In the not-so-distant realm of competitive cycling, where every sinew and synapse of the human body is pushed to its ultimate capacity in pursuit of some glorious and ephemeral triumph, one would expect a level of order and meticulous planning akin to that of a NASA mission. However, at the Etoile de Bessèges, an event which—let’s be honest—most of us probably hadn’t marked on our calendars as a must-watch, things took a turn for the surreal in a way that would make even Kafka raise an eyebrow. Early on stage 3, as the racers peddled through the French countryside with…