I did an 11 mile downhill run on Mt Ranier when I was young and stupid. Pushed off from Paradise Inn and didn’t turn the crank once all the way to Longmkre, WA. No helmet. A French “Bertin” bike that was no great shakes. Couple of motorcyclists came up beside me and one of them taps his speedometer and says “You’re doing 45.” The folly of youth. On the return climb, I remember somebody poking their head out of a van and snapping my pic. You didn’t see many mountain bicyclists in those days.
Back in the late 1950s, when I was around 9 years-old, I had an air speed type speedometer mounted on my handle bars and went down a steep hill on my typical 1950s style bicycle. I got up to almost 50 mph according to the speedometer and finally slowed down at the bottom of the hill. Amazing that I survived as the brakes barely worked.
cool.
I raced bikes.
I trained in Prescott for the oxygen deprivation and mountain climbs.
Hit 58 mph between switchbacks.
Brake and speed induced oscillation were the limiting factors.
The guard rails would not have prevented death in case of a mishap.
The edge.
Flew hang gliders for 10 years in SoCal.
From Bay City Michigan - weird huh?
I get that story!
There was a 9% 1.25 mile hill call “big susie’.
During the 70s, a couple of friends and I road out to it 6 miles away. My friend was on a 10 speed, I was on a Schwinn Stingray.
We started down the hill in shorts, tank tops and no protection whatsoever.
I buried my chin on the block connecting my fork to the handlebars.
My friend on the ten speed lifted his chest and the front wheel came off the ground, he recovered.
What a rush.
Same as you.
“Couple of motorcyclists came up beside me and one of them taps his speedometer and says “You’re doing 45.””