W
e never did ask the French lad why he brought a chainsaw. Standing near the summit of the Col de Joux Plane, the bursts of noise every time a rider went past were just another surreal addition to a mad, and magical, day of sport.
I knew I would love that afternoon on the mountain top with its epic view of Mont Blanc, a joyous roadside crowd (first prize to the man who brought his own hammock, tied between trees), stupendous athletes, thrilling Tour de France racing and, yes, a beer, or trois, along the way.
But it was instructive to see how my two sons, both sports nuts, found their first live Tour experience as thrilling as any. They marvelled at the speed of
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