FRED'S BICYCLE ACCIDENT: ~THE STORY~----related-pages---site navigation
INTRODUCTION
This is the story of Fred's bicycle accident.
Given the sort of person that Fred was, it seems likely that this was not Fred's only bicycle accident. It was surely one of many. But this is the bicycle accident that Fred still remembered half a century later, and that he told his daughter about. All of his other bicycle accidents have been lost to history.
Given the sort of person that Fred was, it seems likely that this was not Fred's only bicycle accident. It was surely one of many. But this is the bicycle accident that Fred still remembered half a century later, and that he told his daughter about. All of his other bicycle accidents have been lost to history.
THE ACCIDENT: 1897
One thing that made the accident memorable was that it was part of an epic bicycle trip, from Fred's home with his parents in Canton, Ohio, across New York, to eastern New York, to visit his older brother Will, a cadet at West Point. It made the local paper, and the family kept a clipping of the four-sentence article. You can see it here:
1897-07-27 NEWSPAPER ARTICLE ABOUT FRED'S BIKE TRIP
Fred's bicycle - which in those days was called a "wheel" - was nothing fancy. It was two wheels and two pedals. No brakes. If you wanted your wheel to stop, you put your foot on the ground, or maybe on the front tire. It wasn't, however, one of the very old-fashioned bikes where the front wheel was huge and the real wheel was tiny. It probably bore a general resemblance to the bikes of today.
The roads were nothing fancy, either. Henry Ford had built his first car in 1896, only one year before. Fred's route took him through New York, whereas a straighter route would have gone through Pennnsylvania. But that straighter route probably did not exist. As it is, I don't even know how much of Fred's route went over paved roads. Imagine him pedalling away, on a bike with minimal (if any) shock absorbers, bouncing over dirt roads.
Fred was one month short of his eighteenth birthday. What did his parents think of their teenaged son going off on such a hare-brained adventure? We don't know. I imagine his father was all for it, while his mother fretted every minute of every day until Fred finally arrived home. But I don't know. Whatever they thought, they did not forbid him from making the trip.
And so he set out.
I do not know when exactly Fred's route took him through the little town of Camillus, in Western New York. He figured he would just ride on through it - one of the many little towns that he rode through, since the Interstate Highway System wasn't even a gleam in seven-year-old Dwight David Eisenhower's eye yet. But Camillus, as it turned out, was different.
Here's a screenshot of Camillus from Google maps. I've added a route from Nightshade Inn & Gardens in the west to the Camillus Fire Department in the east to show what I believe Fred's route to have been. I assume that the section of Route 5 involving the loop has been added since 1897.
1897-07-27 NEWSPAPER ARTICLE ABOUT FRED'S BIKE TRIP
Fred's bicycle - which in those days was called a "wheel" - was nothing fancy. It was two wheels and two pedals. No brakes. If you wanted your wheel to stop, you put your foot on the ground, or maybe on the front tire. It wasn't, however, one of the very old-fashioned bikes where the front wheel was huge and the real wheel was tiny. It probably bore a general resemblance to the bikes of today.
The roads were nothing fancy, either. Henry Ford had built his first car in 1896, only one year before. Fred's route took him through New York, whereas a straighter route would have gone through Pennnsylvania. But that straighter route probably did not exist. As it is, I don't even know how much of Fred's route went over paved roads. Imagine him pedalling away, on a bike with minimal (if any) shock absorbers, bouncing over dirt roads.
Fred was one month short of his eighteenth birthday. What did his parents think of their teenaged son going off on such a hare-brained adventure? We don't know. I imagine his father was all for it, while his mother fretted every minute of every day until Fred finally arrived home. But I don't know. Whatever they thought, they did not forbid him from making the trip.
And so he set out.
I do not know when exactly Fred's route took him through the little town of Camillus, in Western New York. He figured he would just ride on through it - one of the many little towns that he rode through, since the Interstate Highway System wasn't even a gleam in seven-year-old Dwight David Eisenhower's eye yet. But Camillus, as it turned out, was different.
Here's a screenshot of Camillus from Google maps. I've added a route from Nightshade Inn & Gardens in the west to the Camillus Fire Department in the east to show what I believe Fred's route to have been. I assume that the section of Route 5 involving the loop has been added since 1897.
I imagine that Fred used a guide book for his trip, like the one mentioned here:
1899-04-21 NEWSPAPER ITEM MENTIONING FRED
I figure there were instructions like "Turn left at the tavern, turn right at the church," with no mention of hills, slopes, or inclines. So Fred might not have expected the hill that he found himself riding down after coming around the leftward arc that is at the bottom of the map, where you can see Camillus HIlls Golden Pet. Down he rode. Around the point where Route 174 splits off today (before where Kiki's Authentic Greek Food is), the road got even steeper, as it became the main street of Camillus. Fred put his foot on his front wheel. Gently, I imagine.
And then he saw that the road was about to make a 90-degree turn to the left, where the Sunoco gas station is today. The Google map shows an option of going straight at that point. Did the straight route exist in 1897? Or was it too rough for a bike? I don't know. All I know is, Fred wanted to turn left. And his foot was on the front wheel. Surprise! His foot got caught in the wheel, and over he went - down into the gully for an inconveniently located brook.
Fred apparently didn't suffer any notable injuries in the accident. The bicycle was another matter. He found somebody to repair the mangled front wheel, and he explained what had happened. The repairman told him that somebody else had done the exact same thing the previous week - and the previous week's bicycle rider had been killed.
Fred later became a medical missionary to Africa. I wonder if he had any feeling about this accident of "God saved me for something special." Fred strikes me as anything but self-important - but he did remember that accident.
50 years later, as he drove his young daughter, AG, from Massachusetts across New York to Ontario to see her maternal grandparents, he stopped in Camillus to show her where he had his accident. More than 50 years after that, she told me about it.
1899-04-21 NEWSPAPER ITEM MENTIONING FRED
I figure there were instructions like "Turn left at the tavern, turn right at the church," with no mention of hills, slopes, or inclines. So Fred might not have expected the hill that he found himself riding down after coming around the leftward arc that is at the bottom of the map, where you can see Camillus HIlls Golden Pet. Down he rode. Around the point where Route 174 splits off today (before where Kiki's Authentic Greek Food is), the road got even steeper, as it became the main street of Camillus. Fred put his foot on his front wheel. Gently, I imagine.
And then he saw that the road was about to make a 90-degree turn to the left, where the Sunoco gas station is today. The Google map shows an option of going straight at that point. Did the straight route exist in 1897? Or was it too rough for a bike? I don't know. All I know is, Fred wanted to turn left. And his foot was on the front wheel. Surprise! His foot got caught in the wheel, and over he went - down into the gully for an inconveniently located brook.
Fred apparently didn't suffer any notable injuries in the accident. The bicycle was another matter. He found somebody to repair the mangled front wheel, and he explained what had happened. The repairman told him that somebody else had done the exact same thing the previous week - and the previous week's bicycle rider had been killed.
Fred later became a medical missionary to Africa. I wonder if he had any feeling about this accident of "God saved me for something special." Fred strikes me as anything but self-important - but he did remember that accident.
50 years later, as he drove his young daughter, AG, from Massachusetts across New York to Ontario to see her maternal grandparents, he stopped in Camillus to show her where he had his accident. More than 50 years after that, she told me about it.
VISITING THE SITE: 2024
On Monday, April 8, 2024, there was a solar eclipse. I wanted to see it, and prime viewing for the eclipse included the area around Utica, New York, not too far from Camillus. Therefore, on Sunday, April 7, I left my home in Massachusetts, drove past Utica, and went to Camillus to see the site of Fred's bicycle accident.
I thought it would be a simple matter, but the place didn't look the way I expected. I had the impression that the tumble happened outside of the town, and I wondered if the turn that caused Fred's tumble was Route 174. Route 174 would be a right-hand turn, not the left-hand turn that AG talked about, but - what else could it be? I was tired from my five-hour drive from Massachusetts, so I took a few pictures and then departed, going to the Utica hotel where I had a reservation.
The next day I had an excellent time viewing the eclipse from Westcott Beach State Park in Henderson, New York, with family and friends.
The day after that - Tuesday - I went back to Camillus, not expecting much, but when was I going to be so near it again? I looked at Route 174 again. And then, from the lot where I was parked, I called AG. She was clear that it was definitely a left-hand turn that had caused the tumble. And she emphasized the bridge. She had mentioned the bridge before, but I hadn't figured that out. As it happened, however, I was standing in a parking lot right next to the little creek that goes through town. (You can see the blue lines for the creek on the map screenshot.) And looking around, I said to AG on the phone: "Oh! I see a bridge!" It was nowhere near where I had been looking, because it was in the middle of the town, and furthermore, if you're on the road you barely notice it. I daresay it was more obtrusive back in Uncle Fred's day.
So I headed towards the bridge, and found the lefthand turn that I was looking for. It's harder to fall down to the brook these days, because there are sturdy guard rails to keep that from happening.
I took photographs, of course, but I'm no photographer. If somebody wants to go and take better pictures and send them to me, that would be nice. As a bonus, there's a nature walk that I didn't try.
I thought it would be a simple matter, but the place didn't look the way I expected. I had the impression that the tumble happened outside of the town, and I wondered if the turn that caused Fred's tumble was Route 174. Route 174 would be a right-hand turn, not the left-hand turn that AG talked about, but - what else could it be? I was tired from my five-hour drive from Massachusetts, so I took a few pictures and then departed, going to the Utica hotel where I had a reservation.
The next day I had an excellent time viewing the eclipse from Westcott Beach State Park in Henderson, New York, with family and friends.
The day after that - Tuesday - I went back to Camillus, not expecting much, but when was I going to be so near it again? I looked at Route 174 again. And then, from the lot where I was parked, I called AG. She was clear that it was definitely a left-hand turn that had caused the tumble. And she emphasized the bridge. She had mentioned the bridge before, but I hadn't figured that out. As it happened, however, I was standing in a parking lot right next to the little creek that goes through town. (You can see the blue lines for the creek on the map screenshot.) And looking around, I said to AG on the phone: "Oh! I see a bridge!" It was nowhere near where I had been looking, because it was in the middle of the town, and furthermore, if you're on the road you barely notice it. I daresay it was more obtrusive back in Uncle Fred's day.
So I headed towards the bridge, and found the lefthand turn that I was looking for. It's harder to fall down to the brook these days, because there are sturdy guard rails to keep that from happening.
I took photographs, of course, but I'm no photographer. If somebody wants to go and take better pictures and send them to me, that would be nice. As a bonus, there's a nature walk that I didn't try.
PICTURES OF THE SITE: 2024
Here's the road that Fred rode down. You can see how far down the town of Camillus is. You can also see Route 174 joining the road to the right, and how the road becomes steeper after the intersection with Route 174.
Here's a closer look at how the road becomes steeper.
The bridge - barely visible - and the lefthand turn, at the Sunoco station. I was basically only taking a picture of the bridge that AG talked about, when the sign with the leftward-pointing right angle in the foreground of the picture just about smacked me in the face and said, "This is it, you idiot!"
Looking at the bridge from the parking lot from which I called AG.
Here's the sign in the parking lot for the bonus nature walk:
FRED'S BICYCLE ACCIDENT: the story---~RELATED PAGES~---site navigation
RELATED DOCUMENTS/PAGES:
FRED'S BICYCLE ACCIDENT: the story---related pages---~SITE NAVIGATION~
WHERE AM I?
WHAT ARE THE PREVIOUS PAGE AND THE NEXT PAGE?