A Journey Through Time Chapter 3

A Journey Through Time Chapter 3
Fondest Memories One of my fondest memories was as a 6 year old. Once a year, Dad and I would follow the drama and exploits of the cyclist in the Goulburn to Sydney bike race. Dad was keen on bike racing but never raced himself. We did this for 6 years from September 1936 until the storm clouds of war grew dark and menacing in1941 and the race was put on hold. Dad would bring home from his work a 1928 Whippet truck, and early on a Saturday morning Dad and I would drive out to Paddy’s River which was about 80 miles from Sydney where we would stop and boil the billy for our cup of tea, then follow the Goulburn to Sydney bike race all the way to the finish. These were wonderful days, the racing was exciting and I remember being amazed at the speed the cyclist reached as they pedalled the big gears onto glory in Sydney. “Over those years I witnessed some of the great road riders – Charlie Winterbottom, Alf Strom, Bill Moritz, Ossie Nickalson and Ernie Milliken were just a few of them. I have seen some great finishes to road races in my time, but none as memorable as 50 odd riders sprinting down Joseph Street, Lidcombe, in the finish of the 1938 “Goulburn to Sydney.” The finish of the race saw riders across the road jostling for position as they swung their machines from side to side looking for the best position or best wheel to lead them out in the fast and furious dash to the finish line. After the race Dad and I would mingle with the riders behind the finish line and listen to their stories of hard luck or success. There would be jokes flying and tall stories told and friendly banter between the riders. What struck me was the camaraderie and friendship the riders had for each other, there was a real brotherhood amongst the riders even after competing, shoving and pushing each other over the entire course. On the drive home Dad and I would talk about the racing, the tactics and the riders and I knew then that I wanted to be a racing cyclist. I had caught the cycling bug. In 1941 Dad and I followed the Goulburn to Sydney bike race for the last time before the dark shadow of war changed the world for ever. That day we saw some of the sports great amateur road riders, Alf Strom, George Moore, Harold Johnson, Frank Gould, Jack Gorrie, Linsie and Roger Arnold, George Bismire, Tommy Williams. After the war I would compete against some of those riders. Back in those years, it was only for my dad taking me to the bike racing, that I decided I wanted to be a bike rider. It was the excitement and passion of watching those great riders in action. Little did I realise what was in front of me and just how tough and cruel this sport can be with all the suffering and sacrifices that I would make in the years ahead. At this point in time I had never ridden a bike and had no money to buy a bike. The years of the depression had ended, and even though both mum and dad were working, I would not ask them for the money to buy a bike. Even at my age I knew the value of money. <Previous Next>
Top