The past is not always prologue. This snapshot of my own past, dated July 1989, might imply that cycling would assume a prominent role in my future. It did not. Indeed, this may have been the last time I mounted a bike, on a very mini-Tour de France, around the idyllic hamlets of Eymet and Ste.-Innocence, down Bordeaux way.

I love the name Ste.-Innocence. Somehow, it belongs in the past.