U.S. Rep. Hare talks about his experience in D.C. along bike trail

Riding tip No. 1: If it’s a quiet, relaxing afternoon on the bike path you’re after, do not invite a politician.

Oh, I’m just kidding. Congressman Phil “The Philster” Hare was a hoot. A talkative hoot.

I set out as planned Monday from Sunset Marina in Rock Island, pedaling with Davenport friend and loyal reader, John Dooley. My dad, Bob Ickes, joined us for the first couple of miles, which was a special treat for me.

John, Dad and I were taken by the newness of what surrounded us, especially since we’ve got a combined 160-plus years of Quad-City living. What’s left to be new, right?

But none of us ever had gazed across the particularly narrow stretch of Mississippi River where the clubhouse at Credit Island in Davenport looks close enough to reach out and touch.

The zig-zagging route of the Great River Trail was so foreign to us, in fact, that Dooley and I stumbled upon a dead-end. We’d missed a turn of the path and found ourselves at a grassy patch of nothingness. I had no idea it was possible to get lost on the bike path. Takes a special kind of rider, I guess.

We met up with Hare at Sylvan Island, which is infinitely familiar to me from years of fishing there with my folks. I could see that the congressman had lost weight, and he quickly and proudly replied, “Thirty pounds. Started working out and watching what I eat when I found out I have diabetes. My mom died from it at 72 — a three-shots-a-day diabetic.”

Hare was chatty and colorful and never gave the impression he was so much as winded by the several miles of talking and riding. He told us horror stories about doing battle for specific veterans who were being robbed of their benefits. He talked about the pope’s recent visit to D.C. and told a couple of slightly out-of-school stories about certain members of Congress who are too full of themselves.

He talked about the weight of his responsibility and, at the same time, the importance of not taking himself too seriously.

“If I go out and get hit by a Mack truck tomorrow, Congress will reconvene without the Philster,” he said. “I’m fortunate because I have a sense of humor to keep me grounded. My dad made us laugh at least a couple times a day. You’ve got to have humor.”

We’d been riding, pretty slowly, for about 10 miles when we ducked into the bar at the Captain’s Table at the eastern end of the Ben Butterworth Parkway in Moline. We ordered a couple of Diet Cokes, which came in enormous glasses, and we talked some more about D.C. as the Mississippi rolled past through the window in front of us and our bikes rested outside in the concrete turnaround.

I asked whether he’d sent a note to Sen. Ted Kennedy, regarding his recently diagnosed health troubles. He had. I asked whether he was nervous the first time he spoke on the House floor. He was. And I asked whether the cruel personal remarks that are made by online commenters hurt his feelings.

“You mean ‘Fat Phil?’ ” he asked. “It doesn’t bother me so much until they say things about my family, and that hurts.”

We said our goodbyes to Hare, and Dooley and I pedaled the last little remaining bit of path to the old Case/IH plant at the East Moline border. I realized then that I wasn’t a bit tired, and half a day had passed in what felt like 15 minutes of chit-chat.

I don’t remember ever looking so forward to going to work in the morning.

source QuadCityTimes

Below, Congressman Phil Hare, D-Ill., left, John Dooley and Quad-City Times columnist Barb Ickes make their way along the bike path on the Ben Butterworth Parkway on Monday. When they saw her recumbent tricycle, Hare and Dooley made the same first remark to Ickes: “I thought we were going for a bike ride.”