Only twice in history has history assembled such a handsome, good-looking and terribly attractive group of men and women to race around on bicycles. The first time was in Belgium in 1967 and was the result of a top-secret eugenics program, so it doesn’t count. The second time was in LA in 2009.
The SoCal sun's warm rays have worked their fingers through the vent holes of our helmets and massaged our well-groomed scalps, lulling us into a tranquil contentment with an endless procession of business park crits and no-drop group rides. Meanwhile racers in other parts of the world are coating their entire bodies in lanolin, rubbing pesticide soaked mud into their eyeballs and climbing cobbled 20% grades until their chains snap.
Despite the name, we're not from Flanders. We do, however pay tribute to Ritte, our spiritual forefather. He had the legs to win, the heart to do the impossible and the audacity to be ridiculous in an entirely too serious sport.
You can call us pranksters, or posers or just naive, but we aim to push the cycling world even the tiniest bit in the fun direction. So if that's where you're headed, then hop on our pegs.