At the time, I had blamed my father.
It was all his fault. Everything was his fault.
It just sounded so logical. I couldn't accept responsibility.

But now my words were out there.
It hadn't been his fault. My dad was a great man.
And I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to be a cyclist!



As he looked right into my eyes, I saw he had never looked older.
"Son," he said, "I don't want you going down that path."
I protested. This was hardly fair, I felt.

But that was the end of it. I couldn't understand it at all.
He was a Tour de France winner, a World Champion.
But sitting there, unshaven, in his overalls...

That Henry Vergnaud was dead and buried.

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. I couldn't believe he just said that.
Unbelievable, Travis thought he could show up for a few hours and
make everything perfect and right like he wants it to be.

As much as that frustrated me, I was still curious. I gave him a chance,
"Give me 3 good reasons why I should go back to California with you."
To my surprise, he pulled out another picture from his wallet.

"I can only give you one reason, but I hope this is good enough."



"This is me in one of my first amateur races. Making a name for myself at 18.
And what, you're nearly 19 living at home and doing nothing with your life.
This is your chance to get your life together, cycling is in your blood."

I looked at him and shrugged. I couldn't argue with that. He was right,
about the lack of motivation and direction not so sure about the cycling part.

"Joseph, even though I haven't been here all these years I still know you.
This is an opportunity of a lifetime and I know you're sick of Zooey getting all
the attention because she goes to Kansas St. and is studying abroad in Spain."

Travis was 2 for 2. But then I looked down at my legs, “I'm no cyclist.�

"I'll show you the ropes, get you some of the best equipment, and coach you.
At my age all I have left to give is time. Just me, you, and the open road.
Well, what do you have to say? Are you in? This could change your life."

"Umm... Why not. I've got nothing to lose."

No argument got through to his thick skull.
He had abandoned cycling, just like cycling had abandoned him.
It had spat him out and left him laying on the road. Like a wounded animal.

There was talk in town about plans to bring back cycling,
professional cycling. A reformed organisation, real races. A new start.

Tabula rasa


It was obvious I didn't have my father's blessing to chase my big dream.
Well, then. I'd have to do it without him, didn't I? I packed my bags.
Tomorrow I'd be on that 7:03 train.

Where was I going? Who was I? I was a confused man.
I was only sure of one thing and that was my love for bikes, for cycling.
I left on the 7:03 train the next day. Off to a better future. Off to a new life.