Steve's Observations

So there we were, warm and sunny for a change. Cycling along the flat, smooth, undulating, beauteous canal towpath in the region of Burgundy. Several canal bridges to see, plenty of locks to observe, meandering along enjoying the moment.
Then we saw them. Coming towards us.
Winding, snaking, like a train. At speed.
Ten, maybe twelve cyclists, legs pumping, arms tucked in, handlebar moustaches resting just above their handlebars.

Le Peleton. Mon Dieu!!

French culture. An obsession?
We sat up, anticipated, raised a hand in a gesture of two-wheel allegiance.
"Bonjour!"
Nothing. The merest glimmer of acknowledgment - a faint nod. Concentration and determination on their faces.
Then they were gone.
A blur of Lycra and carbon fibre. A flash of a paunch. A whiff of eau de cologne in the slipstream.
We settled back to our normal pace, wondering which one of us would be wearing the yellow jersey tonight.

Other characters we've encountered include the middle-aged single bloke, looking to intimidate us as he approaches with his vast array of state of the art equipment. Side bags, top bags, under bags, over bags, waterproof this, digital that. We shrink back, feeling like Steptoe and Son.

The young couples; organised, equipped, ache-free.

The day-tripper; silver-grey haired couples, matching branded gear, upright bikes that look like Brunel designed them, happy to talk about their 2km ride to the vineyard that day.

Then there are matching Lycra couples, couples on tandems, men on tandems, trailers, two-wheeled trailers, one-wheeled trailers, homemade trailers, pets in trailers, kids in trailers.

And finally there is the John Candy look alikes, who have forced themselves into Olga Korbut's leotard, perched on a knife-edged seat, all bulges and straining spandex. Distorted logos stretched across pulsating flesh.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the roller- bladers...