My Simpson story

By now, you pretty much know a great deal about the legendary British professional cyclist Tom Simpson — at least if you've been reading my blog postings. Hint ... the chap who died on Mont Ventoux during the 1967 Tour de France, at age 29.

If you would like to glean more on this remarkable pedaler, I highly recommend reading any of the three books — "Tom Simpson: Bird on the Wire," "Cycling is my Life," "Put Me Back on My Bike: In Search of Tom Simpson" — I reviewed in the past.

Pride of my autograph collection.

Anyway, while I'm obviously passionate about riding a bicycle, and enjoy learning and sharing any knowledge remotely linked to two-wheeled machines, I've had a bit of a — shall we say — bee in my bonnet over this pro racer who still pulls at the heartstrings of cycling fans 55 years after his death.

I can't explain why. Maybe it has to do with the fact that long-ago tales about the sport of cycling fascinate me. Or maybe it's the fact that my wife is from England. I don't know. But, I knew I had to have a piece of Tom Simpson's history — a part of his story.

Because of my penchant for collecting bicyclists' autographs — having the signatures of such standouts as Eddy Merckx, Roger De Vlaeminck, Fabian Cancellara, Lance Armstrong, and Bob Roll — I decided to attempt to obtain one penned by "Major Tom." Starting my search, and knowing full well that with Simpson dying at such a relatively young age, I realized his autograph would be rather rare ... and probably costly. It didn't matter to me.

Scanning the internet over a period of a couple of weeks — taking careful note of quality and, more importantly, authenticity — I zeroed in on an autograph collector in Williamsburg, Virginia, who has been doing this sort of thing for 30 years. The chosen item for sale, by way of eBay, was a small postcard with a partial record of Simpson's palmarès, the French word for list of achievements. The corners were a little rough and there was a noticeable crease, but the signature — in red ink — was clearly readable and strong.

After a few back-and-forth emails, with one nailing down an agreed upon reduced price, the deal was made. It was then just a matter of waiting for my prize to arrive in the mail. To be honest, I was like a kid counting down the days until Christmas morning.

Now that it has been framed, it is the pride of my collection. While I believe there is special significance with all the autographs I possess — even the ice hockey ones — the Tom Simpson treasure stands out for its uniqueness and for its link to an era of professional cycling that will never be replicated.

And now it is a piece of my history — and a part of my story.