What do you do during the off-season when your name is Roger de Vlaeminck and you’re a certified organic free-range studmuffin? You roll down to the local Six Day in your Chick MagnetTM tweed suit and bring the ladies in for your pals while you stay Pre-Race Kelly, that’s what.
Category: Anatomy of a Photo
Economics, in its most simple form, follows the Conservation of Mass as defined in physics. Basically, everything goes according to plan so long as outflow is less than or equal to inflow. Failing that, the balance is upset and things start getting complicated. Before long, the calculus starts revolving around “imaginary numbers” (like eleven-teen and thirty-twelve)…
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I’d need a thousand just to describe the carefully disheveled cap placement. I’d need another grand just to describe the positioning of the cranks or front skewer or downtube shifters. I’d be another mille mot in the hole to discuss the fit of the jersey or the white…
Despite being a bald, visually challenged Velominatus, I envy only one other man from the peloton past. The only man who could pull off the historically near-impossible chrome-dome/ponytail combination, and couple it with a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses yet still manage to exude a lethal concoction of Gallic style, hardness and pure V that…
A lot of things taken for granted in Cycling go swiftly out the window when cobblestones are introduced to bicycle and rider. The notion that your wheels should both be pointed in the same direction at any given moment, for instance, or that that they should in some way be in alignment with the direction…
The EPO Era threw up some surprise World Champions from the early ’90s to the mid ’00s. Riders juiced to the gills meant that the rainbow jumper could go to anyone who not only had the form on the bike, but their program sorted and the luck on the day. You could throw a dart…
Erik Breukink, pictured here on the far right in the 1987 Giro, was on the upswing of what seemed to be very bright future. From a young age, he appeared to be a natural Grand Tour rider, so the Dutch teams he perpetually rode for did what Dutch teams do best, which is heap loads…
The question tackled here is of carrying the bicycle, should it require carrying. The non-cyclist is perhaps more inclined to consider carrying their bicycle than is the Cyclist. Examples that come to mind include the navigation of a giant mud pit or a steep twisty narrow snowy descent, where the uninitiated may erroneously contemplate the likelihood of survival between…
It’s a classic tactic. The day’s break is caught and before anyone has time to decide what to do about it, you counter-attack. Already tired from chasing the break, maybe – just maybe – the suckers you tricked into pulling for you will let you get away. That was Beccia’s plan in the 1986 Milan-San…
We are lucky to have @wiscot as a contributor of guest articles. He eschews the carbon ball for real research and his love of cycling history is heartfelt. As the Dauphine winds down @wiscot spins a story of real toughness on the bike. VLVV, Gianni It may have been late May in the south of…
Sometimes, when there’s a job to be done, you just don’t care what you look like. As with gardening, changing the oil or building that new pergola, the best gear for the job is usually the most practical, not the most stylish. In this Cor Vos image from the 1985 Liége-Bastogne-Liége, keeping warm is clearly the…
Sweet Jesus, here is a DS you can’t bluff. Having Raas, Tchmil or Sean Yates as a director must make you a better rider; you will be getting little sympathy from the team car with one of these guys behind the wheel. Some ex-racers really let go when they retire but only Sean Yates looks…
Museeuw rockin’ the bands riding with Cipo decked out in yellow as he twists one up. There are only two things cooler than this and both of them are impossible to get. One is Led Zeppelin playing at your shitty graduation party in the late 70’s and the other is one of those awesome Coca…
FDJ guy: Is that the new fizik Kurve in Bull? Fast Phil: Oui. FDJ guy: Mind if I have a look? Fast Phil: Do it while you can because it’ll be blowing past you later.
One eye open and dreaming; were the building on fire, I suspect this shell of a man could hardly be bothered to move from his bench. As a Cyclist, the enormous weight of the total exhaustion felt by LeMond at this moment fills my spirit with equal measures of dread and envy.
Duck and cover! Our guest article series rolls on with @scaler911’s Anatomy of a Photo. Photo, words, enough said. Yours in Cycling, Gianni — Ah, The Queen of Classics. Hell of the North. L’enfer du Nord. Call it what you will, every spring we Velominati cherish this monument. Every April the course is set to…
Steel Gazelles, check. Monster fork rake, check. Hairnets, check. North European monsoon, check. Flemish Mirror, check. Chain welded to the Big Ring, check. WTF Leggins affixed to Our Hero, check. Roger de Vlaeminck does his part to remind us that while Looking Pro isn’t synonymous with Looking Fantastic, being a Level V Badass can make even the most jacked…
It’s no secret that the cobbles are the domain of the big men. Look through the list of winners in Flanders and Roubaix, and you won’t find any flyweights, grimpeurs or probably anyone under 80kg. Ok, maybe lighter than that, but more likely the weight will be compacted in muscle and distributed over a shorter…
I would have put this under the new “Belgian Affirmations” category, but was overcome with fear that King Kelly would hunt me down and strangle me with his death stare for the crime of suggesting he wants to be anything other than Irish. It is said that some people ride the cobbles with greater ease…
No double wraps of bar tape. No arm warmers or bandages for an injured left arm; just some wrappings borrowed from an Egyptian mummy he sent back to the underworld earlier in the morning. Nothing special for Roger on a typical race day in Hell. Just unmeasurably enormous helpings of Rule #5. The most remarkable thing about this…