'Major Tom' and the Ventoux

Regular followers of my blog might remember my keen interest in one particular British professional cyclist and the two books I reviewed that focused on his life and career. The titles were "Tom Simpson: Bird on the Wire" by Andy McGrath (Rapha, 2017) and Tom Simpson's autobiography, "Cycling is my Life" (Stanley Paul, 1966).

As you may recall, Simpson is mostly renowned because of dying during the 13th stage of the 1967 Tour de France, at age 29, while climbing Mont Ventoux. But that is just a small piece of his remarkable story.

From, by far, my favorite cycling journalist.

While I truly enjoyed both works, I've just finished another one that earns even higher praise — at least in my mind. It's called "Put Me Back on My Bike: In Search of Tom Simpson" by William Fotheringham (Yellow Jersey Press, 2002). I've read two other books by this author that were outstanding as well: "Merckx: Half Man, Half Bike" and "Sunday in Hell: Behind the Lens of the Greatest Cycling Film of All Time."

In "Put Me Back on My Bike," Fotheringham takes the reader to the places and people closely associated with Simpson to produce — as the book jacket reports — the definitive story of the death and life of Britain's greatest ever cyclist. We hear from former teammates, the team mechanic who heard Simpson's last words, his wife, and countless others. Fortunately, for all of us, Simpson was a letter writer, so from various collections of his writings we obtain an in-depth look into what made "Major Tom" so driven to excel.

For me, one of the more interesting aspects of the book was where the author revisited the French mountain and how his words helped us visualize what the desperate and dying Simpson might have been experiencing. Also pointing out, that anyone — with very little effort — can go to the 6,263-foot "Beast of Provence" and pedal the same route. Maybe to finish, albeit more slowly, what Simpson was unable to do.

Of all the mountains in the Tour de France, the Ventoux has its own unique personality. Contained within the 219 pages of the book are these words from philosopher Roland Barthes: "The Ventoux, thrusting abundantly skywards, is a god of Evil to whom sacrifice must be paid. ... A despot of cyclists, it never pardons the weak and exacts an unjust tribute of suffering."

Truer words were never spoken, certainly in the case of the much beloved Tom Simpson. Velo magazine once called this book by Fotheringham "the best cycling biography ever written." After reading it, I don't think I could dispute such a statement.

Editor's note: My keenness for Tom Simpson continues in my next blog posting. Something I'm really excited to share with you. Stay tuned ... and stay safe!

From my birthday ride ... mighty Kennebec River in the background.