"You can't do an Eroica without hugs..." Giancarlo Brocci said this some time ago, when the pandemic stopped everything and everyone to a certain extent.

The confirmation of my doubts about my latent misogyny came one Sunday in October at L'Eroica, the day of my first Eroica.

The headlights cut through the darkness like a blade at half past three in the morning.

On hot summer days, pedaling with immense fatigue through the Oltrepò Pavese vineyards, on asphalt or dirt roads that rarely offer ten metres on the flat, it occurred to me that cyclists and farmers are similar.

We live in an era that is ethically moved by new and profound social and moral values: sustainability, carbon footprint, recycling and reuse above all.

A bar, preferably a tavern, is always an excellent destination for a bike ride. It should always be the finish line; it should always be the only possible one.