14 February 2020
My name is Malcolm McRae, this website's author and I have a confession to make. When I wander the streets of Montreal I see ghosts!
My name is Malcolm McRae, this website's author and I have a confession to make. When I wander the streets of Montreal I see ghosts!
I’m not alone in seeing spirits in Montreal. This city is the most haunted in North America. An Algonquian warrior has been spotted on Mont Royal, a decapitated Mary Gallagher searches for her head in Griffintown, and Beaupré the Giant’s corpse now wanders the National Theatre near Old Montreal.
But those are just the famous ones, ghosts who now take pleasure in scaring tourists. No, the phantoms who decided to possess me have other motives. When I first saw this apparition of them, I was unaware of their diabolical plans.
But those are just the famous ones, ghosts who now take pleasure in scaring tourists. No, the phantoms who decided to possess me have other motives. When I first saw this apparition of them, I was unaware of their diabolical plans.
These cycling shadows created a club that thrived till the end of the 19th century. Back then, they were well known, respected. They lived in what later became known as the world wide bicycle craze of the 1890’s. At the end of that decade the it seemed that the future was bright for the bicycle in this city. However the 20th century was not friendly towards them. They were forgotten, tormented as they watched the city they loved being slowly destroyed by the car.
These winged souls look over us, they know that cycling in Montreal may soon have a true renaissance. They celebrate every time a new cycling path is created. They hear our debates about climate change, the environment, safety. They pray that the bicycle may yet reign again in Montreal.
These phantoms knew my weaknesses. I was a perfect mark for their plans. They sought me out, forcing me to tell how cycling and Montreal have long been linked. They drove me to re-found their club and ordered me to follow the same rituals and covenants they had created.
These phantoms knew my weaknesses. I was a perfect mark for their plans. They sought me out, forcing me to tell how cycling and Montreal have long been linked. They drove me to re-found their club and ordered me to follow the same rituals and covenants they had created.
These spooks called their rides “Fixtures”, and demanded that the living club must use that term as well. They announced their Fixtures in newspapers, and commanded me to do the same on the Internet. The shadows demanded that a club of their name must have rides 3 to 4 times a week! These winged wheel demons are hard task masters to follow!
These tormented souls have a mania for writing minutes of meetings. Every ride has to be documented in the Minute book . I did all I could to appease these ghosts, slaving away on a website devoted to praising them, but they were never satisfied with me.
One of these cycling spirits, Louis Rubenstein , would complain to me “Why doesn’t anyone know who I am? In addition to being a racing cyclist, I was a world champion figure skater. Now there is only one lousy water fountain with my name on it. Does not anyone know I brought the world cycling championships to Montreal?"
In a pique of rage these spirits came to me one night demanding that all the living members adopt a spirit name. Now all the new minutes are written as if it is the actual ghosts who are doing these 21 century Fixtures. Perhaps it is true.
The spirits directed me to study club legends long forgotten. I had to learn the answers to obscure trivia like, “Who was the first person to cycle up Cote des Neiges hill?”.
Images of old club meeting places became super imposed upon my thoughts, blurring my distinction between past and present.
I needed help, these ghosts kept demanding more and more from me. Each of them had a story to tell, who they were, what they had done. This madness is spreading, living club members are telling me now how they too had heard from cycling spirits insisting their life stories also be published on my website.
One of them, W.G. Ross, I knew only as a racing cyclist with an obsession with medals. I was ordered to publish his life story and to inform everyone that there is now a national achievement award named after him!
One of them, W.G. Ross, I knew only as a racing cyclist with an obsession with medals. I was ordered to publish his life story and to inform everyone that there is now a national achievement award named after him!
I even learned that some of these cycling souls had even become tempted by the dark side. Dr. Perry Doolittle, a quaint early cycling cherub later became the first person to drive a car across Canada. He is now known as the Father of the Trans Canada Highway.
These cycling ghosts are demanding, yet fair. The cause they compel me to promote is right for our times. Ghostly help for me is on its way. Postings are now appearing on my website without my intervention! Indeed the Montreal Bicycle Club seems poised to rise again.
Will this be enough to appease these spirits? No, for these phantoms to rest in peace, bicycles once again rule the streets of Montreal.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though winged wheels roll
Upon Mont Royal.
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though winged wheels roll
Upon Mont Royal.