Hitching A Ride

 I have a confession: In my youth, I grabbed onto cars, buses and trucks while pedaling Manhattan streets. 

So, I can’t be too judgmental of 31 similarly jejune cyclists who took similar rides in Italy.  I’m even a bit sympathetic toward them: They hitched themselves while climbing the Stelvio Pass.

Going up Stelvio ain’t easy. I know:  I did it—on a bike laden with full panniers and a handlebar bag.

But they were disciplined for their rides. On the other hand, I sometimes got tips for mine.

By now, you’ve figured out that those riders in Italy were in a race. I wasn’t-except, perhaps against some lawyer’s, business owner’s or other professional’s deadline.  You might say that I was aiding and abetting another kind of race:  the Rat Race.

The riders in Italy, on the other hand, were in one of the most prominent contests for young racers:  the Under-23 Giro d’Italia, which ends today—a couple of days after the seasons and, possibly, careers of those riders.

I have to admit: when I heard there was “cheating in a bike race,” I was surprised and a bit relieved that it didn’t have to do with drugs.

“They’ve Gone Soft!” Who Would Know Better?

Photo by Zac Williams 

I forget what we were discussing. But I remember what a student said: “My father always talks about walking barefoot three miles in the snow every day to go to school.”

A pause.   “He was in Jamaica!”  She wasn’t talking about the neighborhood in Queens.

There’s always some member of the older generation (as if I can talk about them in the third person!) who insists that they had to be smarter, braver and tougher in the good ol’ days.  Such a person laments how the “younger generation” had “gone soft.”

That criticism has been leveled at the peloton in the just-ended 2023 Giro d’Italia.

What are the bases for such an assessment?

One is that of 176 riders who started, 125 finished.  That is indeed a higher rate of attrition than befalls most races, whether the local Category Four criterium or a Grand Tour like the Giro. But the riders who started three weeks ago included current and former champions, and the “quitters,” as they were called, included the rider who was wearing the race leader’s maglia rosa.

So what, exactly, caused 51 riders to—if you are to believe the critics—melt like a cake in the worst song in the history of pop music. (I can forgive Donna Summer for her disco stuff, but not for giving new life to that song!)

Well, for one thing, there was the weather which, even the haters would concede, was some of the worst in Giro history.  The rain, sleet and all of the other meteorological delights caused crashes that took out a number of riders, including 2020 winner Tao Geoghegan Hart. 

Then there was something that’s sneaking up on much of the rest of the world: a rebound COVID-19. When Belgian Remco Evenepoel, a favorite to win and Aleksandr Vladivostok, a strong contender for a podium spot, were forced to withdraw because of positive tests, they were accused of “faking” or being unable or unwilling to suffer.

As Ryan Mallon points out, cycling differs from other sports in that there is little incentive for a rider to “fake”or “dive.” Players can get themselves or their teams free kicks, foul shots or power plays by rolling on the pitch, court or rink to exaggerate the effect of an opponent’s hit.  On the other hand, if riders crash, fall or are otherwise interrupted, they are rewarded with a longer, tougher chase to keep up—if indeed they still can—with the rest of the pack.

If there is an irony in everything I’ve just mentioned, here it is:  Some of those who are saying that the riders who had to leave the Giro were “faking” or had “gone soft” are professionals who raced during the ‘90’s and early 2000s. You know: the era of PDM, Festina, Lance, Marco Pantani and a few others who, as Jacques Anquetil would say, didn’t win races on salad and mineral water.

Maybe they have a right to call today’s riders “soft”:  After all, those old heroes had to have really high pain thresholds to withstand all of those needles!

The Giro From Hell--In More Ways Than One

No-one was surprised when Ewan Caleb withdrew from the Giro d'Italia the other day.  This year's edition of the Giro was his fifth.  The Australian Lotto-Soudal rider has finished none of them, preferring to attempt wins or strong finishes in sprint stages--his specialty--before reaching the mountain stages.  Also, he and his team feel that this is a good strategy, as it gives him more time to recuperate before the Tour de France, which starts early in July.

But perhaps the strangest withdrawal from the Giro came the day before. Biniam Girmay made history when he emerged victorious in Stage 10, making him the first Black African to win a stage--or wear the overall race leader's jersey (the Giro's Maglia Rosa)--in one of the Grand Tours.  Folks like me had high hopes for him but a seemingly-unlikely mishap, wholly unrelated to riding, forced him out of the race.  

He was celebrating his win on the podium when he leaned over to pick up a bottle of prosecco from a magnum.  At that exact moment, the cork launched itself from the bottle, striking Girmay in his left eye, causing damage to its anterior chamber.  

Biniam Girmay

Given how often professional athletes celebrate major victories with the bubbly-fueled reveries, I am surprised (though relieved) that such incidents are not more common. Girmay was injured through no fault of his own, but I imagine many athletes who don't know how to properly open a bottle of sparking wine or who are intoxicated with the stuf (or simply euphoria), have just missed suffering an injury like Biniay's.

Race officials have announced that in upcoming celebrations, the bottles will be opened before the riders touch them.  I can only hope that Biniay's carrer and life aren't upended by his mishap.

Ewan Caleb, on the other hand, is looking ahead to the Tour de France. But he might not have been talking about his own woes when he referred to this year's Italian Grand Tour as "the Giro from Hell."

In Any Language: Blame The Bike!

You're riding in a race or event, or with your club or a friend or two.  The hill climb feels more arduous than usual, the wind stiffer than what the weather forecasters promised or that straightaway longer than you remember from the last time you rode it.  You take a bite of your energy bar, gulp down some water (or Gatorade).  They don't help.  Nothing does.  You feel that instead of the scenery, the weather or anything else about the ride itself, everyone is noticing that you're struggling to keep up.

Someone asks, "Are you OK?"  Or maybe they don't have to ask.  Their gaze, their facial expression tells you they know.  Do you deny that anything is wrong?  Or do you say, "I didn't sleep last night," "I'm  not feeling quite right" or offer some other excuse that implies you're normally a stronger, faster rider than the one they're seeing.

Perhaps you blame the bike.

That's what Colombian Fernando Gaviria did after finishing second in a high-RPM sprint in the fifth stage of the Giro d'Italia.  

He bounced his front wheel as he crossed the finish line. Then he got off the bike and pounded the saddle with his fist. He unleashed an exclamation they probably didn't teach you in Italian 101:  "Che bici di merda!"  Translation:  What a shitty bike!

Gaviria and Arnaud Demare at the end of the sprint. (Image from Sprint Cycling Agency)

He couldn't get into specifics about the problem, he said, because he'd "get told off." But a video suggested a shifting problem:  As he spun his pedals faster and faster, his chain seemed stuck on the 14-tooth cog.  For a sprint finish, he would have wanted to change to a higher gear.

Perhaps his complaint is legitimate.  But I must admit that it would be funny to see an overweight chain-smoking desk jockey blame his $12,000 rig when he couldn't get up a bridge ramp without seeing stars. 

 

Fall Classics?

A few weeks ago, I wrote about how the coronavirus might keep you from getting the new bike you want. 

The other day, I wondered whether quarantines or containment zones might keep us from doing some of our regular rides--or force us to re-route them.

Now I've learned that bike races, just like other sporting events can be affected.  The Sea Otter Classic, which had been scheduled for next month in Monterey, California,  has been rescheduled for 1-4 October.  

Of course I understand organizers' reasons for re-scheduling the event.  And, given that Italy is basically under lockdown because of its virus outbreak, it's no surprise that this year's Strade Bianche and Milano-San Remo one-day classic races have been postponed.  So, I wonder whether upcoming "classics" further north in Europe, such as Gent-Wevelgem and Paris-Roubaix will also be affected, as the scope of the outbreak is spreading and France has banned gatherings of 1000 or more people.

If those races are postponed or cancelled, what will happen to the Giro d'Italia, which runs in May, or the Tour de France or Vuelta a Espana if the epidemic engulfs those countries.   
David Lappartient, the president of the Union de Cyclisme Internationale, says that canceling the Giro or the Tour would be a "disaster" for cycling.  He seemed more optimistic about the prospects for the Tour, not only because he's French, but also because the worst of the crisis may pass before the race starts.

The Tour's grand depart is scheduled for 27 July--a week earlier than normal--because of the Tokyo Olympics, which themselves may be postponed.

Perhaps the Sea Otter won't be the only major cycling event in October after all. Or, to put it another way, the World Series might not be the only Fall Classic this year!

From Riding Without Tires To Leaving The Competition In His Tracks

Some of us have ridden bikes with mismatched or missing parts.  We may have ridden such bikes because we didn’t know any better.  Or we may have been too poor for a “proper” machine.

Such was the case for Richard Carapaz.  His father brought home a blue BMX he found in a junkyard.  That bike was missing a seat, pedals or brakes.  He rode that bike—without tires on the dusty roads near his home.

That home was in the Ecuadorean village of Playa Alta, near the border with Colombia.  “Alta” means “high”, and that’s no exaggeration:  It’s in the Andes.

Riding in such conditions surely helped him during the past couple of weeks, when conquered climbs on the Alps and
Dolomites.  Those ascents, and strong time trials, helped  him to win the Giro d’Italia.

That victory made him the first Ecuadorean winner of one of the Grand Tours.  While racers in neighboring Colombia are among the sport’s best, cycling has been relatively unknown in Carapaz’s native country.


Whatever else happens, Carapaz is unlikely to forget his roots:  His family has saved that bike he rode without tires.

Riding For The Maglia Rosa In The Land Of Milk And Honey

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haolam,

shehecheyanu, v'kiy'manu, v'higianu laz'man hazeh.

That's about the extent of my Hebrew.  Actually, it's a bit more than I really know.

So what's it doing on this blog?

Well, it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my brother's DNA test shows that we are about 3 percent Jewish.  (I can pretty safely assume we inherited the same genetic material.)  Nor does it have to do with my proximity to Orthodox and Hasidic neighborhoods.  Or my ex.

Rather, it has to do with something that was, until Friday, unprecedented: The Giro d'Italia began--you guessed it--in Israel.  

Like the Tour de France and Vuelta a Espana, most of the Giro takes place in the country for which it's named.  Sometimes a stage, or part of one, will venture into a neighboring country.  When that happens, it's likely an Alpine stage and the riders will find themselves pedaling through passes or up mountains in France, Switzerland or Austria.

Moreover, every other year, the Giro opens outside of Italy.  So, in that sense, Friday's prologue wasn't so unusual, except for one thing:  It was held outside the European continent.

(I made a point of saying "the European continent".  Some argue that Israel is essentially a part of Europe, given its population and culture.  Not having been there, I won't argue about it.)

Dutch rider Tom Dumoulin won the 9.7 km time trial in Jerusalem that comprised the Giro's opening round.  Thousands of spectators lined the streets to watch. More than a few, like Simona Maor, admitted they hadn't heard of the Giro until Friday--although Maor says she knew about the Tour de France.

The Giro continued in Israel over the weekend.  The 167 km second stage, won by Italian Elia Viviani, began in Haifa and ended by the sea in Tel Aviv.  Then he broke out of a bunch sprint to take yesterday's 229km stage through the Negev Desert from Be'er Sheva to Eilat.

To him, Dumoulin and all of the other riders, I say מזל טוב!  That means "Bravo!", more or less!

(By the way, the blessing at the beginning of this post translates roughly as:

O praise to you, Eternal God, sovereign of all:
for giving us life, sustaining us and enabling us to reach this season.)

A Thriller Or A Juicer?

My uncle, who was as much a card-carrying liberal on social issues as anyone I've known (Having spent much of my life involved in the arts and the academic world, that's saying something!) nonetheless refused to watch any movie in which Jane Fonda, a.k.a. "Hanoi Jane", appeared.  

The question of whether you can appreciate the work of anyone accomplished in his or her field--whether in the arts, sports, science or any other area of endeavor--knowing that the person did something immoral, unjust or simply out of line with your values, is certainly not new.  I know otherwise well-read people who will not touch Ezra Pound's Cantos because he was an anti-Semitic Fascist and refuse to have any truck with movies, TV shows, books or other creations from folks who are--or whom they believe to be--immoral or politically incorrect.

Likewise, there are erstwhile fans who gave up on bike racing because of the doping scandals.  This phenomenon was, I believe, most pronounced in the wake of Lance Armstrong's fall from grace.  With all due respect to Greg LeMond, Armstrong was probably the first modern "American hero" of cycling. At least, he was the reason why many Americans paid attention to the Tour de France, if not to bike racing as a whole.  But even Europeans admired and respected him, however grudgingly, if for no other reason than his "comeback" story.

It would be one thing if current and former fans directed their ire solely at him.  Since he was stripped of his titles, however, it seems that some have given up on the sport.  Many more, though, look at every victory, and every current and rising star, through a lens tinted with suspicion.  It's hard to blame them, though the problem of doping pervaded cycling--and sports generally--long before Lance seemed to spring from his death bed to the podium.

So, when Alberto Contador announced his retirement from racing a few months ago, fewer tears were shed than when Bernard Hinault, Eddy Mercx, Jacques Anquetil, Fausto Coppi or even Miguel Indurain called it quits.  That, even though, among those riders, Hinault is the only one besides Contador to have won all three Grand Tours --Tour de France, Giro d'Italia and Vuelta a Espana-- more than once. (Mercx and Anquetil each won the Vuelta once, while neither Coppi nor Indurain ever won it.) Even though nearly anyone who has followed the sport will say that he was one of the most talented riders of his generation, they are not as sorry to see him go as they were when previous winners of the maillot jaune and maglia rosa left the scene.

Contador in the 2005 Tour Down Under

Contador, though, wasn't just a cyclist who won races.  He pedaled with gusto, and raced with panache.  Probably the last cyclist who won with such style was Marco Pantani, winner of the 1998 Tour and Giro.  His "juicing" spiraled into abuse of other drugs, including cocaine, and led to his death five and a half years later. The way Contador rode was often described as a "dance", and he recently admitted that in his final Vuelta --which he won--he would "attack exactly when I felt like it" instead of "calculating everything".  You might say he had his reasons:  After all, he was riding his final race, and it was in his home country.

He was indeed thrilling to watch.  Should we remember him for that--or for the titles he lost and the ban he incurred from his drug use?   

Across Siberia, To The Extreme

Some say the Tour de France is the world's most difficult bicycle race.  Some have even called it the world's most challenging sporting event.  It's not difficult to understand why:  Nearly every day for three weeks, cyclists pedal through all sorts of conditions, climbing mountains, sprinting across flatlands and fighting heat, wind and fatigue.

Others might say the Giro d'Italia and Vuelta a Espana are as unforgiving as the Tour.  After all, each of those races is, like the Tour, a multi-day, multi-stage event that presents similar challenges.  

I can't help but to wonder, though, how each of them compares to the Red Bull Trans-Siberian Extreme Race. This year's version began on 18 July in Moscow's Red Square and ended on 10 August in Vladivostok, a port city near the Chinese border.

At the starting line

Over the course of 24 days, the riders pedaled 14 stages covering 9211 kilometers (about 5700 miles).  That's nearly three times as long as any of the Big Three races in Western Europe.  And, because it goes across Russia--in contrast to the other races, whose courses are loops or rings--the riders cross seven time zones before reaching the finish line.

That feat was accomplished by only three of the ten riders who started.  Russia's Alexey Shchebelin won the general classification for covering the stages in the shortest time, followed by Pierre Bischoff of Germany and Florentino Marcelo Soares of Brazil.  They did what none of the riders could accomplish in last year's edition of the race, and what only one rider did in 2015, the first year of the Trans-Siberian Extreme.  

Interestingly, the race is open to women as well as men.   Shangrila Rendon, a Filipina and Thursday Gervais Dubina of the USA were the only two female contestants.  Paul Bruck, a race organizer, says he wants to make the race "more attractive" for women but is not sure of how to do it.  

One option he might explore is one used in the Race Across America, in which women are given 21 hours more than men (who get 12 days) to complete the 3000-mile course from California to Maryland.  Riders who do not complete the race in the required time frame are listed as "Did not finish" although they are allowed to complete the ride if they wish.

Another option might be to allow the women to compete in two-person teams rather than solo, which would give them the opportunity to hand off and get more rest.  Rendon and Gervais Dubina found that as they fell behind, they lost time for meals and recovery between stages.  

Whatever the race organizers decide for next year, the riders--whatever their gender--will have to prepare for the same sorts of weather and topographical extremes riders encounter in other big races, in addition to the roads themselves.  From what I've been reading, I gather that the road conditions are even worse than in any of the three major Tours.  If anything, they seem like the pave of the Paris-Roubaix after an earthquake.  

No, Alexey, we're not in "Breaking Away"!

Worst of all, those roads aren't closed to traffic for the race.   That, rather than the speed of the race, the weather or the mountain climbs, is what caused Gervais Dubina to withdraw from the race.  "I had three instances in which traffic was coming straight at me on the shoulder," she explained.  "It just got too much for me."

I'm not so sure changing the qualifying times or other rules would have kept her, or very many other riders, whatever their gender idenities, in a race with such conditions.

Shay Elliott and The Roches On St. Patrick's Day

Today is St. Patrick's Day.  Here is a message for the President whose name I dare not say:

Actually, it might be even more appropriate for the guy he appointed to direct the Environmental Protection Agency!

Yes, "Go Green" on St. Patrick's Day!  And every other day of the year.  That might just be a good all-around political philosophy.  Forget the Democrats and Republicans. Go Green!

Today is as good a day as any to think about the great Irish cyclists.  I am one of the many people who regard Stephen Roche as the greatest of all.  He remains, to date, the only Irishman to win the Tour de France and one of the few from any nation to achieve a "Triple Crown" with victories in the Tour de France, Giro d'Italia and Vuelta a Espana in 1987.  In addition, he won or placed highly in a number of "classics" and proved himself in a wide variety of courses, from mountains to time trials.  

The reason why he will never have the status of Jacques Anquetil, Eddy Mercx, Bernard Hinault and Miguel Indurain--whom I, like many other fans, see as the "Big Four"--is that his career was cut short by a chronic knee problem.  But the reason why he's beloved is that probably no other racer's form was as graceful as his.  He really was, to use a cliche, poetry in motion.

Roche, Sean Kelly and every other Irish rider owes a debt to Shay Elliott.  In 1963, he became the first Irishman to win the maillot jaune, which he wore for three days during that year's Tour.  

 

Unfortunately for him, his career spiraled downward because of financial and marital problems.  Worse, he became a pariah in the peloton when he sold a story to a newspaper about drug-taking in the sport.  Two weeks after his father died, he was found dead in the living quarters above the family business premises.  The cause of his death, at age 36, was a gunshot wound.

The Route de Chill Mhantain, a race held every May, was named for Elliott after his death.  It's considered the most prestigious race in Ireland besides the national championships.

About the Irish Road Race and Time Trial Championships:  Last year, they were won by a fellow named Nicolas Roche.  Yes, he's Stephen's son.

Lael Wilcox Beats All Comers--Yes, Including The Men--In The TransAm

In previous posts, I've mentioned the Bikecentennial.  

A few years after it, something called the Race Across America started.  Lon Haldeman won its first incarnation in 1982; Severin Zolter of Austria won last year.  

It is comparable to the European super-races like the Tour de France, Giro d'Italia and Vuelta a Espana mainly in its overall length.  Those races are in stages and consist of a number of diffent kind of events, such as mountain stages and sprints.  On the other hand, Race Across America is a straight-through race, from some point on the West Coast to some point on the East Coast. (The first edition began on the Santa Monica Pier in California and ended at the Empire State Building in New York.) This means that riders choose when and where they stop and how much or how little they sleep.  Another difference is that roads are not closed to traffic for the race's course.  So, perhaps, it's not surprising that both of the fatalities in the race's history are the result of collisions with motor vehicles.

It seems that someone had the bright idea of combining Bikecentennial with the Race Across America.  Thus was the Trans Am race born.  

Run every year since 2014,  it is a transcontinental race, like RAAM.  Also like RAAM, it is not in stages, so insomniacs can ride through the night, if they like. (I imagine it is better for the mind, as well as the body, than binge-watching Gilligan's Island.)  The most interesting aspect of the race, though, is that it's run on the Bikecentennial route--which is 6800 km (4200 miles) long.  That's at least several hundred kilometers longer than any RAAM, Tour, Giro or Vuelta route!

The other morning, the first American to win the race arrived in Yorktown, Virginia 18 days and 10 minutes after departing Astoria, Oregon.  Lael Wilcox came in ahead of 51 other riders.  As of this writing, four others have finished and eight others have scratched.  That means 38 others are still en route to Yorktown.

(You can follow the riders' progress here.)

For most of the race, Wilcox chased Steffen Streich (who, in spite of his name, hails from Lesbos, Greece) and caught him when, after awaking from a 2.5 hour sleep on the last night, began riding the course backward.  When she encountered him (They'd never before met.), he suggested that they ride together to the finish.  She reminded him that they were in a race.

Now, if you're not from the US, you might not care that Wilcox is the first American to win the race.  You might not even care that Wilcox rode the second-fastest time in the history of the race. Only Mike Hall (of England), who won the inaguaral edition of the race, completed it in less time: 17 days and 16 hours.  

The most interesting aspect of Wilcox's feat is--at least to me--is that she is one of the few women to have ridden it.  Think about that:  The only man who bettered her in the history of the race is Mike Hall!

She is making me think of Beryl Burton, of whom I've written in earlier posts. For two years (1967-69), she held the 12-hour time trial record.  Not the women's record, mind you:  the record.  Moreover, her 277.25-mile (446.2 kilometer) ride was a full five miles (eight kilometers) longer than any other 12-hour time trial!

Hmm...Could Lael Wilcox beat all comers in the RAAM--or some other event?

N.B.:  All photos by Nicholas Carman, from the Gypsy By Trade blog

Il Giro Inizia Oggi

Probably the one race everyone's heard of is the Tour de France.  It's one of the oldest and most-promoted multi-day stage races and winning--or even competing in--it is regarded as one of the greatest accomplishments in all of sports.

Today, this year's edition of what is probably the second-best known race--The Giro d'Italia--begins in the Riviera city of San Lorenzo with a Team Time Trial that will end in San Remo.  Alberto Contador, winner of the 2007 and 2009 Tours, is an early favorite to win the Giro.  So is Tasmanian cyclist Richie Porte.




Contador says he is not motivated by the Tour alone--a marked contrast to other cyclists, including, ahem, a certain American--but wants to accomplish something last accompllished by Marco Pantani in 1998:  win both the Giro and the Tour.  He is motivated in part, he claims, by the crash that probably cost him a chance at winning last year's Tour.

Winning both races no mean feat because, like the Tour, the Giro encompasses three weeks of near-daily cycling over widely varying terrain in a number of different riding disciplines:  individual time trials, team time trials, sprints and long road stages, some up and down mountains.  As long as he doesn't crash again or have some other sort of bad luck, he'll complete the Giro and have about a month to recuperate before starting the Tour.  (Of course, "recuperating" for racers at such a high level involves riding more miles than most of us do on our "big ride" days!)  At the starting line in Utrecht on 4 July, he'll be up against cyclists--including some of his own teammates--who haven't ridden the Giro will therefore be fresher.

Contador sandwiched a 2008 Giro win between his Tour victories.  In that same year, he won the Vuelta a Espana--commonly considered the third great stage race of cycling--and reprised those victories in 2012 and 2014.  To date, no one has won all three races in the same year, though several of the sport's greats--including Fausto Coppi, Jacques Anquetil, Eddy Mercx, Bernard Hinault and Miguel Indurain--won two of the three in the same year.  

To state the obvious, if he takes both la maglia rosa and  le maillot jaune this year obvious, Contador  will be in elite company!
 

A Vittoria Ridden To Victory

When I saw this photo, I remembered why I love classic frames a lot but classic gear systems, not so much.

The Stucchi frame is indeed elegant, especially with the wooden rims and chromed parts.  Back in the days when Gino Bartali ruled the pelotons, racers rode bikes much like it.

Most of the bike would not seem out of place today.  But the Vittoria gear system would.  Still, it represented an advance over anything that had been available previously.

Before derailleur-type mechanisms were created, racers typically rode double-sided rear hubs, sometimes with two sprockets on each side.  To change gears, a racer had to dismount and move the chain by hand (if he wanted to use the second gear on the same side of the hub) or "flip" the wheel.  

Choosing the right moment for such a maneuver was part of a racer's strategy, and legend has it that breaking a wingnut while trying to "flip" a wheel on a cold day led a certain racer named Tullio Campagnolo to invent the quick-release axles and skewers we use today.

Gear systems like the Vittoria still required the rider to move the chain by hand from one sprocket to another. However, the cyclist did not have to dismount or remove the wheel.  He could push the lever on the downtube draw the pulley on the chainstay inward, which slackened the chain and made it possible to push the chain from one side to another with his gloved hand--without getting off the bike.

Bartali won the Giro d'Italia on a Legnano equipped with the Vittoria system.  But he didn't win the Tour de France with it, as the race's organizers still forbade derailleurs!