2011 Piccolo Suissi Prologue (Part 1/2)

The engine roared in the distance, growing closer. This dimly-lit north London suburb would soon be disturbed by the approaching vehicle. For a half second the sound seemed to stop, and then the ambulance careened around the corner, sirens off, at such a speed that it bounced off the curb. The impact sent a single hubcap flying through the air and into the hungry mouth of a postbox.

Inside the ambulance, the driver, with his eyes closed, mumbled something.

“Again, Bertha? You’re insatiable.”

Behind him, a paramedic held a scalpel loosely, hand rising and falling with the bumps of the road. Beneath him laid his terrified patient, comedically gritting his teeth. One more bump in the road sent a carton of talcum powder to the floor of the ambulance, a thick white cloud rising up around the patient on the stretcher. With a look of panic on his face, the patient’s nose twitched.

“Ahh, ahh, ahhcho—” but the sneeze was averted by the quick fingers of the paramedic, who squeezed so hard on the man’s nose that it turned red. His sneeze quashed, the energy dispersed through the patient’s torso, and squirted a thin stream of blood into the back of the driver’s head, in turn knocking off his hat, which by some magnificent chance of misfortune happened to land beneath the ambulance’s brake pedal.

Tex nudged me.

“Why’s he stopping the dying guy from sneezing?”

“The sneeze will wake them both up. They can’t perform medical procedures when they’re awake.”

“That’s stupid.”

“That’s the joke.”

“So, what’s the name of this sophisticated British comedy?”

The show was called Somnambulance. It was a low budget sitcom about an odd couple (one fat and one thin, though the latter would still be considered doughy if he presented himself at the start-line of a bicycle race) who worked as paramedics in their sleep. I vaguely recognized the overweight one from an old series of Britain’s Gone Cooking. It was hard being so far away, trying to keep up with why people were famous.

Tex put his ear of the headphones back in and resumed staring at my laptop screen with a look that alternated between horror and amusement. If he felt any animosity toward me, he wasn’t showing it. A grin formed in the side of his mouth, and I handed him my half of the headphones.

“You’re not watching?”

“I’ve seen it before,” I said. I realized I had watched the entire series one night when I couldn’t sleep, and although I had very little recollection of the show, the slapstick scenes felt so familiar as to not be funny.

I pressed my nose to the plane’s window looking for signs of civilization. Mountains were beginning to appear through the clouds below, which meant we’d soon be landing in Switzerland. It was far from my favorite landing, though the approach was scenic. I began to regret an early-morning decision to send Amy another email. She hadn’t replied to my first one, and I wanted to make sure she’d received it, so I had tapped something out on my phone while we waited for the cab to the airport.

“Hey, just thinking maybe you should come out to Biarritz and hang out? It’s a really nice place and sunny. Would be a great holiday and nice to see you again.”

Liam was going to be riding the Piccolo Suissi with us. For him the season was three races: this one, the Dauphine, and the Tour. He’d be taking this seriously, trying to make a statement of intent. I didn’t relish the thought of seeing him again, but Tex was cheerful and Liam was shaken, and I had a card up my sleeve in Amy.

The plane bounced off the runway, and I gripped my fingernails into my armrests. When we descended to the concrete the second time, it felt like my heart stayed up in the air. Then the plane rumbled to a rapid stop, and behind me a couple of people began to clap. “Americans,” I thought, then felt guilty. Tex hadn’t noticed or cared. He watched Somnambulance until the seatbelt light went off.

Hotels are a crapshoot for cyclists and the media alike. One day you’ll feel guilty about not taking advantage of the art deco sauna in a glass pyramid, the next you’ll roll up to something that looks suspiciously like a repurposed barn, trying to sleep on mattresses that seem to be stuffed with hay. Today’s was equidistant between the two extremes.

“I’m assuming we’re rooming together,” I said.

“It seems likely, doesn’t it? Who else would they trust you with?”

It stung a bit. The answer to Tex’s question used to be Liam, and it hurt realizing he’d grown so distant from me. “Who is Our Beloved Leader rooming with?”

“Lorenzo, I guess. Lorenzo Arcuri. He’s the only other rider on the squad blessed with the same racing schedule as Liam.”

“Not true,” I said. “He roomed with me at the Race to the Sun.”

“Oh yeah. He added that appearance to his schedule as a specific request. It caused a ton of drama with Hudson and Liam,” Tex said. “Don’t you talk to anybody else on the team?”

Maybe I wasn’t the only troublemaker Liam had allowed to get too close. As if on cue, Liam and Rhianwen walked through the lobby and approached us. She smiled.

Liam nodded at Tex, then they shook hands and hugged. He looked at me with the same poker face he wore in races.

“You alright Dom?”

“I’m good, you?”

“Yeah,” Liam said. He smiled. “We have to get to our room.”

So Liam was rooming with Rhianwen. Perhaps Arcuri got a room to himself. Or perhaps his relationship with Liam even more complex than mine.

We settled into our own room with little fanfare. It was sparsely decorated, with a huge vacant spot that could fit at least one more double bed, and three different television channels showing the weather in three different languages. John Clarke would’ve barged in and made us feel like we were boring unless we came along on whatever mischief he’d conspired in his own bedroom. Wes Speksnijder, too, would’ve found something to make the evening more fun. Tex was engrossed in his book, as usual.

“I’m think I’m on for a good time in the prologue tomorrow,” I said.

Tex reluctantly closed his book, but before he could reply there was a knock at the door. Ton entered without waiting for an invitation.

“Nice room, you guys. Look at the view.”

“How’s your room?” Tex said.

“It’s not so bad, but I have to share it with that puff Jens,” he said. “Anyway, I’m here to tell you when you guys are starting. Dom, you’ll be the first rider representing the team tomorrow.”

“You’re making me go first?”

“In the States we call that being a lead-off batter,” Tex said.

“Seriously? First? Come on. You’re taking the piss.”

“That’s the decision we’ve made. Please trust us.”

“You pair of arseholes. I’m the fastest guy on this team.”

“Given the circumstances, maybe you should be happy with what you’re given,” Ton said. “Tex, you’re seventh. Liam said you need to try to push yourself to match the fastest times over a short course like this. He said you need to work on that top end power to be a sprinter.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Tex said. “What are we going to do tonight?”

“I dated a girl from around here twenty years ago when I’d just started racing. Tonight I’m going to visit her.”

“I meant as a team. And aren’t you married?”

“Listen, I need to freshen up. I’ll see you chaps in the morning.”

He stood up to leave.

“Man, I know you’re European, but those jeans are way too tight. Leave something to her imagination.”

“Not if I can help it.”

And then he left, the sound of his heavy steps rattling in the door. Tex picked up his book again.

“So Liam hates me then,” I said.

“Why do you say that?”

“First starter? I can’t win from there. He’s trying to force a mediocre result from me.”

“Somebody has to start first. Did you check the forecast for tomorrow? It could be he wants you to take the chance to race before the wind changes or the rain starts.”

“Alright, Captain Optimism,” I said. “If you’re right, he’ll be happy when I beat him.”

“Are you planning a big ride?”

“I’ve won these short ones before. 5.1km doesn’t give me time to get tired. The team will be working for me after tomorrow.”

The television grew cruder and the sky began to change. Tex was in danger of picking up his book and leaving me with my thoughts.

“Those pink sunsets over here are always special, don’t you think?” I said.

“My room in Biarritz has a skylight. Sometimes I just lie in bed and look at the sky. It’s funny how many different colours it can be.”

“You have a skylight? I knew I got jibbed on the rooms.”

“I think your room is bigger.”

Still no reply from Amy. Perhaps she’d heard I was riding the lamest position in the prologue and ditched me for someone more successful. The later you start, the more you know: what times everybody else completed the course in, mostly, which is the most important. It’s amazing what you can do if you know it’s what you need to do to win. Plus teammates and staff fill you in on the course. Plus. There’s a psychological thing. Start later in a prologue and it means your team thinks you can win, or it considers you the team leader. Start early and you’re the anonymous guy out there making up the numbers before the cameras are rolling.

Thinking about the cameras, I twigged the other reason they wanted me to go as early as possible. I had the legs and could put in a good time that might stand for a long time, for most of the live broadcast. I couldn’t bear a whole day of everybody reading out my name, and using me as an introduction to discuss the strength of the squad supporting Liam.

“I know Liam was mad at you, but you need to let it go,” Tex said. “I spoke to him. He gets it wasn’t really your fault. I don’t think he’s punishing you.”

“Are we doing this right now?”

“I mean, isn’t he your best friend? Most of the time it seems like you hate him.”

“Does it?” I said. Was it that visible?

“I don’t know. It seems like you’re trying to outdo him. You know, great for anybody who can do it because that guy can ride, but you’re on his team. Literally his team.”

“Isn’t it your team?”

It burned Tex hard, I could tell. I almost felt guilty.

“That’s a business investment now, for what it’s worth. My father expects to see a return.”

“I do have something to prove. Only Liam and I know that I’m as good as him. I need to show the world.”