. . . and it’s truly a labor of, um, love.

by Christy Guzzetta

Once upon a time, “A” rides were fast and furious. Guys (few—if any—women came out for A rides back then) with shaved legs, tight wool shorts, 10-speeds and shoes with cleats nailed to their soles would blast off from Central Park, only a small percentage of whom would ever return. What happened to the rest was anyone's guess. The A-ride philosophy was simple; people who showed up for A rides were adults. If they could keep up, fine. If not, oh well, not our concern. If someone didn't have cleats nailed on just right, he was clearly a nerd. If his frame wasn't Reynolds 531 or Columbus tubing, he was likewise a nerd. If his components weren't Campy Nuovo Record or Campy Super Record, he must be from Nerdsville, U.S.A. If you came out for an A ride, you had two options: keep up or get dropped - A riders didn't care which you chose. A rides were fast and furious. Rarely could the uninitiated stay with the pack. There were probably eight A riders in all of New York City. And if you thought you could be number nine...good luck to you.

It was intimidating, scary, disheartening. The A riders took pride in the difficulty of their rides; long, fast, hard. They enjoyed counting the numbers of those who did not return. After all, you can't just wake up one day and be an A rider. It takes practice, skill, conditioning, know how. Some people would try for a ride or two, get dropped (“Where am I?” “How do I get home?”“Is everyone laughing at me?”), then take up ballroom dancing. Others would become B riders and hold a grudge against the A’s for the rest of their natural-born lives. The A riders were mean, tough, indifferent.

Time passed. Lycra was invented. As was carbon fiber, titanium, 30-speeds. Women started coming out for A rides. Skills improved, training improved. Soon it seemed A riders weren't so scary after all! Why? This is how it happened:

Christy Guzzetta, already an A rider, arguably the fastest bike in all of New York City, was a bachelor back then and trying to score points with that pretty girl riding the chromed Cuevas. Jody Sayler was her name. Poor Jody, the year before she crashed and blew out her knee. She had been on crutches for most of the time since. How would she ever be able to ride on an A ride with that knee? Christy had an idea. (Heeee, heeee, heeee.) “I’ll show you how to be an A rider, Jody. We can ride together,” he said. (Heeee, heeee, heeee.) “We’ll start slow, do a short ride. Next week we'll add a couple of miles, pick up the speed by half a mile an hour. And we’ll do it again the week after that, and the week after that, and the week after that, and the . . . .” (Heeee, heeee, heeee.) What a plan!

So Christy laid out the whole thing—17 rides, starting the first weekend in March. “By July 4, Jody, it’ll be like you never had a knee problem in your life,” he assured her from the vantage point of his unqualified expertise. “And you’ll be riding centuries, and you’ll be riding fast. ”And, he might have added, “you’ll be riding with me, Jody.” (Heeee, heeee, heeee.)

March 1, 1986. A riders are already hammering. Christy is planning to toodle 25 miles with Jody on her first ride since that big crash. But he wonders, will Jody be able to put up with crazy mouse tricks for 17 weeks? Stupid teeth tricks? Dumb jokes? Uh, oh. “I’d better get some people to come along”, he thinks, “I’ll need to give the poor girl a break”. So Christy invites several strong B riders to join them, B riders who always wanted to be A riders but didn't know where to start. He puts a notice in the New York Cycle Club Bulletin. Calls his program the “SIG” (for Special Interest Group). Because “we were indeed special.” And because “we have a special interest”. A group of forty not-A riders showed up that first Saturday in March, 1986. Seventeen weeks later, there were eight new paceline-riding, butt-kicking, hooting-and-hollering A riders. Eight great new friends. And . . . Jody and Christy had fallen in love.

March 1, 2010. Literally hundreds of new A riders have completed the A SIG program over the years. They learned that being an A rider took nothing more than practice, skill, conditioning, and know how. Additionally, thousands of cyclists have completed various other A, B, and C SIG programs that have developed over this time. Each SIG develops the “know how” to better enjoy that particular ride classification. A number of marriages (including Christy and Jody), several divorces and many, many new and great friends have sprung from what started as a scheme to meet a gal back 24 years ago. The A SIG series has been honed into 12 rides. Lots of women now participate, Campy Nuovo Record is long gone, no Reynolds 531, and you couldn't get a nail in the bottom of a pair of cleats with an air hammer. People have graduated from the SIG and become spirited leaders of club rides, enthusiastic officers of The New York Cycle Club. Many uncovered a talent and bug for racing and have become champions at the local CRCA level, on the professional racing circuit, literally around the world. The A-SIG has indeed produced many great riders. Even more exciting than that, it has produced countless great friendships.

A-SIG 2010

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