Al Stern sat in a hospital bed, his right leg broken, left ankle smashed, both wrists splintered, collarbone cracked, and he talked rapid-fire about Lance Armstrong and bike-chain grease.
Stern’s devotion to bicycling is unwavering, in spite of the hit-and-run driver who left him lying in the street Jan. 3 with at least seven broken bones.
Stern, 52, has been a fixture on Chicago roads since he started cycling more than 30 years ago. He estimates–and nobody questions–that he pedals up to 15,000 to 20,000 miles annually on the blue bicycle that still shines after two decades. Known for his strength on long rides, 100 miles or more, he even has an annual road race named for him in Kankakee County: the Al Stern Marathon.
Friends have long referred to Stern as special. He does not have a driver’s license, struggles with steady employment and lives with his sister and mother.
His single-minded devotion to cycling has made him a local hero for bike commuters like Cal Harris, who abandoned cycling at night for fear of collisions with cars.
“I’ll be out driving in 5 inches of snow, look ahead and see a cyclist, and sure enough, it’ll be Al. I don’t know of anyone that dedicated to the bike, and that’s what endeared him to all of us,” said Harris, 61, of Chicago, a cycling friend for 15 years.
More than a week after Stern was hit by what he describes as a dark, late 1980s Buick, no witnesses have surfaced and the driver remains at large. Police said they hope someone recorded the license plate number and will come forward with information.
At home, a wheelchair waits for his arrival from St. Francis Hospital in Evanston, next to the bike he was riding–remarkably unscathed after the head-on collision.
“His body took the brunt,” said his mother, Eleanore Stern.
In the months ahead, he’ll begin rehabilitation. Friends said they worry about his recovery, though they are sure he’ll return to the road.
“The bike is his life,” said Marshall Gordon, 65, of Libertyville, who used to race against Stern. “It gives him independence and dignity.”
Word of Stern’s predicament has spread among Chicago-area cyclists. Strangers and friends have stepped up to assist. Stern has no insurance.
“This is just sick. I want to find the person responsible and get some money for Al. His bills are going to be hideous, we’re talking $100,000 to $200,000,” said Charlene Dillow, a cyclist and claims adjuster from Elgin.
In Chicago, 1,402 cyclists were involved in accidents with vehicles in 2000. Hit-and-runs accounted for one in every four incidents, according to the state Department of Transportation. In two cases, the cyclist died.
The Chicagoland Bicycle Federation is heading efforts to help Stern. Employees started a fund, and last week they grilled shopkeepers and other possible witnesses near West Devon and North California Avenues, where Stern was hit.
“This scares us all. He wasn’t being reckless or stupid. He just happened to be a victim of a careless driver,” said Randy Warren, a program manager for the federation.
Stern said he is grateful for the support. Again and again he thanks the doctors and his visitors, then waves his cast-bound arms in excitement as he details a visit from a former mechanic for the U.S. Postal Service pro cycling team.
Only when asked how long he will be off the bike does he pause. His brown eyes crinkle with worry.
“The doctors say it could be awhile,” he said.
Stern first mounted a bicycle at age 19 to commute to his factory job in Skokie. Graced with strength and stamina, he started riding for hours, hundreds of miles at a time, even to Wisconsin and back in a day.
Endurance wins the race
A few years later, a neighborhood friend suggested racing. Stern quickly earned a reputation for his endurance.
“He slays in winter races, because while other racers are `building,’ he’s still riding outside 200, 300 miles a week,” said Illinois cyclist Scott Ouimett.
Over the years he has finished in the top five in dozens of Midwest road races. At 6 feet 2 inches and 190 pounds, Stern wasn’t known for speed, but he instead used endurance to wear down his cycling opponents.
Fellow racers marvel at his training technique. “Say we would be racing some 50, 100, 150 miles from Chicago. After the rest of us drove, Al Stern would show up to the race, by bike, and compete,” said cyclist Peter Gilbertson of Mt. Prospect. “Then he would turn around and go back home–on the bike.”
Stern has been clipped by car doors, run off the road and tripped up by oil slicks or ice in more than a dozen minor bike accidents in the past three decades. But he has taken public transportation just once in 15 years, when he was afraid that his bike would be stripped if he locked it on State Street.
“He puts in so many miles that bike manufacturers send him tires and gears and products to test, because they know he does the miles,” said Bob Lundberg, with the organization American Bicycle Racing in Tinley Park.
A flash of headlights
As he has three nights a week for the last 20 years, Stern was cycling home about 9:30 p.m. Jan. 3 after swimming laps at the Mather Park indoor pool, four blocks from home.
He wore his white helmet plastered in yellow sticker reflectors, donned a neon safety vest and switched on three bike-mounted lights.
“I was lit up like a Christmas tree,” he said.
Pedaling with traffic north on California, he slowed for a left turn onto Devon at the stoplight. He remembers feeling confused when headlights flashed, approaching straight and fast. The driver, he believes, may have cut across his lane while turning left onto California.
“It got me by surprise. I couldn’t figure out why anyone would be there,” he said.
The impact sent his 25-pound steel bike skittering across the pavement. Someone called 911 and reported watching a dark-colored car speed away. The caller did not leave a number or name.
“That night was the worst night I’ve had in my 80 years on this Earth,” his mother said. On Friday she said she was glad to hear he would be coming home this weekend, though she worries how she will care for him.
“I’m feeling chipper because he’s starting to come back,” she said.
She cried when she talks of the community support her son has received.
“Those biking people, they love my son. Honest to God, I wouldn’t get on a bike. You know, I think they are crazy, but I appreciate all that they do for my boy.”
