NorthWave: So, we have this barbaric idea to promote our new shoe and you’d be perfect for it.
Tom Boonen: Do I get to ride an ox?

NW: No, Mr. Boonen, there will be no ox riding. But interesting that you should mention the Roman Empire. We are going to have to ask you to put on this man-thong made from the hide of a Spanish field mouse.
TB: Will my girlfriend like it?

NW: She’ll love it. Sexier than a commercial for Gilette. Now, we are going to need you to put on this Conan suit worn during the filming of all 7 Conan movies. Don’t worry abou the itching. We know it was never washed, but the Terminator doesn’t have any STD’s… at least none we’ve discovered yet. Just take a look at the Kennedy he bangs day and night, there’s nothing wrong with her. The rash which you will see in 2-4 weeks should disappear quickly. And nevermind the scaring, with the power you’ll get from this skin suit one day you might win Paris-Roubaix three times!
TB: OK. So, can I some more product for my hair?

NW: Hairstylist! Sop him up will you?
TB: When are you bringing in the ox?
NW: No oxen, maybe another time.

TB: What’s this white dust in this pocket?
NW: That’s a special gift from the Terminator. NOW FLEX!!

I’d rather see an ad with Boonen’s girlfriend instead.
Note: the poster from the ’98 DBR campaign is NOT Boonen’s girlfriend. We all know Tornado Tom only dates 16-year-old’s.

As if it were as fashionable as white tie attire at a wedding, wearing a white shoe is the popular choice for cyclists who keep it on the road. It’s just another aspect for mountain bikers to rebel against along with their baggy shorts and hairy legs.

As germane as white shoes and matching socks may be, all formal correctness may change and the Euro snobs may be in for a shock. That’s because last week Lance Armstrong made his thundering reemergence to professional racing and with all eyes trained on his epic return to the Pro Tour, he had the unbecoming audacity to wear black shoes and black socks in the face of the best cyclists in the world.

It was ever apparent from the live streaming video online, Lance showed no fear as he protected Amgen Tour of California race leader Levi Leipheimer for 9 days whether rain or shine. As usual he rode near the front of the pack, and as usual Nike provided him with his shoes. Nike never stopped sponsoring Lance and his Livestrong Cancer Organization even while he was retired.

Now, it is true that 2008 did see an emergence of more UCI teams incorporating black shoes into their kit, but Lance’s image in California was more distinct because along with his black and yellow Livestrong gilet and black bicycle, his shoes were also different from the rest of Team Astana. Last week he just seemed to stick out more, divergent from his team and the rest of the racers who all continued to wear white.

Looking back to Lance’s career he has always been a proponent of a darker shade of shoe and the seven time Tour de France champion started rocking black shoes again in the Tour Down Under this past January. Only at the Interbike’s Cyclocross race last fall in Las Vegas did he wear a mix-colored shoe, a discipline fitting for black.

However, in the Pro Tour he is constantly surrounded by white kicks including those of fellow countrymen Christian Vande Velde, David Zabriskie, and longtime lieutenant George Hincapie. Even Rock Racing and their bad boy civil disobedience is consoled by their white feet, probably because their team is more populated with Europeans this season.

But even with Armstrong’s comeback, most riders and racers will probably stick with white for a while. White shoes still remain the chic and hip choice for club riders everywhere as each cyclist pays homage to the European roots of cycling. However, when applied with a black sock, a dark shoe can make a statement that might stand out as much like Rock Racing’s anarchy. But for now the tradition remains, and white shoes cast a brilliant reflection on a sun-drenched day drawing the eye to the center of the fun, the spin of the pedals, the power and the grace of our sport.

at the meeting point, only thirty riders showed up by the normal departure time. I was surprised by the low turnout. a lot of riders must have decided the roads would still be too wet to ride. but in an instant our small group almost doubled. I turned around to see three black escalades pull up to the curb. they were followed by a large diesel powered van and then a black mass of cyclists rounding the corner. it was nearly the entire rock racing team who had come to crash the party. this was unexpected and hell of a day to skip the ride by sleeping in.

while everyone else was silent with excitement and surprise I realized that the team was sans cippo. however once we took off I started collecting a list of who was in attendance. oddly enough I found myself right next to Santiago Botero and Oscar Sevilla from the start. Huff’s old teammates Creed and Bahati were not far ahead but it wasn’t until the first traffic light that I saw Tyler Hamilton and Fred Rodriguez. I guess I didn’t recognize Hamilton without a needle in his arm.

there were more too. Clinger, Sterling Magnell and I think Victor Hugo Peña. however they upstaged themselves with the caravan that was following alongside. the still photographer on the moto was a nice touch. riding amidst flashbulbs next to Botero was a new experience for me. a white minivan that had seen better days rolled alongside us and the tailgate lifted. in the back seats sat two video cameras filming riders. the cameramen looked like they had not been on a bike since they were twelve and appeared to have rolled straight out of the bar moments before joining the pack. they were probably annoyed by any non-pro that would dare get in their line of fire.

clearly it now was rock racing’s ride. it wasn’t long before the pack was really hammering. the pack stretched out so Sevilla, Botero and Creed all singled-up and I was quick to fall in behind them. with the help of the pack we kept it between 33-37mph. we hit a railway crossing with a train’s whistle bearing down on us. the lights were flashing but the italians shouted, “sprinté! sprinté!” so along with everyone else I ducked my head and hit the wet tracks. one of the escalades floored it under the lowering gates too. I thought he was going to hit them but we all got away clean.

the camera moto was in constant contact with the group speeding ahead to find a new position to take photos from and then speeding ahead again. finally I was losing touch with the group so about 14 of us took a shortcut and met up with them again at the pit stop. at the park a short stocky man climbed out of one of the escalades. this was Michael Ball and he was quite a sight. as we rolled out for more punishment clinger came alongside me and chatted me up about my bike. ball used the slow pace as a photo opportunity to get some pictures of himself riding in the group. his von dutch hat was his only helmet – after what happened to leogrande earlier in the week on the PCH you would think he’d wear a helmet.

the pace picked up again as we headed down cornell road. every other lone cyclist our group met gave us jaw-dropping looks from the sight of the support caravan that were in tow killing the planet one mile at a time. Freddie Rodriguez must have been having trouble with his bike because at one intersection some kid was standing holding a new bike for him. when we rode past the kid yelled, “hey freddie! you need this? you need this?” but freddie didn’t stop and the camera moto kept shooting. that’s when the attacks started going off the front.

the rain returned about two hours after the ride. it’s continuing to pour but now it’s raining harder and the wind is very strong. southern california wasn’t made for weather like this and I think I just heard another tree limb fall. it’s way past my bedtime but I’m still wide awake.