| Year founded | Location | Active Members | Fee |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2018 | Schenectady, NY | ~30 | Never |
Little is known about Hamer van den Berg, the official founder of the Dutch Flyers cycling club. He has no known ancestors and there is no record of the first 15 years of his life. Legend has it, he is not technically a human, but rather a different type of species that was formed when a strike of lightning fused together a drop of sweat from Briek Schotte to a falcon and a wolf on the cobbles of Koppenberg shortly after the 1942 Tour of Flanders.
He first appeared on a tulip farm in the province of Limburg in early 1957. The friendly tulip farmer, Jaap Van den Berg, graciously took him in and decided to refer to him as Hamer as the little feral boy had a facial birthmark that resembled a sledge hammer.
The two worked the tulip fields together. At first, Hamer would rip the tulips out the ground with his teeth as a wolf would tear into a fresh carcass, destroying the delicate blossoms in the process. Jaap taught Hamer to be more careful and patient with the flowers. Eventually Hamer developed the soft hands of a true tulip farmer and the two had several successful tulip harvests over the next few years. With the proceeds of a rather successful harvest in the spring of 1958 Jaap bought Hamer his first bicycle.
Jaap recalls the occasion in his diary:
“March 20, 1958. Tonight, I gave him the bike I purchased last week in Sittard-Geleen. He needs something to work through all his aggression. The first thing he did was smell it. He inhaled deeply. As if to bathe his soul in the bikes essence. He fell to the ground and ran his tongue along the bikes drivetrain. This sent a visible jolt through his body. His eyes rolled back in his head and he started to breath heavily and aggressively grunt. “My flower, my flower, my flower!” he kept saying. Foam started to froth from his mouth. He immediately became one with the machine. I felt a cold breeze, saw a flash of lighting and heard a rumble of thunder. Then he was gone. I heard a high pitch squeal as he rode off into the still moonless night. I fear he may never come back.”
Hamer continued to ride constantly for several decades. He rode all across Europe and Northern Africa. He rode through the Pyrenees, the Swiss Alps, the Ardennes. He would glide through the countryside appearing to weightlessly skim the top of the ground as if he possessed the ability to fly. He was easily recognizable for he turned a massive gear and seemed to always smell of freshly cut tulips. Before long he became known by his now famous name, The Dutch Flyer.
Alas, after all that riding, Hamer began to feel lonely. He missed the tulips, and Jaap. He headed back to Jaap’s farm to settle down.
Jaap, now an old man, was happy to see him, but worried for him. Hamer seemed empty. Hamer described that he had found his passion, yet still felt that he was missing something. Jaap told him he must share his passion, just as he shares his tulips with the world. He told Hamer to go to Amsterdam, there are many cyclist there, he would feel at home there, and he could share his passion with others.
Hamer set off to Amsterdam Holland, but in a moment of confusion initiated by a brief encounter with a thick cloud of opium smoke and red lights, he ended up arriving in Amsterdam, N.Y.
Upon arriving in Amsterdam, Hamer realized his mistake. He went for a ride. He discovered decent roads, and an ok valley surrounded by challenging climbs on either side. He also noticed there were no other riders. He was broke so he tried to make the best of it.
He established his home on the greatest road he could find, Treadlemire Road. For years he rode searching for riders to no avail. Most recreational riders were intimidated by his intensity. He grew old and tired and began watching television and drinking heavily. The seasons started to flow by and eventually, Hamer lost track of the years. After one particularly cold and brutal winter, he stepped out of his cabin and saw three men riding their road bikes down the snow covered gravel road.
His face lit up “Allez, Allez, allez!” He yelled. He ran down to greet them. The three men were tired, they had bit off more than they could chew, a snow storm was coming, there was a stiff head wind and they feared they could not make it back to their homes in Schenectady.
“Ik zal je trekken” Hamer said. The three men had no idea what he said, but they declined thinking the old Dutch man was crazy, but Hamer insisted. That afternoon Hamer, pulled them all pushing cadence of 60-70 into the stiff headwind. His old bike creaked under the extreme watts. The men noted the kindness of Hamer, the sweet smell of tulips that flowed in his draft, and the shear force of his pedal stroke. He was a different kind of hard man, a gentle hammer. Snow started to fall, the light was low, everyone just focused on the wheel ahead as Hamer continued to pull.
They reached Schenectady by sunset, the 3 men asked how they could repay Hamer. He told them their companionship was all that he needed. He told them his story and asked them to join his cycling club and to find others who love the bike and to help them blossom into beautiful riders. They accepted his invitation. He graciously thanked them and then vanished off into the night never to be seen again. The Dutch Flyer cycling club was born.
