The date was Friday, July 13, 2007. Yes, Friday the 13th. What started as a normal happy hour at the Smiling Moose quickly turned into a ridiculous dick measuring contest. Joe “Papa Joe” Heckman, infamous retired Triangle Bike messenger was being encouraged by Pete, the door man, to show that he still had the skill/speed to beat any of the messengers currently working in a race across town. Of course, I am not a bike messenger and never have been. That being said, I’m not really sure how i got involved in the whole thing, but there I was signing a written contract to race Joe.The race: from the Smiling Moose to the N. Craig St. Beer distributor, buy a 30 pack of Pabst, and return to the Moose. The catch: doing this on original Triangle basket bikes. If you’ve never seen one of these bikes, they are certainly something to behold. Weighing in at a modest 45lbs, they are basically single speed steel mtn bikes with a coaster break and a large basket on the front. Not exactly ‘race-ready’ machines, but are brilliant for carrying large loads while messengering. The bet: the first person to return to the Moose with their 30 pack wins. If I win, Joe will pay me $300. (Pretty strong incentive to enter a race!) If Joes wins, he will shave my head bald on the stage of the Moose.So, Friday August 3 rolls around and is, so far, the hottest day of the year. 90° plus, and 70% humidity at 6:00pm. There was quite a crowd gathering to witness the race. As those of us who live here know, word travels fast in PGH. There was also numurous side bets being made, mostly against me. Why you may ask?Well, Joe Heckman (40-something, around 220lbs?) worked for the Triangle Messenger Company in the 80’s possibly into the early 90’s and was known for having big money days rather frequently. A few of his former collegues (one still a messenger today, the other, the door man who started this whole thing) both had their money on Joe. They had ridden with him during his employment at TMC and could confirm that he was in fact a good rider. I believed this to be true, but their recolections were also from 10 years past.I personally had absolutely no idea what to make of Joe. Never seen him ride a bike, and he definitely looks like he could use a little more exercise. I did however know one thing: Joe had ridden these basket bikes for years, myself, never been on one in my life. Under normal circumstances, a bike is a bike is a bike, and a heavy, single speed, coaster brake bike is just that, another bike. When you factor in temp, rush hour traffic, a case of beer, and a 6mile race it qualifies as NOT a normal circumstance. All of this made me a little nervous. Fitness level aside, there were a lot of variables such as traffic lights, rush hour, a bridge under construction, an uphill bus lane, college students, the mercy of the beer distributor employee, flat tires, catastrophic component failure to name a few, so I was in no way ensured a victory.The race started on 13th st. around the corner from the bar. We had to start on 13th but could take any path from there to the Birmingham Bridge. As we turned left onto Sarah St. i quickly learned that baskets make a bike turn very strangely, and that coaster brakes lock up and skid quicker than a hipster in short-shorts. The city recently installed a 3-way stop sign on the corner of Sarah and 14th St. and it was congested from two of the three sides. A car had stopped and proceeded to pull out from the left. Joe was on the left side of the road and was able to go behind the car, I wasn’t as lucky. I locked up the rear wheel and nearly slammed into the front quarter panel of the car. This allowed Joe to gain almost two blocks on me as we got to 17th st. I had to hussle to catch back up to him because i knew that getting to the bridge first was going to play a large role in determining the winner of the race. The race was very close through the flats as we snaked through various streets and alleys on our way down to the bridge. We both turned right onto Carson St. from 22nd where the entire intersection was clogged up. Wrecklessly charting a course through the narrow gaps between cars I was able to turn left onto the bridge in front of an ambulance that was merging onto the bridge from the other direction. Because the bridge is under construction there is no shoulder. I was able to take the lane all the way across the bridge without interference from the ambulance behind me.The gearing on the bikes was a nice smallish gear—maybe42/18?—that was actually great for city spinning. I turned onto 5th ave and started to climb up the bus lane at a nice steady pace. I was fortunate enough to avoid an encounter with a bus all the way up the hill. I looked back when i got to a bend near the top and didn’t see anybody behind me. I kept spinning up 5th in the bus lane all the way to Craig St. I turned left onto Craig and gave another look behind me, nothing. I was pretty sure i had it won at this point, but wasn’t about to slow down.When I got the the distributor there was a woman in line talking with the beer guy. I ran up like a maniac yelling about racing and demanding a 30 pack of Pabst, FAST! After a very confused look from the woman in line, the beer guy complied with my ranting. He proceed to walk, ever so casually, somewhere back in the cooler. After what seemed like an eternity he returned with the case. He said something about $13.something and I threw him a $20 and told him to keep it. I dropped the beer into the basket and took off back down Craig St. Joe was coming up the hill as i was leaving, he wasn’t too far behind. Riding with him was Dave L. and Dave B. They had left with us as race wardens from the moose but I hadn’t seen them until now. They later told me that they were behind Joe for a while and were encouraging him up the hill. Dave L. turned around and started following me back to the bar as Dave B. went with Joe to the distributor. As I rode down the hill I started hitting a few small bumps in the road. The beer wasn’t cooperating in the basket. At one point the beer practically lept out of the basket bouncing up to eye level. I stopped at a light and recalled that the basket had bungie cords on it. I strapped down the beer tight and kept on riding. Turning back onto 5th Ave Dave called back to the folks at the bar to let them know of the progress being made. I chatted a bit with Dave on the way back, but still was not slowing down. I made it back to the Moose without incident where there was a large crowd of people gathered to see the finish. Cheering and groaning ensued as I rolled up, and I was happy be done. I got the bike up on the curb, chugged some water and tried not to puke!Dave B. was still with Joe, they had just turned onto Carson St. as I finished. Joe showed up a few minutes later and we all applauded his valient effort. Joe and I both knew how stupid that whole thing had just been and enjoyed a gentlemanly hand shake. Pete had been holding the prize money and handed it over. We took a couple of pictures and went in for beers. So, I had defended the hair, and made a pretty good days pay for half an hours worth or work. Would I do all this over again? Hell no.Experience teaches wisdom.