Anatomy of a Photo: Greg LeMan

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• It's the smile.

• The greatest American cyclist and a legend. Great photo, great style.

  And probably it's the smile.

• Merckx be praised! We are delivered from the Carcass of Authority!

  It's the fucking bottles.

  I need me some.

  It's also LeMan at the height of his powers. He's smiling 'cause he knows it, and so does everyone he dropped on the climb.

• He's the Man! It's the heart and that Lemond bike

• the delta brakes. period.

• It's the pearlescent white handlebar tape and the tan sidewalls.

• I've ridden one of those old TVT carbon frames "fast" off a real mountain, ANYBODY who could drop down hill like that guy on that noodle of a frame is da'man...that and the waterbottles.

• Clearly the bottles. Coolest bottles ever.

• It's the chrome lugwork on the headtube. Moist.

• It's the white lever hoods. It's the pearl white Benotto tape. It's all the shiny bits. It's the stem. It's the round, deep bars. It's the glint from the summer sun on the DT spokes and box rims. It's the 53 x 11. It's the Number 1 on his rainbow jersey. It's the violet Avocet and Z's. It's the fork rake. It's the bidons that say, "American Caffeine and Sugar. Serve it ice cold. Bitches." It's the blue iridium Oakley Razor Blades that we wish we still had and could wear just one more time. It's riding without a helmet and not giving it a thought. It's descending at 80kph with more than enough cool to flash us a smile.

  That was twenty years ago. I remember it so clearly, like it was this afternoon.

  That's Greg LeMond. That's my hero.