Scott Martin

I don't often get phone calls asking me to save the planet, but just such a plea comes last week.

It's the Santa Cruz, CA, Bike-to-Work Week coordinator. He needs a cyclist for tomorrow's BTWW commuter race. Will I do it ?

The commuter race pits a cyclist against a car and other transportation modes during rush hour. The goal : Show that bike commuting is a viable alternative. In the first 2 years of this race, the cyclist is undefeated.

Gulp. "Uh, okay," I reply.

If I lose, America's streets will be clogged with cars, our throats will choke on smog and we'll be chained to risky foreign oil sources.

Oh, wait -- that's already happened.

Still, I don't want to get beaten. My opponents on the 7-mile trip will be a BMW sedan, an electric bike, a tandem and a couple of unicycles.

Unicycles ?

Like Lance, I figure my fiercest rival is the horsepower-laden German competitor. My Alpe d'Huez : a flat bike path that bypasses 8 traffic lights in the final 2 miles.

"Go!" shouts the starter. I sprint into the lead. Soon I'm out of town and alone. The Beemer's on the highway, but where are the others ?

Three miles later, the tandem flashes through an intersection I'm approaching. So much for last evening's route-scouting expedition. I catch the big bike at the next stop sign and unleash my deadliest cycling skill : shameless wheelsucking.

We're hammering down the bike path, heading for home. I slingshot out of the tandem's draft and sprint to the finish. The crowd of 6 people goes nuts.

"Well done !" cries a BTWW volunteer. "Um, the car got here three minutes ago."

Next time I get a planet-rescuing phone call, I'm letting it go to voicemail.

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