Everyone Hates Cyclists (Except When They Don't)

The complex relationship Italians (and others) have with cycling blends the charm of the race tradition with the tensions it creates.

The roads through Valdengo wind toward the sanctuary of Oropa like ribbons thrown carelessly across the Piedmont hills. Last Sunday, they belonged entirely to the cyclists — or more precisely, to the grand theater of Italian professional cycling, as the first edition of the TROFEO TESSILE e MODA VALDENGO — OROPA carved its way through these ancient textile valleys.

By mid-morning, the procession had already begun. First came the motorcycle outriders, their engines growling importantly. Then the police, lights flashing their blue authority across shuttered shops and closed intersections.

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