Tour de France Stage 9 Gerardmer - Mulhouse *Spoilers*

OPQS

Milton50 wrote:

Martin is still putting time into the 20-odd strong chase group. Pretty ridiculous.

He does generate ridiculous amounts of power. I wouldn't mind being a Watt behind him, that's for sure.

frenchfighter

pottssteve wrote:

frenchfighter wrote:

Love watching French tv. Since I turned it on about 2hours ago there have been two adverts.

And that's why their economy is in such a bad way - not enough encouraging people to buy stuff...

What a great place to live. Commercialism is the death of passion.

pottssteve

frenchfighter wrote:

pottssteve wrote:

frenchfighter wrote:

Love watching French tv. Since I turned it on about 2hours ago there have been two adverts.

And that's why their economy is in such a bad way - not enough encouraging people to buy stuff...

What a great place to live. Commercialism is the death of passion.

I disagree, I'm pretty passionate about buying bikes!

OPQS

frenchfighter wrote:

What a great place to live. Commercialism is the death of passion.

That's signature worthy.

frenchfighter

At last someone decides going backwards on a Europcar wheel is not a good idea. Navarro goes to the front.

frenchfighter

They need to sort out their timings. Gap went from 7.05 to 7.40.

menchovʹsstabilisers

frenchfighter wrote:

Love watching French tv. Since I turned it on about 2hours ago there have been two adverts.

Ah, so that's what you've got against Sky....

frenchfighter

1.45
3.15
7.40

Uphill.
What a boss.

frenchfighter

Jumped to 8.05 now :roll:

Tony Martin is in the big ring.

pottssteve

OPQS wrote:

frenchfighter wrote:

What a great place to live. Commercialism is the death of passion.

That's signature worthy.

Actually, I'm just being cheeky. Here's a bit I wrote, if you have the time to read it:

Twenty eight degrees in the car park and the blue air is thick with petrol fumes and filth. Abandoned packaging whirls madly in the wind, thrashing senselessly against the orange brickwork by the delivery entrance. Behind the smooth automatic double doors lies an air-conditioned four-storey high street piled full of things you will never ever need. Everything you buy is wrapped in plastic, so tight your fingernails can’t get a hold, the only way in is with a dangerously sharp knife. A stab, slash, or a flick. Vacuous, slack-jawed slow, soft and spoiled teenagers slop around the over-bright, falsely happy malls, their Converse trainers grazing the polished floor tiles. Gangs of pubescent consumers, the city’s future, God help it, neither looking where they are going or where they come from. The shops are a sea of junk; new clothes which already hang limp and ugly on the rails, piped music, hormones, false smiles and desperation. Items, fifty quid a piece, even with 40% off, shipped from the Third World where they were made for less than a dollar. Up scale boutiques I daren’t enter because I know I cannot and will not pay the prices they demand. Looking at what I cannot afford makes me poorer, but I can’t explain that to the assistant in the corporate uniform who earns way less than me.
Fast food outlets, ironically queued out of the door. Saturated animal fats, meat of some sort, sugar, salt, waxed paper cups, plastic trays, ketchup in sachets. A treat, the waste, it slides down and doesn’t fill or satisfy. Bloated on the carbon dioxide in the cola.
A woman in a polyester uniform dry-mops a bit of polished tile that cost more than she does and I think, “I’m glad I’m not her”. There’s just so much stuff. Western men, Australians, British, pot-bellied Americans, parade a range of variously attractive Filipino girlfriends around the aisles, a grotesque parody of normal family life, and we all know how she paid for the Gucci jeans he paid for. And I think, “I’m glad I’m not her”. I imagine them later, at “home” in the apartment they share, him, four bottles of imported Belgian beer inside him and feeling randy, her unfortunately sober as he leans against the jamb of the open bathroom door. You rarely see a cycle shop in a mall. This is because cycle shops are not like this. They operate in a more genteel time and space, their customers happy to suffer the inconvenience of hunting down isolated outlets on the periphery of the town centre, a traditional location. Their plate-glass windows are typically a complex and poorly-maintained exhibition of expensive high-end road bikes, ancient cardboard display stands, lubricating and degreasing fluids, peeling sponsor’s advertising stickers and dead insects. Opening the front door activates a little bell, which tinkles reassuringly. Inside is a warm cocoon of shiny technology and bright Lycra. Their smell is of light oil and expensive rubber. Display cases are crammed with thousands of pounds worth of chain rings, pedals and derailleurs, piled in haphazard manner without reverence. The rear of the shop has a soiled floor and comprises a work bench crowded with dozens of tools, spare parts, inner tubes, bottles, rags and empty drinking mugs. The professional work stand holds the carcass of a titanium road bike, devoid of its wheels and pedals, and awaiting servicing. The staff should ideally comprise two gentlemen, one in his late fifties, the other slightly younger, both of whom are rail-thin bicycle enthusiasts with thousands of miles in their legs. They will have an encyclopaedic knowledge of cycling equipment and etiquette and can quote the gradients from most of the major and minor climbs in Europe. Several of their relations own guest houses offering cycling tours of the Alps, Pyrenees or Dolomites. They provide advice without patronising, and at any one time will sponsor half a dozen promising young local riders. The older of the two hints at having ridden with Bahamontes, Anquetil and Merckx. Their hands are permanently oil stained, fingers strong, scarred and sinuous after years of mechanical labour. Though they never try to force a sale they consistently offer substantial discounts to customers in a manner that would cripple most other retailers. You’re lucky to get out of the place without spending at least a month’s wages.

blazing_saddles

Time to turn left onto LGB.

milton50

One more climb to go and then it's all descent and flat.

frenchfighter

Martin takes the Polka Dots into the bargain.

OPQS

Nice! I'm taking nothing for granted until he crosses the line though.

blazing_saddles

frenchfighter wrote:

Love watching French tv. Since I turned it on about 2hours ago there have been two adverts.

It's very good.
Zero ad breaks on Sporza and NED 1, though.
( and the Dutch/Belge economy isn't too shabby, either)

Paul 8v

Above The Cows wrote:

Paul 8v wrote:

Martin dribbling like the dog in Beethoven

Is it dribble or is it snot? If it's snot I have the same problem. Just thought I'd share. I'm not fun to ride in a group with.

Sounds like a way to get out of doing turns on the front

Yellow Peril

J Rod targeting the polka dots from now on. that was a serious sprint for 3rd

above_the_cows

Paul 8v wrote:

Above The Cows wrote:

Paul 8v wrote:

Martin dribbling like the dog in Beethoven

Is it dribble or is it snot? If it's snot I have the same problem. Just thought I'd share. I'm not fun to ride in a group with.

Sounds like a way to get out of doing turns on the front

frenchfighter

Interesting piece PS. Is this from your book? And what country is it a description of?

blazing_saddles

Astana looking weary.
Gallopin looks like he'll be in yellow, this evening.
I wonder how VDB feels about that?

above_the_cows

Cheng Ji Klaxon!!!!!!!!

Cheng Ji feature coming up on Eurosport.

Yellow Peril

Above The Cows wrote:

Paul 8v wrote:

Above The Cows wrote:

Paul 8v wrote:

Martin dribbling like the dog in Beethoven

Is it dribble or is it snot? If it's snot I have the same problem. Just thought I'd share. I'm not fun to ride in a group with.

Sounds like a way to get out of doing turns on the front

I might change my account name to "Behind the Snot"

frenchfighter

2.10
3.30
8.20
15

I guess that gruppetto is going to go like crazy on the descent to make the cut.

above_the_cows

Yellow Peril wrote:

Above The Cows wrote:

Paul 8v wrote:

Above The Cows wrote:

Paul 8v wrote:

Martin dribbling like the dog in Beethoven

Is it dribble or is it snot? If it's snot I have the same problem. Just thought I'd share. I'm not fun to ride in a group with.

Sounds like a way to get out of doing turns on the front

I might change my account name to "Behind the Snot"

It's really hard in the windy Flat Land too, it can really carry.

EDIT - I should say it is good getting rid of wheelsuckers. I scored a direct hit the other weekend.

mfin

A few people were moaning about this stage earlier, I expect a bunch of those wouldn't have done so if they'd known they'd be watching Martin do this.

pottssteve

Cheng 15 minutes back. :shock:

milton50

Tony Martin took 49 seconds out of the likes of Rolland, Navarro et al on a 1st category climb.

above_the_cows

pottssteve wrote:

Cheng 15 minutes back. :shock:

Yes, yes but there's a Cheng Ji feature coming up with John in the Paris dungeon. Hopefully he won't subject Cheng to any of his poetry.

OPQS

mfin wrote:

A few people were moaning about this stage earlier, I expect a bunch of those wouldn't have done so if they'd known they'd be watching Martin do this.

Every stage is a gift, what's to moan about?

Paul 8v

Is that Horner in the Rolland group? Can't see as the camera won't stay on him long enough