who would carry the 650c tube he needed, we were all set. Karma cooperated by sending us the Plano Cycling & Fitness SAG wagon, so I was able to replace my tube. Just to keep the karma positive, I pressed a five-dollar bill into Jesse's hand (yes, I know the names of the PC&C employees).

Jesse pointed out that the shop doesn't charge people for tubes on rides like this. I pointed out that I appreciate the amount of time and expense the shop devotes to supporting charity rallies and that it made me feel good to know I was one of the few people who would ever consider paying for a tube. It's rare to catch Jesse without a smile on his face, but my comment got a real face splitter out of him.

Half an hour after the first puncture, we were back on our way. By then, even the woman who got a late start towing a baby trailer and shepherding a little boy on a bike with 10" wheels had passed us. We weren't going out of our way to make up time, but with a bit of a tailwind and all that clear air to ride in, we averaged over 18 mph for the first twenty miles and had begun to pass some stragglers. We just rode our ride, enjoying each other's company and the beautiful countryside.

I was enjoying the tail wind and taking in the rural sights when Raymond pulled up short after noticing his rear wheel was wobbling.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, Raymond and David had kludged the errant spoke back into the rim. At this point, we had a group meeting. We could either go ahead with our plan to ride the 63-mile route, climb the Leonard hills, get our metric, and never see another rider; or we could go a little shorter, ride the 54-mile route, and make it back to Greenville before all the smoothies and pizza were gone. Hmm... 54 miles won out, the ayes unanimous. When we got to Leonard, we turned east toward Bailey (map), skipping the gnarly hills and gaining about 7 miles on the 63-milers.

It turned out we'd made the right choice. Between the stiff south headwind, the long string of Escher rollers,* and (most significantly) the cramps that Dave was fighting with 15 miles to go, we were glad for a little less challenge and a lot more fun. The notorious Leonard hills will still be there next year, and taking the "shortcut" meant we ended up on the same rest stop schedule as Lancenotstrong, Allez, and Allez' husband—so I got to have some nice little visits with them.

When we arrived back in downtown Greenville, the party was in full swing. There were go kart races, all sorts of awnings sheltering people selling who knows what, top fuel dragsters and antique Fords on display, live music, and... oh yes: strawberry smoothies. And plenty of pizza. We chose to sit around a table and chat instead of indulging in all the happy chaos, but there was a great vibe in the air that capped off the day quite nicely.

I've mentally added the Cotton Patch Classic to my 2007 calendar.

* This expression is the result of a conversation I had with another rider, who wondered aloud, "How can we just keep going up without ever coming down?" I observed that I'd been on routes where I'd thought the same thing and that it was like riding in an Escher print.