There is no time to sit down and eat: a meal in comfort. Sandwiches and bottles are hastily thrust into capacious pockets and the dust—covered or mud-bespattered riders push on, guiding the machine with their feet so as to have one hand free for a sandwich and the other for a bottle. Sometimes one of the bunch will amuse himself by sprinting away, whereupon the others drop their refreshments, pedal after him, and, when they overtake him, reproach him bitterly for thus disturbing their meals.} Accidents are frequent. 'A drunken man zigzagging across the road 40 miles from Bayonne—brought down five riders, smashing three out of the five machines. Local cyclists following the race promptly gave up their own wheels, and the three plucky competitors, bleeding from cuts about the head and legs, set off again with their shattered machines on their backs.
At the head of the classification is Christophe, a veteran of 40, who has been a professional cyclist for nearly 20 years, but he is only eight minutes in front of his most swidable rival. Twice already leading in this race in previous years he has smashed his machine in, the mountains and had to carry it several miles before being able to get it repaired. Another of his races, from Milan to San Remo, took place in a snow-} storm which lasted from beginning; to end.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.