What Were They Riding From?

 

Some elite racers continue to ride after retiring from competition.  Then there others—like Jacques Anquetil, the first five-time winner of the Tour de France—all but stopped cycling. From the time he retired in 1969 until his death in 1987, he mounted his bike only three times. “I have done enough cycling,” he declared.

Following in his footsteps or tire tracks, it seems, is Sir Bradley Wiggins, who won the 2012 Tour.  He says he no longer rides a bicycle, although his reason is different and he coaches his son in his racing career.

That last fact is very interesting when you consider the first British TdF winner’s reasons for hanging up his bike.  “A lot of my cycling career was about running from my past,” he explains. “It was a distraction.”

That past included a father—who just happened to be a six-day race champion in Australia—who was absent until Bradley, at 19, was beginning his career. The elder Wiggins showed up in Belgium, where the young rider was racing. 

Bradley described it as “probably the hardest day of his life” even though spectators at the track in Ghent were cheering him.  His father, broke and broken, regaled him with stories of how he “beat everybody in Europe.” Then, while, squeezing his newly-found son’s arm, he delivered a verbal coup de grâce: “Just don’t forget, you’ll never be as good as your old man.”

(Is that the start of an Oedipal conflict, or what?)

Reading that reminded me of someone I knew who ran for the track teams of her high school and college. She told me that one day, she was out for her daily training run—a ritual she continued after she graduated and no longer was competing—when she stopped in her tracks and wondered aloud, “Why am I doing this?” She realized that she, like Sir Bradley, was running from a traumatic past—which, in her case, included sexual abuse from her brothers.

Speaking of which:  before the “reunion” with his father, he had been sexually abused—at age 12, by a youth cycling coach.

In a strange, terrible way, Sir Bradley Wiggins has—besides his Tour de France victories and World Championships—something in common with Anquetil and other cyclists who rode little or not at all after retiring from competition.  Jacques and other riders—almost none of whom attained anything near his level of success—grew up poor or working-class. For them, the bicycle was a vehicle of escape from the farm or factory.  Once they could afford a nice house and car, the bicycle became a symbol of a past from which they were trying to ride away—just as it was for Sir Bradley Wiggins.

Happy Father's Day!

Some parents talk about their failures in raising their children.  Of course, "failure" can be defined in any number of ways:  Perhaps the child didn't follow the career path the parents wanted.  Or he or she married the "wrong" person or didn't get married at all--or didn't have kids.  Or end up with the lifestyle the parents envisioned.

I have to say, I am guilty on all counts. My career and lifestyle are nothing like what my parents--especially my father--wanted from and for me.  And, yes, I married the "wrong" person--and never married again after that.  But none of that is either of my parents' fault--really.

I will, however, admit there is one area in which I've failed miserably in the making of my parents.  You see, I tried to turn both of them into cyclists--even to the point of giving them bicycles as gifts for some occasion or another.  I don't think my mother ever rode hers (If I recall, it was sold when my parents moved from New Jersey to Florida.) and my father may have ridden a couple of times with me.  Though his bike survived the move, it, too was eventually sold.

So...I can't say that my father (or mother) and I bonded over bike riding.  For that matter, if I recall correctly, I didn't learn how to ride from either of them:  I got those lessons from my grandfather (who died before I turned eight) and an uncle.  

I failed, but I think my parents have forgiven me by now.  A lot has been forgiven, or simply written off as vodka under the bridge, as Alexandr Revva might say. 

(Why did I choose him?  I confess:  He's one of the few Russians whose name I can spell!)

Anyway, in the spirit of father-child relationships, I offer this, from one of my favorite comic-strip series:

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day.  I extend this wish, not only to those of you who are male parents, but to any of you who have taught a child--or any young person--important life lessons and skills.

Since you're reading this blog, you probably agree that the most important skill--or, at least, one of the most important skills is riding a bicycle.  So for those of you who stayed with some kid until she or he learned how to pedal while balancing on two wheels, I offer this, from World of Wander on Etsy New Zealand:

Most of you would probably agree that one of the most important lessons is the knowledge of right from wrong.  Many of you, I'm sure, learned that at least in part from your fathers:

Finally, some of you would argue that the most important thing that your fathers imparted to you--and perhaps the thing you share most as adults--is beer.  (Such is not the case for my father:  He--thankfully--has never been much of a drinker.)  If your father loves bikes and beers, you might want to give him this:

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't end this post without mentioning the film that shows, more than any other that I am aware of, just how a bicycle can bring a father and child together.  


That film, of course, is the monumental Ladri di Biciclette:



I hope that it doesn't take the theft of your, or anyone else's, bike to bring you and your father (or, for that matter, mother) together!