From 8 to 83, they're along for more than the ride

ANGORA, MINN. - The Wazlawik family has had fine company this week. As they have ridden their bikes through the forests of the Iron Range, they have been accompanied by eagles, attended by the spirit of a beloved and lost family member.

If you don't think there might be a connection between an eagle overhead and the presence of a loved one, maybe you need to take a long bike ride.

After 19 years of the Star Tribune Ride Across Minnesota, I can tell you with confidence that families find connection and, sometimes, comfort, on the seats of their bicycles. Since 1990, the Minnesota Chapter of the Multiple Sclerosis Society has raised $13 million and taken 23,000 riders through the heart of the state, from the goose swamps of southern Minnesota to the shining big sea waters of Lake Superior, which this year's TRAM hits today when it rolls down from the Mesabi Range to Two Harbors on the way to Friday's finish in Duluth.

But more than numbers, TRAM has made memories.

Take the Wazlawiks.

Jim Wazlawik, a retired executive from West Lakeland, Minn., was dragooned onto the third TRAM, back in 1992, by his son, Mike, who was 13. "I hadn't been on a bike in 35 years. I said, you've got to be kidding," Jim recalls.

But he went along for the ride, and the result, says Jim, has been "a big, happy family, and all the memories of riding together."

Mike is a truck driver now, too busy to ride. But his dad, 65, is on his 15th TRAM, and has spent the week shepherding Mike's son, Nick, 10, plus two other grandchildren -- Jared, 8, and Laura, 11 -- on the ride.

It's not all laughs, though. TRAM can also bring tears.

Jared and Laura also are accompanied by their mom, Jim's daughter, Sue, who is on her ninth TRAM. And by the memories of their father, Bruce, who died of cancer in 2006. He comes along for the ride, the way they see things.

"Bruce tends to follow us," Sue says. "An eagle is his symbol, and we always see eagles on the ride. Last night, there was an eagle over our campground in Chisholm, and the kids said, 'Look, there's Dad. He always comes with us.'"

Families that bike together like together. But sometimes they have to switch gears when the younger generations start riding. The Wazlawik clan, which includes Jim's younger brother, John, rides as a team calling itself "Tour duh Bars." In the early years of TRAM, their motto was, "First bar on the right, unless it's on the left," and they claim to have sampled the hospitality offered by some of Minnesota's finest establishments. These days, with the kids in tow, the "bars" are candy bars, and the kids carry them in their bike jerseys.

Traditions change, but the drill's the same: memories.

TRAM riders come in all shapes and sizes -- doctors, teachers, farmers, truckers. TRAM is democratic and a demographic dream -- a cross-cultural slice of Minnesotans, ranging in age from 8 (Seneca Kier, of Lakeland) to 83 (Roger Thompson of Underwood, Minn., riding with his granddaughter Tiffany, 21, a pre-med student at the University of Iowa).

Roger, a 100 percent Norwegian, speaks with a beautiful Norsky accent and is making his 13th TRAM -- with a pacemaker. The implant has not affected his hill-climbing ability or determination to finish, but it has affected his ability to evade horseflies. One was buzzing around him Tuesday, on the way to Chisholm, and try as he might, he couldn't pull away from the thing.

"I was riding 11 miles an hour, but that bullfly -- that's what I call 'em -- was doing 34. He just kept buzzing around me."

If you multiply 11 miles an hour by pi, you might get something close to 34, so maybe Roger was right. Or maybe he was pulling my leg. He used to put a button on his bike that said, "Uff Da." If a non-Minnesotan asked what it meant, he gave a traditional explanation: It's what you shout when you go through what the cow leaves behind.

You can't get TRAM Ed like that in school. Unless you were an Alango Red Devil.

Ron Maki, 69, a retired trucker, greeted riders at a rest stop at the old Alango school, which once had living quarters for teachers who came up from Virginia, Minn., 25 miles away, and stayed during the week so as to avoid hazardous roads in winter.

The school, which taught first grade through high school and fed the kids home-cooked meals, closed in 1963. Ron and his wife, Corrinne, graduated in 1957. Their son, Dan, is now restoring the school, which is on the National Register of Historic Places. (You can learn more at www.alangoschool.com.)

Corrinne found the school records in the attic, including her husband's report cards. He had to repeat first grade because his parents were Finnish immigrants and he didn't speak English. But Ron's grades were good after that. Until he got to eighth grade.

"Then I found other things to be interested in -- girls and hunting and fishing," he said. By "girls," of course, Ron meant Corrinne: They dated through high school, and have been married 50 years.

The next TRAM starts July 26, 2009. You are invited to come along for the ride.

Nick Coleman • 612-673-4400 ncoleman@startribune.com