to win paris–rouen, my father had to show muscular power, courage and determination and intelligence. the place de l'étoile [site of the arc de triomphe] was again the scene, at seven o'clock in the morning... the pedal-driven bicycle was now established and 325 riders had entered for the 83-mile race to rouen. the organisers were scared of starting them all together, so split the field into two groups – a little girl of five made the draw. my father was the race favourite; second favourite was castéra, who was second at st cloud; third favourite was an english visitor, a student from cambridge named johnson, who had won races at home. my father was now considered so much a friend of france that he was being called 'the flying parisian'.