Le Tour....de France

I owe an apology or perhaps, at least, an explanation for my absence. No dear reader, I have not been hiking the Appalachian Trail. Nor the Appian Way, for that matter. I have been following Le Tour de France (or as commentator Bob Roll calls it La Tour Day Frants).

I have not followed the tour from the roadsides of France, mind you, but from dear deceased Aunt Dahlia's library/media room. At first, I was content to perch on her Chesterfield sofa, transfixed by the action on her 54-inch telly. But after several days as a sofa pomme de terre, I donned my Bermuda shorts, set up my trusty Raleigh on this training contraption, and started pedaling alongside my new chums George Hincapie and Lance.

Between racing several hours and spending the rest of the day recovering by way of naps and Old Fashioneds, I've had little time for fashion anthropology...or anything else. I have noticed, however, on my way to restock my Old Fashioned supplies, that a number of older men are cycling about town as if they are professional racers. They wear stretchy shorts and snug shirts covered with logos. And I wonder if you know--are there truly racing teams for the over the hill gang? And if so, how might I sign up?

By the by, Le Tour concludes this weekend...and I shall be back to work. Unless of course, someone can steer me to a pro team for the 70+ set. In which case, I may be back in training.