Monthly Archives: August 2012

The good old days.

Good Ol' Days

Doping is almost as old as professional cycling itself. When Henri Desgrange had the brain wave of instituting a tour around France, he wanted to create an event which required ‘superhuman effort’. Those intrepid cyclists who entered early editions had to pay a 5 Franc entrance fee and were also told they must supply their own dope – which in those days included alcohol, cocaine and chlorofoam.

The Tour did not take a completely blind eye to cheating, in 1906 3 riders were expelled for taking a train. Compared to the skull dugdery of poisoning rivals, and throwing nails on the road surface, dope taking hardly seemed a priority. The early organisers were most keen to encourage the superhuman feats which helped sell papers. It is perhaps from this perspective that we can better understand why doping became such an intrinsic part of cycling’s culture.

Ex·cerpt from Cycling Doping Scandals / By Tejvan.

History repeats itself today a Certain Mr Armstrong admits to doping, highlighting the sometimes corrupt nature of a cycling event we hold so dear.

ON a lighter note, we have nothing to worry about, because we have this man:

Wiggo winning gold at London Olympics 2012

“If I felt I had to take drugs, I would rather stop tomorrow, go and ride club 10-mile time trials, ride to the cafe on Sundays, and work in Tesco stacking shelves.” Bradley Wiggins Tour de France.


Walk out to Winter


Rouleur Magazine

Eric Estlund from Winter Bicycles, as featured in issue 32, works his magic with metal in this lovely short film by Ryan Schoeck.

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Goodbye Sundays

Due to increased work load, Robs grumpy levels are soaring and he is
beginning to grow new ear hair. Because of this new hair situation
Sargent and co will now be closed on a Sunday.


Paul Smith likes us

Sometimes random things happen, like someone happening upon a Paul Smith interview in a French newspaper that happens to mention us. Rob and I thought this was pretty amazing, Cassius really didn’t. The tabby cat around the corner is called Jean-Claude and when he moved in he was bowling round like the big I am. Cassius ended up chasing him into a recycling bin and ever since he has had a thing about anything french. He won’t hear a word about Le Tour anymore.

Georgie Wood