A Benediction for Bennie

Only a few people know this, but without Bennie there would never have been a Stoker.

In 2005 Bennie had a tandem he wasn’t using, and he suggested I give it a try with Diane. We did, and after some very tense and uncertain early rides we found a new shared activity that became a big part of our lives. Diane became ‘Stoker’, a term I use with great respect and affection for my pedaling partner.

Bennie was so, so encouraging to Diane and helpful to me. When he was on a ride with us he would pedal ahead at intersections and tell me if it was clear so I wouldn’t have to unclip and stop, which is not so easy on a tandem. He really kept an eye on us and his presence gave me a much needed dose of confidence as an inexperienced tandem pilot.

I think I’ve ridden more miles with Bennie than anyone else. Starting around 2002 when he first started riding with the Stockton Bike Club. We did club rides together. We went to an Athletic Camps training camp together. Occasionally we would do intervals together. He worked as a guide for Cycling Escapes, and I was a client on tours all over the western United States. That’s 24 years of cycling and at least 70,000 miles, probably more.

His nickname was ‘Lonerider’. No one wanted to do the kind of long rides that he did, day after day. Consequently he spent lots of time pedaling alone. He would often ride to the start of a 40 mile club ride in Ione or Wallace, do the ride, then pedal home. Another century in the books. One year he did over 130 centuries. But to me his most impressive year was when he managed to climb 1,230,000 vertical feet. You could ride up Mount Diablo every single day for an entire year, and you still would be short of that total.

Bennie was a talented magician. At coffee stops he would bring out a deck of cards, and put on a show. He was really good with cards and coins and straws. But Steve Fentress and I witnessed what had to be the best trick ever. We were sitting at Donkey J’s in Lockeford having lunch after a ride. Actually it was after the ride for Steve and me, since Bennie wasn’t content with our 50 something miles and was going to ride back to Lodi.

Bennie took a salt shaker and wrapped a napkin around it. On the table, right in front of us. He arranged the napkin so that it covered the salt shaker and then removed his hands. He may have waved them around or chanted some incantation or cracked a joke. I don’t remember.

What I do remember is that suddenly he raised his hand and smashed it down onto the napkin. There was a loud thump. The napkin was squashed flat on the table top and the salt shaker was nowhere to be found. Steve and I were stunned, and then incredulous. That salt shaker HAD to be there, but it wasn’t.

Now, like the salt shaker, Bennie has vanished. And, like that magic trick, I’ll never forget him. If there is a heaven and we both wind up there, I’m going to ask about that salt shaker. Then we’ll go for a ride.