How A Disaster Shaped My Future In Cycling

A post card depicting the aftermath of the 1968 tornado.

I sometimes get the question what it was that led me to being involved in cycling over the majority of my life. It is a good question, and the answer to it may be a lot different than you might have imagined it to be. 

May 15th, 1968. I was a seven year old elementary student at McKinley School in Charles City Iowa. My family had moved across town just three days prior and everything was new to me. Well, except my school. 

Instead of walking several blocks home, crossing busy Highway 14, and walking past the Southside Grocery store, I was now walking past the Texico station, crossing the Cedar River on a fairly new Brantingham Bridge, and walking along busy highway 18. 

It would be the last time I ever did that walk home from McKinley School. 

That very afternoon, at around 5:00pm, an EF-5 tornado ripped across Charles City, devastating homes, killing 13 people, and injuring hundreds more. Homes and businesses were destroyed. The city was never the same afterward. 

Of all the bad things which came out of this disaster, there were a few, a very few, good things. One of those was in regard to the youth, specifically the young boys, who lived then in Charles City. I was amongst a group of boys who scavenged bicycles which were strewn about the outskirts of town in woods, ditches, and wild areas. 

We would drag these bicycles back to our homes, tear them apart, and attempt to assemble them. Sometimes we'd make cross-bred contraptions bicycle designers had no intention for out of these free parts. 

Choppers were a big deal in the late 60's and early 70's, so we'd often make chopper bicycles out of the ones we'd dredge up from the flotsam and jetsam resulting from the tornado. It was part adventure, part mad scientist stuff which engaged us for days upon days. 

Over the Summers of 1968 through to around 1970 or 71, this scrapping of bicycles was going on. Of course, it eventually all went away, but the skills I gained in tire removal/installation, chain repair, and general knowledge of how a bicycle worked were all formed in those days of experimentation. 

I was able to maintain my single speed, coaster brake 20"er myself for the most part. My Dad had to step in a few times when I would break a rear axle doing jumps, but otherwise I was on my own for taking care of flats, new tires, and oiling the chain. 

And of course, a love of cycling and for bicyles in general was kindled then. It was the vehicle which took me around the city to witness the destruction of the "Charles City Tornado". Then other adventures came along. Eventually I outgrew the 20"er and was gifted a single speed Huffy lightweight coaster brake 26" x 1 3/8th" wheeled bike which I promptly tore the fenders off of and used as my city commuter and single track bike in the late 70's. 

McKinley School grounds, Brantingham Bridge

Of course, I left cycling for other worldly pursuits in my 20's, but it never went away completely. By the time I was in my late 20's I had purchased a mountain bike, started riding single track, and by 1993 circumstances led me to becoming a bicycle mechanic. 

Since then cycling has been pretty much at the forefront of my life. All due, in part, to a wicked, unfortunate natural disaster in the late 1960's. 

The anniversary date for the Charles City Tornado is tomorrow, May 15th. I will quietly mark the day. I will recall the scenes I saw with my own eyes and the screaming sirens I heard all night long that night in 1968 will replay in my mind again. I know most of you will have an ordinary day, but you all probably have a memory like this as well, so I am willing to bet some of you readers understand where I am coming from. 

So, if you've ever wondered what my start in cycling was, now you know.  

The 50th Anniversary Of The Charles City Tornado

An aerial view of Charles City, looking North, after the F-5 tornado on May 15th, 1968

There are certain days that you will never forget. A special birthday, a wedding, a birth of a child, a job promotion, a bicycle ride, or what have you.

One of my "burned into memory" days is May 15th, 1968. I was a first grade student at McKinley Elementary school, living in a different house, having just moved across town, and the child of a stay at home mom and a father who worked at the Oliver Farm Equipment factory. My sister, who was four, was at home with my Mom, not old enough to attend school yet.

May 15th was a hot day. I remember walking home from school the new way. Only the third time I'd done it, since we had moved the weekend before. The walk took me by the local towing service, Leon & Gene's Texaco, where smashed cars from accidents would sit in a row behind the station. I stopped and examined the latest fender benders. Then I walked across the fairly new Brantingham Bridge, the newer elderly housing projects were just to the west on the South side of the river. The road over the Cedar was Highway 18, and it was a very busy street. My new home was on this highway just a few blocks North of the Cedar River on 4th and B Street's corner. I remember staring over the bridge railing looking at the running waters of the Cedar River, and I was thinking it was humid and pretty hot that day. I was looking forward to watching the cartoons on the T.V when I got home.

From near the Floyd County Fairgrounds about six miles West of Charles City

You see, we had no video, computer, or other media distractions then. Just two grainy T.V. stations and afternoon cartoon shows which were sandwiched in between the afternoon soap operas and the evening news. My show was called "Bart's Clubhouse" on KGLO, a station out of Mason City. The host, Bart Curran, was the station's meteorologist.

During the show, Bart broke in and told the viewers that there was a bad storm on the way and it was going along a line marked by a ruler he was holding on an Iowa map. The ruler went directly through Charles City. Of course, being seven years old, I was sent into a tizzy by this information and was running around trying to get my parents to "do something", but all they did was brush me off. Meanwhile it got darker and darker and it started in raining.

Along about the time we were supposed to sit down to the evening meal, it was dark as night, hailing, and then the lights went out. Having never been in our new house's basement, my Dad picked me up and, just before ducking into the dank blackness, I turned to see a huge three story high basswood tree fall on the highway. A few minutes later the world I knew was turned inside out.

After the tornado I couldn't wander around due to all the debris everywhere in the town.

The city was forever changed. I didn't know the city well then, so for me, it was just a bummer since all this cool stuff was going on all Summer and I was limited to the house. But in reality 13 people lost their lives, many hundreds were injured, and millions of dollars of property were damaged. The city was wrecked and it needed a lot of help.

Later on I grew to understand the gravity of what had happened. In 2008, when a neighboring town called Parkersburg suffered an F-5 tornado, I was able to be a volunteer and help those victims clean up. It was the least I could do after having benefited from similar aid in 1968, despite my being unaware of it

Today marks 50 years since that day I won't forget. I'll be especially mindful of that day long ago on this anniversary.

For a more in depth look at what it was like that day and shortly afterward, the "Mason City Globe Gazette" ran this story Sunday about the anniversary of the Charles City Tornado.

The 50th Anniversary Of The Charles City Tornado

An aerial view of Charles City, looking North, after the F-5 tornado on May 15th, 1968

There are certain days that you will never forget. A special birthday, a wedding, a birth of a child, a job promotion, a bicycle ride, or what have you.

One of my "burned into memory" days is May 15th, 1968. I was a first grade student at McKinley Elementary school, living in a different house, having just moved across town, and the child of a stay at home mom and a father who worked at the Oliver Farm Equipment factory. My sister, who was four, was at home with my Mom, not old enough to attend school yet.

May 15th was a hot day. I remember walking home from school the new way. Only the third time I'd done it, since we had moved the weekend before. The walk took me by the local towing service, Leon & Gene's Texaco, where smashed cars from accidents would sit in a row behind the station. I stopped and examined the latest fender benders. Then I walked across the fairly new Brantingham Bridge, the newer elderly housing projects were just to the west on the South side of the river. The road over the Cedar was Highway 18, and it was a very busy street. My new home was on this highway just a few blocks North of the Cedar River on 4th and B Street's corner. I remember staring over the bridge railing looking at the running waters of the Cedar River, and I was thinking it was humid and pretty hot that day. I was looking forward to watching the cartoons on the T.V when I got home.

From near the Floyd County Fairgrounds about six miles West of Charles City

You see, we had no video, computer, or other media distractions then. Just two grainy T.V. stations and afternoon cartoon shows which were sandwiched in between the afternoon soap operas and the evening news. My show was called "Bart's Clubhouse" on KGLO, a station out of Mason City. The host, Bart Curran, was the station's meteorologist.

During the show, Bart broke in and told the viewers that there was a bad storm on the way and it was going along a line marked by a ruler he was holding on an Iowa map. The ruler went directly through Charles City. Of course, being seven years old, I was sent into a tizzy by this information and was running around trying to get my parents to "do something", but all they did was brush me off. Meanwhile it got darker and darker and it started in raining.

Along about the time we were supposed to sit down to the evening meal, it was dark as night, hailing, and then the lights went out. Having never been in our new house's basement, my Dad picked me up and, just before ducking into the dank blackness, I turned to see a huge three story high basswood tree fall on the highway. A few minutes later the world I knew was turned inside out.

After the tornado I couldn't wander around due to all the debris everywhere in the town.

The city was forever changed. I didn't know the city well then, so for me, it was just a bummer since all this cool stuff was going on all Summer and I was limited to the house. But in reality 13 people lost their lives, many hundreds were injured, and millions of dollars of property were damaged. The city was wrecked and it needed a lot of help.

Later on I grew to understand the gravity of what had happened. In 2008, when a neighboring town called Parkersburg suffered an F-5 tornado, I was able to be a volunteer and help those victims clean up. It was the least I could do after having benefited from similar aid in 1968, despite my being unaware of it

Today marks 50 years since that day I won't forget. I'll be especially mindful of that day long ago on this anniversary.

For a more in depth look at what it was like that day and shortly afterward, the "Mason City Globe Gazette" ran this story Sunday about the anniversary of the Charles City Tornado.

A Remembrance

The wreckage of an old car near an old school after the tornado of '68

A Special Post. 

 47 years ago I was just a lad of seven and in the first grade of school attending McKinley Elementary School in Charles City, Iowa, where I grew up. It was on May 15th, 1968 that I attended that school for the last time. Not because I graduated, or because it was the end of the year, but because the school, and the entire city, was struck by a powerful F5 tornado that day.

As you might imagine, there were deaths. 13 people lost their lives that day in that tornado. It lasted a matter of only a few minutes, but in the blink of an eye, my entire world, and that of the rest of the nearly 10,000 residents of the city, were forever changed. It's something that burns into your memory so deeply, that to this day I can vividly recall details of May 15th, 1968 in my mind.

Certainly, we weren't the only people to be affected by tornadoes, or tragedies, but for me, every May 15th, I pause and remember. Some years it hits me harder than others. I guess I felt compelled to share for some reason. It also reminds me of the resiliency of the human spirit. Towns like Charles City rebuild, survive, and even thrive.

So, a special post today to mark the 47th anniversary of that horrific day, and the beginning of a remarkable display of the human spirit.

A Remembrance

The wreckage of an old car near an old school after the tornado of '68

A Special Post. 

 47 years ago I was just a lad of seven and in the first grade of school attending McKinley Elementary School in Charles City, Iowa, where I grew up. It was on May 15th, 1968 that I attended that school for the last time. Not because I graduated, or because it was the end of the year, but because the school, and the entire city, was struck by a powerful F5 tornado that day.

As you might imagine, there were deaths. 13 people lost their lives that day in that tornado. It lasted a matter of only a few minutes, but in the blink of an eye, my entire world, and that of the rest of the nearly 10,000 residents of the city, were forever changed. It's something that burns into your memory so deeply, that to this day I can vividly recall details of May 15th, 1968 in my mind.

Certainly, we weren't the only people to be affected by tornadoes, or tragedies, but for me, every May 15th, I pause and remember. Some years it hits me harder than others. I guess I felt compelled to share for some reason. It also reminds me of the resiliency of the human spirit. Towns like Charles City rebuild, survive, and even thrive.

So, a special post today to mark the 47th anniversary of that horrific day, and the beginning of a remarkable display of the human spirit.