In every Frenchman's breast lurks a passion more potent, if possible, than his love of the franc or good food. Its outward and visible symbol is the bicycle, but the emotions that bicycling inspires in France have little to do with transportation or exercise. For priests, market-bound peasants, bankers who would sooner pedal than be chauffeured, bicycling is a way to dream and drift in dignity, to twirl life like a long-stemmed glass of Alsace wine. "Vive le vélo, un ami de l'homme" proclaims an affectionate Norman toast: "Long live the bike, a friend of man."
Just as the bullfight affords...
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