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Never bet against red or my Irish dad
At my place, Paris-Roubaix gets full holiday status. That means almost uninterrupted viewing of professional cycling’s biggest one-day classic with only phone calls from my Irish dad, sporadic Twittering and unabashed yelling at my flat screen to disturb my viewing vibe. Yes, it’s a full morning.
My viewing is periodically interrupted by phone calls from across the pond as my dad tries to start arguments about who is going to win, how they are going to win, and why I’m wrong. Occasionally he’ll throw in some random comment about riding over the Muur in ’49 and in those days the cobbles were much harder, dustier, and/or wetter.
Read the rest of my post at Wheel Sucking with Neil on Versus.com







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