RETURNING TO THE HEARTLAND

AS A YOUNG CYCLIST GROWING UP IN ADELAIDE I clearly recall my father saying: “Son, if you want to someday become a professional rider you’ll first have to go to Flanders and learn the trade.”

So I did. There I was, a naive 17-year-old, racing as a junior in Flanders during the late 1980s.

I can still vividly remember my first race – especially walking into the local café, just outside of Ghent, to pick up my race number. That strong scent of massage oil combined with the smell of beer and cigar smoke is something that will stay etched in my mind forever.

It was during those years I learnt the craft of