Channeling The Ghosts of The Road

My friends at Twin Six have a jersey that I’m very much in love with right now. The Speedy Paris jersey. I love it because when I see it it doesn’t make me think of drug scandals, team cars, egos, and 10 speed groupos with electric shifting. It makes me think of why I love cycling, riding on dirt, and of course endurance mountain bike racing.

How the hell does a jersey do that you ask?

Well, the vintage look and styling of “Speedy Paris” makes me think of the old days of the Tour de France. The days when bike racing was practically unheard of in the U.S. (yes, even less heard of than it is today, but when heard of probably more respected), the days when most of our parents weren’t even born yet, when much of the race was on dirt roads, on bikes that probably weighed as much as today’s down hill bikes.

It makes me think of the days when road racing was more like the Tour Divide than the Tour de France, and the racers appeared to be more like “working class, shot and a beer, ride you into the ground, don’t f*ck with me” guys than 115 pound super humans, the size of 9 year old boys, that fly up paved mountain passes on 15 pound bikes.


That is not to say that today’s Pro road dogs aren’t tough. They’re damn tough (see Jens Voigt, pre dope scandal Tyler Hamilton, George Hincapie, thank you). In my opinion, most are tougher than the many of the 300 pound, pampered athletes of the NFL, that many folks thing are so tough.

To me this jersey is killer, not because it looks cool (although it does), but because seeing it spawns memories of images from the Tours early days, like those seen below. It makes me think of those hardened racers, who did huge climbs, virtually unsupported, on dirt, with one gear. Guys who rode each other into the ground more for bragging rights, and the love of the bike, than to score endorsement contracts or a super model. Guys that would kick my ass, and think me a nancy boy goof with a “magazine” and a 27 gear mountain bike with 100 millimeters of suspension (not that plenty of folks today don’t think that).

Not sure I’ll get around to ordering a Speedy anytime soon (Holiday debt!), but I do know that this time next week I’ll be hurling myself towards Georgia for the 2010 Southern Cross race, and you can bet your ass that as I haul my “I thought this was the off season?” ass over those 50 miles of dirt roads with nearly 8,000 feet of climbing, I will be channeling the the mojo of Maurice Geldhof, Federico Ezquerra, and a myriad of others in order to reach the finish.

Vive le Tour, vive le Speedy, vive le dirt, vive climbing big ass mountains on a bike and hurling yourself back down trying to at least beat the rider in front of you.

*Photos courtesy of The Nationaal Archief photo collection. Please visit their Flickr site for more amazing vintage photos and information on these historic photos and the racers in them.

Music: “Georgia Swing” by Jelly Roll Morton & His Red Hot Peppers