 What’s the deal with the black & white saddle shoes?  Click here for the story of our farm in Greene County, Iowa. Here's looking at life at Simple Serenity Farm  Carla’s sister & brother-in-law Chris and Tony Woods, of Des Moines, were at the farm on Sunday, August 22, helping Carla do the lawn mowing and other yard work that we’ve struggled to keep up with lately, with all our medical appointments. The Woodses brought along their 18-month-old granddaughter Ari, who was a delight watching all the action from the porch with Chuck, catching up on her reading and then getting a moment on the lawn tractor seat! Click here for larger format Earlier photos in this series Iowa Hall of Pride netINS, Inc. Butler House on Grand B&B Sam's Barber Shop Douglas T. Bates III, Attorney KMA Radio's ''Chuck & Don Show'' Barack Obama story & coloring book The Monks of New Melleray Abbey RELATED LINKS About Offenburger.com Biographies Want to Reprint? Want Updates? ARCHIVES Chuck Offenburger's columns Christie Vilsack's columns Carla Offenburger's columns Carla's book reviews Jared Strong's columns Guest Columns The Simple Serenity Farm columns Farm Photos, 2006 - 2008 Our Iowa News Digest Along Our Way 
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 RAGBRAI is nearing, and here is your tip sheet on what the 10,000 cyclists will wonder about By CHUCK OFFENBURGER July 6, 2009 COOPER, IOWA The following story is shared here, with permission, after first being published in the July edition of the Iowa Farm Bureau’s “Family Living” feature magazine. The author is a columnist with that publication.  Columnist Donald Kaul, then 37, and copy editor John Karras, 43, had come up with the idea of trying to ride their bikes across the state, and they invited readers to join them. About 300 showed up in Sioux City. The newspaper guys couldn’t have been more shocked to see “Mr. Pickard,” as everyone quickly came to call him. He was a small man, maybe 5 ft. 6 in. tall, lightweight and wiry. He had a slight mustache. Nearly everybody turned out for the start of the ride wearing sneakers, gym shorts, or cut-off jeans, and T-shirts. Only a few had the Spandex shorts, colorful jerseys and helmets we know today. Mr. Pickard? He was wearing long, black trousers; a plaid long-sleeved shirt that he kept buttoned at the collar and wrists; high-topped black sneakers, and – what became his trademark – a silver pith helmet! In their first day’s report from the road, Kaul and Karras mentioned that an 83-year-old man in this strange outfit was attempting the ride, too. When that story reached the Register’s readers, most quit wondering whether Kaul, Karras and the other young folks were going to be able to complete each day’s ride. Everybody wanted to know how Mr. Pickard was doing! Adults and children were lining the bike ride’s route through towns, just to get a look at him. They were applauding and cheering as he slowly pedaled through one community after another. In the mid to late afternoons of the second and third days of the ride, the Register’s switchboard went nearly into meltdown with people calling to ask if Mr. Pickard had made it again. The editors, realizing there was a public sensation growing on this bike ride, quickly arranged to have a motel room waiting for Mr. Pickard when the riders reached the Des Moines area. Then the bosses yelled at me – I was a young reporter on the news staff – to find the sudden-star of a cyclist in the crowd. They told me to do as complete an interview as possible in an hour, then write as long a profile story of him as I could for the next morning’s Register. I had a delightful chat with Mr. Pickard, who sipped only water as we talked. He told me Indianola was his home, that he’d been a farmer, teacher and a county ag services agent in his regular career years. In retirement, he and his wife had joined the Peace Corps. He told me he put great value on staying in shape, doing calisthenics every morning, stretching in the evening, walking everywhere he could, and trying always to use the stairs instead of elevators. Why? “You must try to keep yourself in good physical condition,” the old man told me. “You just never know when you’re going to have to run, maybe to head-off a hog, or catch a streetcar.” As for bicycling? Well, he said, he hadn’t done much of it since he was a boy. But he had purchased his 10-speed, green, woman’s Schwinn Varsity bicycle, the night before he was going to Sioux City. He said it took him most of the first couple of days on the road to learn to uses the gears. That first ride was held in the last week of August, and it was insufferably hot in Iowa. Why oh why, I finally asked him, had he chosen such an unusual outfit to wear while riding in the extreme heat? “I see all these young people, riding in shorts and T-shirts, or maybe even without shirts, and they are all getting badly sunburned,” Mr. Pickard said. “With all the outdoor work I’ve done, I learned long ago that it’s better to wear trousers, long sleeves and some kind of hat to protect my skin from the sun.” He paused, leaned toward me, smiled and then said, “And I have a secret weapon, too.” I was scribbling so fast my hand was cramping. “A secret weapon, Mr. Pickard?” I said. “What would that be?” He unbuttoned the top couple of buttons of his shirt, opened it for me to see and said, “I’m wearing wool long underwear under my clothes. As I perspire, it lets the heat escape and cools my skin. It lets me stay out in the sun working all day long, if I have to.” Needless to say, Mr. Pickard’s story was all over page 1 in the next day’s Register, and on the remaining days of the bike ride. Nearly every story that was written or broadcasted about the ride included a Clarence Pickard update. And when he slowly pedaled into a park in Davenport at 7 p.m. on the last day of the ride, a hero’s welcome awaited him. People were impressed that 114 cyclists had ridden all the way across Iowa. But they were really impressed that one of them was 83 years old, riding a women’s bicycle he’d just bought, wearing the oddest sort of cycling outfit. Mr. Pickard’s story was like an invitation, challenge and assurance – all in one – that you didn’t have to be a super-strong highly-trained athlete to ride your bicycle across the state. If you took your time, ate reasonably, drank plenty of fluids and listened to your body, nearly anyone could do it. You know what’s happened. Register officials say that about 275,650 people have ridden at least some part of a RAGBRAI. All 50 states and a dozen or more other nations are represented every year. And the bike ride is one of Iowa’s biggest tourism events. By the way, Kaul is now 73, retired in Ann Arbor, Mich., and no longer rides. Karras, now 79, is retired in Dillon, Colo., and he rides regularly. “My goal is to ride all of RAGBRAI this summer, including the ‘Karras Loop’ (an optional extra route that makes for a 100-mile day), but we’ll have to see,” Karras told me. “I had to sag on day five last year when my legs simply gave out. First time in 33 RAGBRAIs I had to sag. I still don’t have enough training miles for the challenge this year, but we’ll see.” I eventually replaced Kaul as co-host, for 16 RAGBRAIs. I’m now 62, ride my bike frequently and hope to do at least a couple days of this year’s route. Don Benson, the first “wagonmaster” or coordinator of RAGBRAI, is 80, retired in the Des Moines suburb of Clive but is still leading occasional bicycle tours, generally overseas. His successor as wagonmaster, Jim Green, is now 69, retired on Sun Valley Lake in southern Iowa, rides his bike regularly and will probably be on RAGBRAI. Green handed off the ride’s leadership to T.J. Juskiewicz, now 43, who is directing his fifth RAGBRAI. Believe me, all of us still pay homage whenever we hear Clarence Pickard’s name. RAGBRAI’s first star rode parts of the ride for another year or two. Then in 1976, he rode on “Bikecentennial,” making it about halfway across the U.S. before illness sidelined him. In 1982, he died after being struck by a car while walking in Indianola. The next summer’s RAGBRAI was given an additional name, “The Clarence Pickard Memorial Ride,” and more than 25 years later, he’s still a revered figure in RAGBRAI history. You can write the columnist at chuck@Offenburger.com.
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