At the end of the last cycle club dinner, one of the guys stood up and asked for quiet, a big ask at these boisterous events. He said he was going to read an article from l’équipe, the sports newspaper, written by an undercover journalist who’d infiltrated the club over the last few months and had written an article about the characters he’d met in the Nogaro cycle club.
Obviously a spoof, we all sat back to enjoy it and we weren’t disappointed.
He went on to describe several members who ride regularly; the good looking one who doesn’t like to put in too much effort and has a million excuses for why he’s not at peak fitness; the ex-president for whom money is what matters, who likes to offer advice on a strictly “do as I say, not as I do” basis. Then there’s the late comer to cycling, only taking up the sport after retiring; a perfect gentleman, always immaculately turned out and capable of coping with any paperwork the French system can throw at him, he seems, according to the journalist, to be cycling a little too well and should we be suspicious? He thought that the guy who often rides tandem with his wife deserved a medal for so doing. And as for the one of the few women to ride regularly, who would do anything to help anyone and likes to check that they’ve all taken their medications, had enough to eat, made the bed, locked the house, had a wee……… Or the one who always arrives too late for the formal greetings, so important in France, and passes most of every ride in discussion with the ex-president about the agricultural crisis, the price of maize, the weather, pesticides, etc, etc, but rides strongly; again, should we be suspicious? He blames it on the agricultural pesticides he inhales at work.
Then he got to Nick, aka Bradley Wiggins; this incredible rider who had already performed the amazing feat of escaping the fog of England to arrive in Nogaro, bringing a breath of fresh air to the Nogaro peloton, always attentive to the needs of others and frequently hanging back to help weaker riders. So devoted is he to the club that one day, perceiving a car heading towards them at great speed, he intercepted it, reducing the vehicle to a total wreck and himself suffering several scratches for his wife to fuss over.
We didn’t understand all of it, but enough to appreciate the gist of it; there was hardly a dry eye by the end, everyone was laughing so hard.