The Day the Donut Ride Got Busted
by Jim Foreman

Little did I suspect when Fred Kamp asked if I would lead the Donut Ride the next Saturday, I would be in jeopardy of ending up eating a stale donut in the city jail instead of enjoying a pecan sticky at Brown's Bakery. In retrospect, I really think Fred had a premonition of what was about to happen and suckered me into taking the fall.

The day started out in the usual manner with perhaps thirty eager donut riders gathered in a ragged circle at the park. After they recited their
names and got their instructions: stay behind the fastest rider and regroup in the shade of a big tree just after crossing the bridge on 19th Street, the ride was under way.

I assumed the position of leader by staying with the slowest riders as we made our way along the frontage road, dodging drivers bailing off the I-44 exit like Mario Andretti coming into the pits at Indy and past the Hibdon tire store. I could see the riders ahead as they made the turn onto 19th street and crossed over the bridge.

As I came rolling up behind them, I noticed two police cars parked where we usually waited for the slower riders to catch up. One officer was talking with the donut riders and the other one was talking to a little old lady on the porch of the house where we were stopped. She looked like she might have been around for the land run.

"That's him," about half the riders shouted as they pointed at me.

The officer turned and asked, "Are you responsible for these people?"

"Well, I'm the ride leader today, but as far as being responsible for..."

"Look at them," shouted the little old lady, shaking a bony finger in the officer's face. "Look at them; they are exposing themselves right now!"

"What seems to be the problem, Officer?" I asked.

"We got a call that people on bicycles stopped in front of her house every Saturday morning and exposed themselves," he replied.

The little old lady ducked under the officer's arm and came busting down the sidewalk like a mad banty hen, the officer hot on her heels. "See how they‚re dressed in those tight pants, you can see their thangs plain as day. Arrest them all!" she squawked.

The second I arrived, the other cyclists started sneaking away and soon I was the only one left to suffer her wrath. While one officer was trying to shoo her back to the porch where she couldn't get at me with her cane, I explained to the other one why we stopped there. Both the officers were doing their best to keep from laughing as they explained to the lady that was the way bicyclists dressed, so I made a suggestion that I figured would solve to the whole problem. "Tell the lady that I apologize if we offended her and in the future, we will stop to regroup further down the street."

As I rode away, both officers were still talking with the little lady and I suppose my offer made her happy because we started stopping a block down the street and never saw her again.

Offical Fred Kamp Day

For no other reason than it was just a good idea, a few of us decided to make the Saturday nearest the middle of July a day to honor Fred for his long and usually tireless efforts to keep the donut ride rolling along over all the years. We figured that he must have introduced a thousand people to bicycling over the years and he deserved some sort of recognition. Brown's Bakery offered to provide donuts to however many people showed up and the club paid for a cake.

The first Fred Kamp Day drew close to a hundred riders, many of whom hadn't been on a ride in years. Over the years Fred was given a proclamationfrom the Governor, from the Mayor and from the Director of the Department of Tourism. Having run out of politicians to sign pieces of paper, Esther Goldsmith and I decided to do something a bit different this past July. She made a cap decorated with a styrofoam donut which when pressed would emit a couple Fredisms like "Say behind the fastest rider" and "Wait for me on 19th Street".

I bought a duck call and with great pomp and circumstance, presented it to Fred as a way to get his ducks in a row for the ride. Then knowing that the first thing a person will do when handed a duck call is blow it, I recruited the help of half a dozen people to pelt him with little rubberducks when he blew the call.

Fred was also one of the three originators, or would that be instigators, of the Geezers.
http://www.oklahomabicyclesociety.com/Geezdef.htm

Thanks to Jim Foreman for this very funny Fred tale. Sorry it took so long to get this posted on our website.