Whatever it takes
See the man. There he sits, eyes moored firmly to the ground at his feet. Head bowed, shoulders slightly slumped, and hands in loose repose,the left clasping a cold, bullet-like can of colored fizz. Periodically he sips. This man is
Gas Station Gourmet
No matter what you call it—a gas, petrol, or service station—it’s probably not the first place you think of when buying groceries to fuel your adventures. But did you ever think maybe it’s not the gas station’s fault? Maybe,
The Toll Collector
My name is Paris-Roubaix. Feel free to call me “The Hell of the North.” For over a century, I have endured your pedaled assaults, your attacks, and your childish whining when I’ve scuttled your plans with my rude-edged cobbles. Even
Of Mice and Mountain Men
The engine of our rental car objects ever so slightly as we begin the initial climb through the lower neighborhoods of Gibraltar Road.Thick with driveways and houses, we poke our way through this narrow, populated corridor on the outskirts of
When Coppi Stopped
Somewhere in the world, at this exact moment, this scene is playing out. A cyclist has entered a café and is fishing money from a plastic baggie while awkwardly tap dancing in the direction of a barista. And just as