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“The E-17, it’s dark, Normal™ coffee and windshield wipers.

Parking in Antwerp.

Wet cobbles, friends, follow the yellow carpet to a monument in the center of the monument in the center of a zombie nation, free hats.

A brand new Starbucks. An empty gas station in Oudenaard. The Kwaremont.

Jupiler cans and mud, two guys and a woman all named George.

The first time nothing, a parade.

A fan in a flannel covered in horse art. Fields, ruts, horse shit, brightly colored trash, stomped and dirty.

The sun comes out, the women ride past, the second time, yeah, something.

A woman flirts, men piss, flags flutter in the wind.

The third and final lap, Niki looks back.”

Ronde van Vlaanderen

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