CONTENTSForeword by Phil Liggett viiPublishers’ Foreword ixIntroduction 11 Beginnings – The Chester Road Club 32 National Service on a Bike 143 Venturing Abroad 244 From the Peace Race to the Tour de France 365 A Second Roll of the Dice 456 Pelforth 537 Working for the Emperor 698 The Golden Years 899 Mont Ventoux 11910 The Beginning of the End 12911 Return to England 13612 Full Cycle 147Palmarés (compiled by Mike Clark 153and Richard Allchin)

Index of Names

157

INTRODUCTION

There were riders everywhere. The tram lines suddenly spread outacross the cobbled road, and men were falling like dominoes. I hit aheap of riders and must have ridden up a pile of bikes and bodies threeor four feet high.

‘Hell, Vin, you’ll never get away with this…’ Everything ashed

through my mind at once. Miracles happen sometimes, and amazinglyone happened just then. I was travelling so fast with the wind behind meand with no time to brake I rode over the top of them. The bike just wenton and up, bouncing over other bikes and fallen riders until it startedto plunge down the other side. I was over. But then my luck ran out:the front tyre burst as it crashed against the cobbles and tram lines, andthe alloy rim slowly collapsed as I skidded along. I was still grippingthe handlebars and somehow kept upright while I watched the wheelchange from round to oval, then into a lemon shape. Finally the forks bit into the cobble stones, and I was thrown over the roadside barriersinto the crowd at about 30 mph.I picked myself up, surrounded by Kracow coal miners, and jumpedon a spare bike. Those who could get up after the pile-up were doingso. The race had to go on. Another day, another race. And to think thiswould soon be the way I would be earning my living!It all seems such a long time ago now, packing my bags and headingfor the Continent. I was just an amateur then, enjoying myself on clubruns, youth hostel weekends and racing in time trials. But things turnfull cycle. Here I am now, my pro career long behind me, and I’m stillenjoying club runs with the lads, the occasional youth hostel weekend,and riding time trials. Full circle, full cycle.But what about the top of that cycle? Well, what memories, and whatan adventure it all was. It was the kind of life that was almost impossibleto imagine, particularly in Britain where cycling was hardly a nationalsport. It still isn’t. Sure, the introduction of new glossy magazines andTV coverage of Classic races and the international grand tours hasstarted to capture the interest of the general British public but even so, I

doubt if cycle-racing will ever generate the passion here that it does inItaly, France, Belgium, Holland or Spain.

I always said I would start this book when I was past my ftieth birthday, when I qualied as a veteran racer. And I made a promise that Iwould also have to have nished a 24-hour race before I started writing,

because I thought that would mean I’d completed the full cycle of races – everything from club 25-mile time trials, to national championships,to the Tour de France – and back again.

Once you’re over 50, ofcialdom considers you too old to be of

much danger and allows you to compete against other old men andgenerally to dwell on your memories of times passed. I’ve enjoyeddoing that, and if the memories help some younger cyclists head for the

ferry to Europe, or to race in England and enjoy competition and tness,

then I shall be very pleased.I do not want this book to be a dry list of race results; they are justhistory now. I want to write it as I lived it, enjoying almost every momentto the full. Almost every moment, did I say? Well, yes, although someof the moments were pretty painful!I started to write this book quite a while ago on the beach in Sète,roasting slowly under a Mediterranean sun. My wife, Vi, was sittingnext to me when I started writing, just where she sat on the fateful dayin July 1967 when she heard that Tom Simpson had collapsed and diedduring the Tour de France.I was racing on that Tour, and Vi rushed to be with me because Tomand I were like brothers, argumentative but inseparable. The day hedied was really the day my career as a professional bike rider started todie as well. Things just weren’t the same after that, and now even Vi,my wife of 43 years and mother of our three children, has gone to joinTom. But I’ve carried on, made new friends and had new experiences.Added them to the old ones, rolled them all up together, and now I’dlike to share them with you.