Every time I’ve ridden the Roubaix pavé, I’ve peed the next few days like I got VD from some dirty cobble. That might not really sell the non-believer on the pleasure of riding the sacred stones, but there truly is nothing like it anywhere else in the world. Here in Seattle, we have cobbled climbs and they are by all rights legitimately rough. But they pale in comparison to the brutality of the Flemish kasseien, and the Flemish kasseien pale in comparison to the French pavé.
When riding the cobbles, I sometimes find myself almost having an out of body experience, amazed at the fact that bicycle and rider are carrying on in a generally forward progression. On one occasion, I even found myself staring at a bidon that had ejected from my Arundel Mandible bidon cage, which itself says something about how rough the ride was. The bottle seemed to hang in the air for a moment as time slowed and I wondered firstly how the bidon had found its way past my top tube, and secondly whether I should fight the strangely strong urge to try and catch it.
Several of our V-Community brethren are over in Lille as we speak, riding the cobbles with our friends William and Alex from Pavé Cycling Classics and swilling Malteni like fools. They are over there because the thrilling sensation of savage shaking when you hit a secteur at speed from the smooth tarmac followed by the sense of overwhelming relief when the shaking stops as you return once again to the smooth pavement is an itch you have to keep scratching.
Sunday is Paris-Roubaix, the Queen of the Classics. And this time, it really does look like it’s going to be muddy and raining. Thank Merckx. Recall that Tom Boonen is the only favorite in the Peloton who has raced Paris-Roubaix in the wet, in 2002. Fourteen years since a muddy edition. Fourteen.
Will Boonen make it an unprecedented V wins? Or will Faboo come good and tie the record to join Boonen and de Vlaeminck? Or will Pinchy do the double and take his second monument? My money is on rain and an upset winner.
Don’t forget that the VSP Series winner takes home a custom Don Walker and that the runner-up gets a set of handbuilt Café Roubaix CR Wheelworks Arenberg wheels. Third place get a V-Kit. So start your prognostications on the start list, pray to whatever deity that melts your butter, and get your picks in by the time the timer goes to zero.
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It seems that Tommeke might be planning on going out on a high note...
"...winning Roubaix for the 5th time, that's the only reason I'm still racing."
Am I the only one hoping Stijn Vandenbergh goes on a flier for all his Etix overlords and just never lets up? And wins! Son of a bitch he is tall.
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Taking it back to the 'good old days' with a Mapei-esque domination display. Ettix get some Saturday Night LeFevre Gear, My Favourite Martin tows them for30km and they roll in 1-2-3 with Frites doing the Museeuw look-back across the line, which he then snorts up before chipping his teeth from grinding so hard on the cobblestone trophy.
This won't happen.
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@brett
Mapei must have had an especially good pot belge mix that year.
@Gianni
He's too stupid to do anything except chase down his own teammates, drag other teams across, or crash. God forbid if Frites is away and this moron decides he wants to get across too.
@chuckp
Just read this and I am moved to note that he's also an exceptionally nice young man to boot. Last September on a very hot Saturday afternoon my friend Julian and I were climbing Latigo. An Iconic climb in the Santa Monicas. Both of us have 50 well in the rear view mirror now. I was well ahead and Phil passed me. I forget which domestic team he rode for last year but the bikes were Diamondbacks. As he sailed passed me I recognized him and said hi. Later Julian told me that half way up the climb he was out of water and stopped for some shade under a tree. Phil stopped to check on him and gave him some water from his bidon. You just wont ever see anything like that in any other sport I think.
@brett
Thanks for posting that. Awesome stuff and it lead on to a whole bunch of other great vids.
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