President's Letter

The Highlands Pedalers
Dave Wucher
3541 Gleneagles Drive
Avon Park FL 33825
Tel: 863-386-0052
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By KEVIN J. SHUTT - News-Sun

SEBRING - The Sebring Ride of Silence - one of many held throughout Florida, across the United States and in six countries - was a quiet success. About 15 people, mostly members of the Highlands Pedalers, arrived at the Sebring Civic Center for the informal 10-mile ride around Lake Jackson to memorialize fallen cyclists and raise awareness among motorists that public roadways are to be shared.
"Aren't there any ladies?" asked Doris McGill, of Sebring, as she approached the spandex and Lycra-clad cyclists on their high-dollar carbon-this-and-that bicycles.
Wearing a straw bonnet, floral print blouse, slacks and sandals, McGill provided a stark contrast to the rest of the group.
She needed help retrieving her vintage fold-away bike from the back seat of her compact car, into which she wrestled the unfolded bike by herself.
"I'm recently widowed," McGill said, explaining that she learned of the ride from a News-Sun article. "I needed to get out of the house."
The Ride of Silence was atypical for the club riders - the maximum speed was 12 mph and no talking was allowed, adding a solemn touch.
It began in 2003 when a Dallas, Texas, man orchestrated a ride to honor a friend who had died while riding, struck by a bus' mirror.
The ride began at 7 p.m., the standard time for Rides of Silence across the country, but was slow going as the group maintained McGill's 5-1/2 mph pace. "I've been meaning to do that with somebody," the 74-year-old rider said, explaining that she wanted to complete a lap around Lake Jackson. "And your article said that it would wait for the slowest person. That would be me. I like to ride a cycle better than walking."
However, at McGill's pace there was concern that the group - which rode on the street as much as safety would permit - wouldn't complete the trip around the lake before sunset.
Having ridden 2-1/2 miles, McGill turned around on the U.S. 27 North sidewalk across the highway from the News-Sun office. Laura Maibauer, a registered and licensed dietitian with Highlands Regional Medical Center, rode back with McGill.
"They were pretty nice," McGill said, dismissing any notion that she might have been "intimidated" by the fancy clothes and fast bikes of the other riders. "One guy even said, 'I spent all this money on my bike and I didn't even get a bell.'"
At his request, McGill toggled the rusty lever on her bell emitting a metallic ring that elicited smiles and laughter from the carbon-fiber guys.
"She was on a mission to finish that ride and make it back without help," Maibauer said. "I really do think she is the true champ in this deal."
The women chit-chatted on the return trip, discussing the "beautiful flowers and such" that they encountered.
"I was surprised to see my next door neighbor," McGill said, referring to Maibauer. "She plays ball with her dog in the yard when she gets home." Neither was aware that the other shared an interest in riding bicycles. "Laura was nice," McGill said.
Having dropped her neighbor off at the Sebring Civic Center, Maibauer continued counter-clockwise along Lakeview Drive, until she encountered the original group, joining them for what little remained of the ride.
As the riders hung out in the parking lot, impressed by McGill's effort and accomplishment, she drove up from the beach, waving out her window as she drove home.
She did some yard work before retiring for the evening, McGill said, explaining that though she made have been slower than the rest, she's no less capable. She and her husband used to ride together but it's been years since she last rode five miles in one shot, not since her children were young.
Woody McGill died just shy of their 57th wedding anniversary and before their son graduates from high school in a few weeks.
Terrill Morris, of Morris Funeral Chapel and a past-president of the Highlands Pedalers, invited McGill to attend the club's meeting at 7 p.m. on the first Thursday every month at the Kenilworth Lodge.
Morris also handled the memorial service for her husband Woodrow "Woody" McGill, who died in March.
While difficult to gauge what effect, if any, the ride had on the community, it was obvious that the silent riders were seen.
Most motorists gave the large pack ample breathing room when passing and cheers out-numbered jeers by those who felt it necessary to honk, wave, flash their high-beams, or yell.