I grew up in a cycling family. We loved bikes. We lived bikes.
On one count there were 17 of them in the house and that was just the ones in everyday use. There were as many frames, wheels and components in the cellar, the shed and the lock-up garage which we promised to, one day, make up into full and serviceable cycles. The best laid plans never materialised because we were always out on the best two wheelers.
If we could not physically ride out due to the weather or having been grounded for bad behaviour then plan B was to surround ourselves with the images of cycling.
The old films, some grainy and in black and white or in somewhat faded with age colours, of the Tour de France were watched very regularly but no less avidly on each viewing.
If any relatives or friends were planning a trip across the Channel we would pester them to get for us any newspapers, magazines or publications containing news stories, articles or reports and results of cycle races. Our knowledge of the french language was only that covered by our school text books, basic and formulaic at best and so it was a real challenge to translate anything as emotive, descriptive and technical as was the style of the main journalistic content around competitive cycling.
Gradually we would extract and remember key words and phrases from the review of a race as well as the main riders of the time. Given the opportunity to get out and about on our own bikes we would assume the personalities and dialogue of our heroes by being most flamboyant and exuberant in a fake Gallic accent (as if we knew what flamboyance and exuberant was really like!).
During a trip to Paris from East Yorkshire, on our bikes, my brother and I purchased authentic race team jerseys for Peugeot and La Redoute Motobecane and wore these with much posturing and posing. They cost us a good proportion of our whole holiday budget. We went hungry in the last few days of the vacation as a consequence of our youthful vanity and foolishness. It was eminently worth it though. We looked the part even with our road bikes loaded down and cumbersome with panniers and saddle bags.
In our heads we were French bike racers living the life in Le Tour style and not just two Yorkshire lads on a jolly. The return to the UK was, in comparison, a massive anti-climax. Cyclists were little better than second class citizens, an annoyance to other road users and a bit weird, what with all of that unnecessarily flashy clothing with unusual foreign names but there was no taking away or diminishing our memories of that experience.
Even now, some 30 years later, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising whenever I catch a glimpse of images of the 200 strong field of the Tour de France or the sounds of the race from the chatter of the overhead helicopters to the rumble of the convoy of motorbike cameramen and support vehicles.
There is something special and unique surrounding the whole event.
You cannot help but be totally captivated even as a first time spectator or with no prior interest in the sport.
Plain and simple descriptive terms for a cycle race take on a mystical and evocative nature when conveyed in the French Language and you only really need to be familiar with a few to add to your enjoyment and appreciation of the world's greatest endurance event.
For those lucky enough to observe the race at close quarters I have drawn up a glossary of terms and in the chronological order in which they occur in the course of a typical stage.
Gendarmes. The French Police force who are responsible for the safety of the riders, entourage and spectating public. Their presence is everywhere, even on the occasions when Le Tour ventures into other countries.
Caravane publicitaire- a cavalcade of liveried vehicles from main sponsors giving out freebies to the crowds from bottles of water to fly repellent.
Commissaire- the race officials either ahead of the race in readiness for breakaways by the riders or following. The Tour Organiser is always in his bright red car, in recent years a customised Skoda.
Service Course- a bright yellow car with spare bikes and wheels operating as a neutral spares and repairs service if riders get distanced or separated from their team cars.
Pilots- motorcycle riders mostly with pillion passengers from the press or television coverage, mobile race officials, the man with the chalk board for time distances.
Peleton- the main field of riders made up of trade teams with distinctive sponsor logos and comprising many different nationalities within each team.
Directeur Sportif- the manager of a team in the convoy of vehicles with radio contact to his riders and organising tactics, supplies , mechanical assistance and motivation.
Voiture Balai- the broom wagon or last vehicle in the convoy so named because of the display of a witches broom to sweep up any abandoning riders.
Not forgetting the Tifosi- the cycling fans.
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