When Passing Other Cyclists....

It's one thing when motorists cut us off, swear at us or otherwise behave badly.

It irks me even more, though, when cyclists are inconsiderate toward each other.

With that in mind, some folks in Merrie Olde England have made a video about something only they can teach us:  How To Be A Gentleman/Lady Cyclists.



Most of the suggestions are commonsensical:  pointing out road hazards, giving a boost to someone who's lagging and helping out with repairs. I had to laugh, though, at the bit about sharing food--including Pringles!  And, after offering suggestions in that oh-so-British understated way, we're told that, ahem, we shouldn't pass wind as we pass each other.

Oh, and don't forget to bring your wallet!

A Real Race Face

Today, most of us would cringe if we were to see a white performer in blackface.  I could barely contain my rage when I found out that the only film version of The Tragedy of Othello available in the library of a college in which I taught was the one in which Laurence Olivier is in blackface.  I know he was legendary, but I didn't think I--let alone my students--could stomach the sight of even an actor of his stature in that mask of oppression.

You might think I've been infected with the hypersensitive political correctness of the academic world when I say that this photo nearly made me jump out of my skin:

 

He is Barry Hoban and, thankfully, he wasn't channeling Al Jolson in The Jazz Singer.  Rather, he was wearing a mudpack to protect himself against the terrible weather he and other riders encountered in the 1972 Paris-Nice race.  Hoban was also wearing two layers under his team jersey and two pairs of gloves. 

By the way, he won that race.  In 1969, he became the first Briton to win two consecutive stages (Nos. 18 and 19) of the Tour de France, and the only Englishman to do so until Mark Cavendish did it in 2008.  He also won six other Tour stages from 1967 through 1975, and completed 11 of the 12 Tours he started.  To this day, no British rider, and almost no other rider from any other country, has finished more Tours.

He also won two stages each of the 1964 Vuelta a Espana and the 1974 Ghent-Wevelgem.  In the latter race, he finished ahead of Eddy Mercx and Roger de Vlaeminck in the overall standings.  In addition, he won a number of one-day classics and stages of longer races.

In the 1967 Tour, he won the stage from Carpentras to Sete the day after Tom Simpson collapsed and died during his ascent of Mont Ventoux.  Two years later, Hoban married Simpson's widow, with whom he had a daughter and raised two stepdaughters.

This is what he looked like without the mudpack:

 

Le Quatorze Juillet: Victoire Sur Ventoux, Mais Pas Pour Un Cyclist Francais

Aujourd'hui, c'est la fete nationale francaise:  le jour de la prise de la Bastille.

If any Francophones or Francophiles are reading this, I apologize that I don't have diacritical marks on my keyboard!

Anyway, I spent le quatorze juillet in France four times, two of them on my bicycle.

In France, this date is always one of the most important in the Tour de France.  Or, at least, it's one of the dates on which the French pay most attention to the race.  Perhaps the best way I can describe it for Americans is this:  Imagine that, on the Fourth of July (le jour d'independence american), there was one baseball game.  Imagine what it would be like if most of the nation (or what seems to be most people in the nation) watched it before enjoying barbecues with families and friends and fireworks displays in their communities.

On all four of the years in which I was in France for le quatorze juillet, I was also there for le quatre.  On two of those occasions, I was in Paris and there were celebrations of American independence.  (The French--even Parisians--don't hate Americans, contrary to what you've heard.  It's more complicated than that.)  But in the other two years, when I was in les pays, enjoying the festivities of le quatorze made up for The Fourth simply being another day.  Well, almost:  The Fourth also happens to be my birthday!

Anyway, in the glory years of French cycling--when riders like Jacques Anquetil, Bernard Thevenet and Bernard Hinault won the Tour--a win in the stage on the 14th was almost expected.  And, in recent years, when the races has been won by cyclists from Spain, Italy, Colombia, the US (Greg LeMond still has his titles.), Germany and--helas (if you're French, anyway)--Britian, French cycling fans could console themselves with a victory--or the prospect of one--by a French rider on Bastille Day.

However, this year, it was not to be.  However, today's stage had an interesting outcome, in its own way.  Chris Froome--a Briton by way of Kenya and South Africa--won today's stage, which ended on the Tour's most difficult climb, Mont Ventoux.


Froome spoils French party by omnisport-uk

Ventoux is inherently a difficult (rated hors de categorie) climb.  But what makes it even more difficult for Tour riders is the fact that, unlike climbs like Galibier, les deux Alpes and Peyresorde (all of which I've done!), Ventoux is not part of a mountain chain.  It seems to come out of nowhere, so it's a shock to riders who've spent the day on the rolling-to-flat terrain that surrounds it.

One of the reasons why Froome's victory on Ventoux is so interesting is that the mountain claimed another famous British rider.  In 1967, Tom Simpson become the first cyclist from Albion to wear the yellow jersey, signifying the race leader, in the history of the Tour.  Some believed he would win the whole race, as he'd had an enormously successful racing season.

However, in pedalling up Ventoux, he suffered a stroke that killed him.  An autopsy revealed--to the surprise of few--that drugs played a part in his death.

There is a memorial to Simpson, and every Tour cyclist pays tribute--whether by waving his cap or with some other gesture--to the rider whose death, some argued, set back the hopes and dreams of British racers for at least a generation.

Three years after his death, one of Simpson's former teammates (on the French Peugeot team) won the stage that ended on le geant de Provence and paid tribute to him.

He was, arguably (Well, I won't argue, anyway!), the greatest racing cyclist who ever lived:  Eddy Mercx.