A long, proud tradition of cheating

July is coming, and you know what that means? Fireworks?  No.  Barbeque?  Hell no!  Le tour de France!  Oh, for those who don't sprechen el français, THE Tour OF France.  Yes, I know, most of you do expect a bit of a language lesson in my posts.  Yes, this Saturday the Tour kicks off again, this time in the Netherlands, I believe.  There or maybe Detroit.  I can't keep it straight.  


Anyway, once again the press is filled with news about the latest cheating rumor in the professional peloton.  No, not blood doping, or even it's lesser known (and less effective) alternative, saliva doping.  Not testosterone creams, lotions, suppositories or mints.  Not even HGH.  Nope, the latest approach for the cheating cyclist is to put a drill motor in your bike that pedals it for you.  I am not kidding.  This is what people are claiming.  Seriously.  


Cue the whining, complaining and arguing in the cycling blogosphere, but are we really surprised?  Cyclists will cheat, especially in the tour.  The work is so demanding and the rewards are too enticing.  The penalties just won't suffice.  Short of automatic amputation of both legs at the knee upon suspicion of doping.  Now that would make things interesting.  


Personally, I'm just impressed at the level of sophistication that dopers have achieved.  High tech motors and batteries more powerful for their size than anything a major automobile or laptop manufacturer has been able to produce?  Nice work.  To give perspective on how far they've come, let me introduce you to Hippolyte Aucouturier:

Two time winner or Paris-Roubaix, winner of five stages of the Tour (back when they were really hard, you know, 300 miles or so, on single speed bikes, with wooden wheels, and no support).  But, what Hippolyte (H-dog to his friends) is perhaps best remembered for, besides looking like a villain from a silent movie, was his part in the 1904 Tour.  


In a year plagued by cheating, Hippo took the cake by cheating in a most brazen, creative, and unusual manner.  Sure, some of his competitors simply rode to the train station and hopped a ride for 50 or 60 miles of the stage, and others had gangs attack their competitors, but such pedestrian cheating was well beneath ol' Hippoly.  No, he simply had a cork mouthpiece he clenched in his teeth.  Which was connected to a wire.  Which was connected to a car.  Yep, he was pulled up a mountain by his teeth.  The amazing thing is, that was less painful than riding up it using, you know, your legs.  


So, yes, maybe at some point, someone will use a mechanical motor to cheat in a bike race.  But so what?  It's just the next logical step in a long, proud tradition.  And at least you don't risk having your front teeth ripped out by a 1903 Model A.