If anyone needs a power meter, heart rate monitor, watch or any other measuring device to calculating your riding mine are all for sale. I’m going Tommy Voeckler. Who decided we needed all the crap anyway? Just ride your bike and let everything else take care of itself.
On Eurosport today someone wrote in, “If it wasn’t for Voeckler this would be the Tour de Snore”. And while I don’t agree, necessarily, it sure would be a lot less fun. Everyone loves an attacking rider. Especially one who starts grimacing in agony with 60k and three climbs still to ride. Throw in lack of most techo gadgets thought to be indispensible for even recreational riders and you’ve got the definition of panache.
There was a moment today that made me so nostalgic I wanted to cry. Our hero, attacking on the day’s final climb, asking a fan how big a gap he had. No radio. No team DS. Just a guy on the side of the road. Probably took a swig of wine from him too. Maybe even a drag off his cigarette.
For a moment it was 1986 all over again. A lone rider attacks an entire peloton, against the sage advice of anyone who would listen, with no calculation whatsoever about whether or not he might make it or completely blow up. All he knows is that he’s going to put his head down and mash on the peddles until either his soigneur or God himself pulls him off his bike. Win or lose, that is how cool people race their bike. You just know The Badger is smiling.