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Stage 13 of the Tour de France,

quite possibly
the most difficult climb

of the entire race.

But one rider,
Italy's JuJu Peppi,

is absolutely burning up
this mountain...

nearing the top of the Pyrenees

minutes ahead of the pack.

He's practically
dancing on the pedals

as he blasts past other riders,

showing no signs of fatigue.

The Tour de France,
the crème de la crème of cycling.

At some point during
the three-week race,

half the world will tune in.

With 3.5 billion viewers,
it is far and away

the most-watched
sporting event on Earth,

but it is also perhaps
the most controversial.

JuJu's opened an impressive lead

with his
record-setting pace.

JuJu now relieving himself,

which is a thing
that cyclists actually do,

and he's making quite a mess

as he continues
to burn up the mountainside.

Unbelievable!
JuJu Peppi's legs pumping away,

pushing his body
to its absolute limits!

How is he doing this?

How is he doing this?

And just then...

JuJu Peppi's heart exploded.

Here we go! He's into
the tuck for the downhill.

No one even knew he was dead

for about 12 kilometers.

Look at that form!

He's perfectly still
for optimum wind resistance!

He died...
with his dick out.

In the autopsy, they found out

JuJu was on EPO and cocaine.

Also, some insulin
and anabolic steroids,

Oxabolone and Nandrolone.

Trace amounts of
Norethandrolone and Furazabol.

They even found some
heroin in his system.

There was also Letrozole
and Cyclazadone,

some estrogen
receptor modulators,

Raloxifene and Tamoxifen...

probably to ward off
breast growth.

A lot of Oxycodone in his blood,

Phentermine as well.

Ortetamine, Bunolol,
and Labetalol.

Plus he had apparently
huffed ethanol

and taken a couple MDAs.

He had clearly smoked some
crystal meth and/or crack,

and there was a hormone
from monkey testicles

that he had cooked down
into a broth that he drank.

He also had apparently eaten

at least one sandwich
from Arby's.

JuJu Peppi gave himself a huge edge

at the 1982 Tour de France with
performance-enhancing drugs.

Oh my God!

What the fuck? Jesus Christ!

But he was far
from alone that year.

In what has now become known
as the Tour de Pharmacy,

athletes took drug abuse to a level
never seen before or thereafter,

creating supermen
in Superman spandex,

attempting to traverse
2,179 miles

and over some of the most treacherous
mountain ranges on the planet.

But how do you tell
the story of a bike race,

the story
of 170 extreme personalities

all vying for a common goal?

You probably could,
but it would take forever.

Luckily, we only have to tell
the story of five of them.

Well, the
atmosphere is positively electric

as the town of Basel
has gathered to greet

the riders who have come
from all over the world.

Here's one now, arriving all the
way from the United States,

Slim Robinson.
Hey.

Hi, Slim. Welcome.

Slim Robinson was
sports royalty.

His uncle was Jackie
Robinson, who, of course,

was the first black man
in professional baseball.

And throughout his life, Slim
excelled at many different sports,

but obviously struggled
to stand out like his uncle,

because he wasn't
the only black athlete...

until he found cycling,

which was very white.

And it made him happy,
because it was the last sport

where he could break
the color line.

My uncle was the first
black something.

I wanted to be the first
black something too.

First one to ever
do it, baby. Woo!

Slim Robinson!

Seeing another black
man on a bicycle was

a huge deal for me, you know?

So, a lot of people
think of me as a boxer,

but what they really didn't know
is that I love bicycles.

When I was a kid,

I got a Schwinn bicycle,
and, man, I would ride

that bicycle all over
New York City.

But then one day
my bicycle was stolen.

When I finally found out
who stole my bicycle,

I beat the shit
outta that kid, man.

And I realized, "Hey,

I'm a better fighter
than I am a cyclist."

And this is how
I became a boxer.

My whole life,
people have been referring

to me as the nephew
of Jackie Robinson.

But I think
after what I do here today,

they're gonna start
calling him "Slim's uncle."

Really? You think
that people will start

to call Jackie Robinson
"Slim's uncle"?

Absolutely. Yeah.
I disagree.

But what no one knew
was that the color barrier

would not be the only
barrier to fall that year.

Because I am woman,

everyone think I cannot
do what a man can do.

"How can you ride without
the dick and the balls?

How can you ride
a bike with a...

how you say?
You say "pussy."

So, this is why I had
to disguise myself as a man.

Adrian Baton,
the great French mystery.

Being your first Tour,
were you rattled by anything?

The... the shaving of legs.

I've never done this before,

so this is a first, uh...

I am a man, you are a man.
We don't shave our legs.

Right, but as a cyclist,
it's essential, isn't it?

But it is weird.

It was my first time talking
in public as a man...

Someone smells of lilac.
Is it her?

Oh, yes, uh,

very lilac and very hot.

Ho, ho, ho, ho,
what a hot chick.

And I think I nailed it.

There were still other
firsts at the '82 Tour,

including the appearance
of Marty Hass,

the first-ever
African cyclist.

Marty Hass. Marty Hass.
Africa! What's up, Africa?

Feeling strong, ready for the race?
Woo!

Oh, I was...
I was just, uh,

psyched, psyched,
psyched to be there,

you know, representing Nigeria

and all my Nigerian
brothers and chicks.

Marty's father owned
a diamond mine

near Nigeria's capital...

where he went to an
all-American private school.

He rarely associated
with actual Nigerians.

At a young age, Marty established
himself as the country's best cyclist,

because everyone else was
on bicycles made out of wood.

But on a serious note, Rex,

it is truly an honor
to be here to represent Africa,

because... I don't know
if you know this, but Africa's

actually going through
some pretty weak stuff.

Right. For example, oftentimes,
it'll get pretty warm there.

Here in Nigeria,
we hate Marty Hass.

Marty Hass would
walk into a bar,

then he would go
over to the jukebox

and put on Bob Marley, "Legend,"

and be shouting,
"African music!"

Jamaica is not in Africa.

Well, you seem very, very
proud of your homeland.

Indeed I am.
You know, I miss it.

Being here in France,
I miss it back home,

and... I bless the rains
down in Africa.

Right, right, like the song.

Oh, I'm not familiar with that.

It's the lyrics
to the Toto song, "Africa."

Uh, I'm not familiar with that.

But at any rate,
it's gonna take a lot...

To drag me away from you.

From you. That's what I was gonna say!
Shall we do it in harmony?

That's so bizarre.
I was gonna say,

"Drag me away from you,
from this great interview."

Real Africans didn't like
that song, "Africa."

That's why he was lying.

You ever seen the dudes
in the band Toto?

Those dudes shouldn't
be singing about Africa.

There's an "honor among
thieves" code in cycling,

and openly discussing the use
of performance-enhancing drugs

is certainly off-limits.

But we found one former cyclist

who was bold enough
to speak frankly

under the guise of anonymity.

I'm standing here with the
legendary Gustav Ditters.

You look like you're
going to be carrying

a few extra pounds
on the bike this year.

Yes. This is what happens
when you train super hard,

on the bicycle.

Well, it is quite impressive.

Looks almost like you
could play a real sport.

Everyone was cheating.

Everyone...
except for me.

I'm gonna have to work

extra hard to keep up
with you out there.

That's right, you heard it.

This year, I'll be on the bike,
riding alongside the riders,

conducting my interviews
during the race,

that is if I don't
pass out immediately.

What do you think about that, Gustav?
Fucking hell, mate.

The 1982 Tour de France was
the most eccentric bike race

in the history of cycling,
in large part due to the fact

that virtually every rider
in the race was doping,

nearly all 170 of them.

The reason every rider was
on drugs in the '82 race

has to do with the
fact that credit cards

were introduced to
Finland the year before.

KultaBank issued the first
Finnish charge card,

and they announced it with
a bizarre commercial.

Yeah, it's
a confusing commercial

for a dozen reasons at least.

First of all, why is going down
on his wife payment for this guy?

And what's he paying for?
Spilling the milk?

We saw him spill the milk, so why is she
drinking milk in the very next scene?

You'll notice the woman
doesn't climax,

which means the debt
has not been fully repaid,

and likely never will.
Right, guys?

Sorry, I just noticed
the crew is mostly women.

I'm not good at oral sex.

The disciplinary cunnilingus
shown in the commercials

certainly did not do its job explaining
credit cards to the people of Finland.

And this included
the former president

of the UCI, Ditmer Klerken.

Well, the UCI was in charge

of testing all the
riders for doping,

and the guy in charge of that had
a serious credit card problem.

I would see something,
like a cool car

a cool horse, or
something like this,

and... and I would hand them
this magic piece of plastic

and they would give me
the cool thing.

After three months, Ditmer owed

nearly $16 million U.S.
to KultaBank.

Because he was
in this huge debt,

Ditmer sent every rider
a note saying

if they paid him $50,000,

they wouldn't
get drug-tested that year.

"Hey, if you don't
want to be drug tested,

"make a check out
to Ditmer Klerken

"in the amount
of $50,000 U.S.

"and you won't be.
Thanks you guys, Ditmer.

"PS, if you tell
anyone about this,

I'll fucking kill you!!"

Silly.

And here we go!

The 1982 Tour de France
has officially begun!

Guys came out flying on bikes! Man,
I wanted to be on a bike so bad.

Day one, 207 kilometers
from Basel to Mohlin,

up and over some of the most
breathtaking Hillscapes in the world.

A serene landscape that
was completely juxtaposed

to the ugliness
that was about to ensue.

The riders still
holding tight in the Peloton.

JuJu Peppi not surprisingly
at the front of the pack.

And it looks like we've got
a beautiful fan up ahead!

Hey, hey, Bella senora!

And JuJu went in for the
grope and is losing balance!

Can he stay up?
Oh no! Oh no!

JuJu's lost his balance!
He's fallen over!

It's a terrible crash!

Yay!

People are beginning to stand,

which is a good sign.
Is-a not my fault!

- I lose-a sight of the road!
- Hey, JuJu!

Whoa!

Jabin Dolchey was
known for two things;

Fighting and his outfits
that he claimed to be made

from a high-tech breathable
material he called Spanlon.

Jabin Dolchey!
Speed the competition!

He was an odd bird,

and he seemed proud
of what everyone could see

was a very tiny,
misshaped penis.

Jabin's punch kicked off the
most massive scuffle in Tour history.

Well, this is just awful.

These men are literally trying
to tear one another apart.

Cyclists are incredible athletes

as far as endurance goes,

but a great deal of 'em
fight like little bitches.

They had a dance party,
and people said it was a fight.

As a boxer,
it was offensive to me.

And as is with every
accident near Switzerland,

a Saint Bernard is
the first responder.

It's really peaty.

They tried to hurt each other,

but I am a... a peaceful person.

I don't do things like that.

Please!
No! No! I beg you!

No! No! Please! I'm naked!

Please put me down!

Everything I did that day,

I did in self-defense.

French authorities
finally arrived

and put the kibosh
on the fracas.

The first day was canceled,

but with no major injuries,
the race was expected

to resume the following day,

were it not
for a forsaken water bottle.

Ah!

Ooh!

Woo!

If you take too strong
a dose of amphetamines,

they can act
as a super powerful aphrodisiac.

No, no, no.
Oui.

No!

No! No!

No.

No.

When I took a large
dose of amphetamines,

I ended up having sex with a...

Oh, we have to try every drug
on our banned list,

so we know what
we're dealing with.

I actually paint what
the experiences are like,

so I can remember
the effects of each drug.

Would you like to see them?

So, this is what I painted
while I was on amphetamines.

It's kind of what I felt like
when I did the drug.

Yeah.

This is when
I did crack cocaine,

so you can see how similar
the two drugs are.

Oh, this is from
when I did meth.

So, you can see that meth is a very
different drug than the other two.

Yeah.

And all of these are for sale.

In an attempt to
quell the media frenzy,

the water bottle created,

Ditmer Klerken held a press conference.

Ditmer, Ditmer. There are reports
that you asked every rider

for $50,000 if they did not want
to be drug tested.

Is... is that true?
Yeah, that's true.

I mean, no. Fuck! No. I mean...
no, I mean it's not... not true.

Ah fuck! Ah.

Now you guys are never
going to believe me

because I said
it was true right away.

But no, no, no, that's...
that's not true.

But does anybody know
if you admit to something

like taking bribes

and you give all the money
back, for instance,

does that mean that
you could keep your job?

Ah! What a crazy
hypothetical question.

Where do I even come up
with this stuff?

And nobody ask me
if I'm cheating on my wife,

because I am. Ah! I'm kidding.

No, no. Shit!

And one by one,
nearly every participant

in the race was disqualified
for sending the bribe money.

Of the 170 riders entered,
only five did not send checks.

With only five riders left,

it seemed the Tour
would be canceled.

I didn't pay Ditmer.
What I to do?

But if-a they end the race,
then I am punished for what?

Why punish me?
Look at me.

You put a little coke-a
in your nose, take a shit,

have great sex,
wake up-a the next day,

and you are
like a... champion.

No, I would never do that.
Are you crazy?

In an unprecedented decision,

the UCI has decided to allow

the Tour de France to continue

with only the five
remaining cyclists,

the final five, which I
am dubbing The Fab 5.

You heard it here first,
ladies and gentlemen,

these five riders will forever
be known as The Fab 5.

Not to be confused with the Fab Five,

the Michigan basketball team who
ultimately became much more famous.

Who's that?

That's Chris Webber.

- What?
- From the wrong Fab Five.

Well, fuck. Who... why did...
why did you bring him here?

I don't know.
Somebody fucked up.

What are we supposed
to do with this guy?

Just wait till he goes to
the bathroom, then we all leave.

Here we are, Stage 2,

Tour de France!
It's a 250 kilometer ride

through flat plains
from Basel to Nancy.

Here we are,
Tour de France, day two,

and I'm riding
right alongside the riders,

getting the scoop straight from
the horse's mouth, so to speak.

And to no one's surprise,
it's JuJu in the lead.

I was really impressed,
what a great rider Rex was.

I mean, he was right there
in the front of the pack

most of the time
with that microphone.

He was riding with the greatest
cyclists in the world.

Well, it's only day two.
Don't kill yourself.

Got another three weeks to go.

I'm-a no kill myself.

I'm-a never die,
not on a bicycle.

That is a sure thing.

And JuJu didn't die that day,

but he did eventually,
as you know,

because we showed it
to you at the beginning.

But that day, he lived
and won the yellow jersey,

then celebrated that night
with a well-earned massage.

Each night, the depleted muscles

must be softened in readiness
for the torture ahead.

The riders' bulging,
shaved quadriceps

and smooth, taut hamstrings

require deep tissue massage

with the finest oils available

and strong fingers.

All that built up lactic acid
can finally be ejaculated.

After that, I passed
out, but not before,

I remember, making
everybody promise

to take turns riding up front

so the rest of us could draft.

You gotta take it down a notch out
there, JuJu. You're going too hard.

Marty's right.
It's just the five of us.

Yeah, we gotta work together,

and all start drafting
for each other.

One of the most important
elements of cycling is drafting,

and that's when the cyclists take turns
breaking the wind at the front of the pack.

It's much harder
on the rider in the front,

but everyone behind him
expends way less energy.

What the fuck, dude? We said
we were gonna take turns in the lead.

Yeah, well, it's not my turn.

Well, it's not my turn either.

JuJu, you take the lead.

I'm like, "Dudes,
what happened to the plan?"

You know, nobody wanted
to do the work.

Everybody's just slowing down.

You know, there's
an old saying in Nigeria:

Is there no honor
amongst blood diamond thieves?

I think that applied
in this case.

No one would ride in front, so...

so we were all competing
to be in the back.

Over the next seven days,

the riders crawled
across France,

each unwilling to take the lead.

Suffice it to say,
during this section,

the race was boring.

Here we are, stage nine,

the monotony continues.

Now being passed by an old lady.

Slim, you've done an amazing
job, riding slowest today.

How are you holding up
at this pace?

You know, Rex, riding like this has given
me a chance to really stop and look around.

Yeah, I mean, look where we are.

It's beautiful out here.

Right. Sure.

Yeah, so, what's next for you?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, Rex.

Hold up.
Hold up. Hold up.

Hey.

That's where I met Fabienne.

Oh.

Yeah, excuse me for one moment.

I gotta see about
something over here.

Right.

That's Slim Robinson,
taking a moment

to really enjoy life.

I totally understand
what Slim did.

Sometimes you just
need a time-out.

But the slow riding
suddenly came to an end

when a rowdy fan
awoke a sleeping giant.

What the fuck did you say to me?

Today a man tell Gustav
I cannot ride fast,

but I can ride very fast.

- I will now field questions.
- Gustav!

Gustav, my question is,
can you ride fast?

Fuck you! Next question.

Yeah, hi.
Can you ride fast?

Fuck you! Tomorrow I will
ride incredibly fast

and prove all of you wrong!

The race starts now!

And Gustav Ditters making
good on his promise.

The race starts now.

He is absolutely tearing up the
Pyrenees like a man possessed.

Even taking into account
the past 10 days' rest,

this performance
is off the charts!

I do not know
what has got into this guy.

No one knew what had gotten
into Gustav Ditters that day,

but many suspected
something had, literally.

Setting records is standard
protocol for the Tour de France,

but when you blow records away
and burn up a mountain

at a pace most sprinters
achieve on flat land,

suspicions arise.

Hey, come on.
How do you beat

a man on drugs if
you're not on drugs?

Wait. Did you just
admit to being on drugs?

JuJu wasn't the only one
suspicious of Gustav's new-found energy.

Monsieur Ditters, we are police!

It is not blood.
It is not blood.

It is Gatorade.
I will drink it now.

Give me the Gatorade!

Give me the blood!
Give me the blood!

Blood doping. Most people
are familiar with the term,

but how exactly does it work?

To understand doping,
we must first understand

the function
of the red blood cell.

Hi, I'm a red blood cell,

and it's the most common type
of blood cell in your body.

That's right, my boy!

Our job is perhaps the most
important in the bloodstream.

We are the delivery men,

delivering oxygen to all
the cells of the body.

We work alongside
the other blood cells,

like platelets...
Hey-oh!

Who are the construction men...
Ow!

And the white blood cells, who
are the police force around here.

He's got a gun!
What?

Oh my God!
He's fucking dead!

All right, calm... calm down.
We were just doing our job.

Pigs! Pigs!

Let's burn
this motherfucker down!

Kill these white motherfuckers!

No! Don't burn my shop down!
I'm on your side!

Yeah, burn it down!

Stop! We're just
attacking ourselves!

It's full-blown AIDS in here!

The animator of the proceeding piece

was a woman named
Victoria Young.

I was originally an
animator for Sesame Street,

but then I got
fired from Henson,

because I couldn't
draw fast enough.

Sesame Street was also unhappy

with my creation of the
character Huey Black.

Heya, Huey! Do you wanna
play a numbers game?

Shut the fuck up!

Anyway, Gustav Ditters
was blood doping,

but not the way you'd expect.

Cyclists dope to get
their VO2 max levels up,

so Gustav figured, "Why
not add red blood cells

"from the creature with
the highest VO2 max level

on Earth?"
A cheetah.

Just because I have cheetah blood
does not make me a cheetah!

Cheetah. If I have
cheetah blood in me,

I am not cheetah, yeah?

I was never a cheetah.

The UCI should have
understood that.

If you put cheetah blood in you,
it wouldn't make you a cheetah.

What are you having
trouble with?

The way I say cheetah
or the way I say "cheat-ah"?

Whether it was effective or not,

Gustav did add a foreign
substance to his body.

And for doing so, he was
disqualified as a cheetah.

And the following day,
the field narrowed even further

when JuJu Peppi took
his fatal tumble off a cliff.

Holy shit!

- Oh man!
- It ripped his dick off!

People dope. Yeah.
They risk their lives,

but, you know, this is a sport

with literally hundreds
of dollars on the line,

and dozens of fans.

The... stakes are medium!

By stage 14,
Marty and Adrian were

the only riders left
in the race.

Slim Robinson was still back
on the outskirts of Marsan.

I love it here.
Stopping the race

was the best decision
I ever made.

Just been working
the farm with Fabienne.

We produce dairy here...
milk, yogurt and cheese.

You know, I love tending the
land, milking the cows,

fucking the shit outta Fabienne.

It just all really suited me.

I still ride a bike every day,

only now it's to
deliver our dairy.

Only thing I'm racing now is
the expiration date on our milk.

It should be noted,
though, that I am probably

the first black
French dairy farmer.

Number one, baby.

Thus, unbeknownst to Marty,

he found himself in cycling's
first battle of the sexes.

It was just down to
the... to the two of us,

real competitive,

uh, and then something
weird happened.

I started to notice, like,
little things about him,

and started to feel, like, "I
want to get to know him better,"

or something like that,
and that was strange,

'cause I should've
been focused on winning.

And I have to
say, Marty and Adrian,

really seem to be enjoying each
other's company out there.

I think maybe Marty knew I was
woman somewhere deep inside him.

And here we go. Looks like
we're finally getting a race.

No, they're pulling over
for a break.

What the hell is this?

If I didn't know
that he was a she

before we went behind that wall,

jeez, I sure did after.

- Oh yeah. Oh God. OUI!
- Oh yeah.

Oh man.

Oui!

Most hard-core
cyclists know

that cycling was invented

so that men could
fuck in the hills.

I promised to keep her secret

just between us,

and in so doing, I became
something of a gay icon.

Marty and Adrian became the first
publicly out gay athletes,

while simultaneously being
in a heterosexual relationship.

Their romantic tryst

was well-documented.

Most beautifully covered
by the French news channels.

The way the French cover their
sporting events is gorgeous.

I'll watch French
sports all the time

just to kinda brainstorm new
ways of shooting things.

Hey!

The France 2 coverage
of the 1982 Tour de France,

it wasn't just
impressive footage

for a news team to capture.

I call it groundbreaking
footage for film, period.

This wasn't the French new wave.

This was the French news wave.

Don't put that in the movie.
That, um...

It's too good of a line.
I want to get it right.

This wasn't the French new wave.

It was the French news wave.

That was it.

We tied a rope to our bikes

so... there would be
no winners

and there would be no losers.

We would always be together.

Well, to see Marty in the lead

and in love made me so upset,

because I hated Marty Hass.

There. You talking
about Marty Hass?

Yes.
Fuck Marty Hass!

Fuck Marty Hass! Fuck him!
Fuck him!

Stage 19.
Just two days remain

and interest in the Tour
has dwindled nearly to nothing.

No spectators line the streets.

Passing cars have absolutely no clue that
an event of any kind is taking place.

In fact, at this point, I have
no idea why we're even out here.

I'm just a guy on a bike
following a homosexual couple

who have tied
their bikes together.

And to no one's surprise,

Marty and Adrian shared
the yellow jersey that day.

Here we are, the beginning of the
end of the 1982 Tour de France,

the 187-kilometer ride
from Fontenay-sous-Bois

to the finishing line
at the Champs-Elysées.

Excuse me a moment. Just getting
word from the home office.

Yeah?

And just when
you think it's over,

there's some shit
that's about to go down.

That's bonkers! Well, some interesting
new developments in the race.

The UCI has just informed me

that technically, since I've
ridden every stage of the race

and had to register as a cyclist
to bring my bike on the road,

I'm eligible to win this thing.

What? And I
think I just might.

A perfect backflip from Rex!

Whoa!

And it's a matching
pair of tail whips

from the lovebirds. Whoa-ho!

And it appears Adrian is now
untying the rope for some reason.

No! Adrian, what are you doing?

It is the only way, Marty.

We can do this together.
No, you do it for us, Marty.

I love you. Je t'aime.

No! Adrian!

Je t'aime!

I had no fear
when I ran into Rex,

because my heart
was just so full,

full of love for Marty.

I could feel nothing else.

In fact, I could feel
nothing at all,

because I was also on...

very much... Oxycodone.

Whoa! The dude was a chick!

Adrian Baton is, in fact, a woman.

Well, that moment
really set the groundwork

for a whole genre of
cross-dressing sports films...

Just One of the Guys,
Nobody's Perfect,

Ladybugs, Juwanna
Ma... Juwanna Mann

is, I think,
one of the best films.

It's arguably the best film.

And that's not all.

It appears Rex
Honeycut was riding

with an engine in his bike.

I guess that explains
how he kept up with the pros.

It was all Marty, all
alone, heading into Paris.

It was... it was heartbreaking
to try to go it alone,

but I had to try
to win for Adrian...

otherwise her sacrifice
would've been for nothing.

An African was going to
win the Tour de France!

And for a brief moment...

I loved Marty Hass.

And here's Marty Hass
approaching the finish line.

He will be the champion of
the 1982...

Wait! What's this?
Ladies and gentlemen,

Slim Robinson is back!

Even though life
on the farm was perfect,

I couldn't get cycling
out of my head.

Slim is
moving at an incredible pace

on his cruiser!
He's caught up to Marty!

But now it's Marty
giving a strong push!

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are in
for an incredible finish!

They are absolutely neck
and neck right now!

Getting closer!
Getting closer!

This is one
for the record books!

And the winner is...

Slim Robinson by a long shot.

It looked really close
from the other angle,

but no, it was not close at all.

Those defocused lenses
can be really deceiving.

I still get emotional
when I think about it.

I mean, I was the first black
man in the Tour de France,

and I won it.

This is the most important shit
that has ever happened ever!

Fuck Jackie Robinson,

and fuck Marty Hass
with his fake African ass!

Guess what else?
I can make cheese, yo!

I make some good cheeses.

Was I happy that a black man
won the Tour de France?

This is the first
I'm hearing about it.

Somehow, Marty Hass

found a way
to fuck us over again.

You know, I think it's a
bit of a shame that...

that an African
couldn't have won that race.

It was a very fucked up year
for bicycle riding.

Cyclists are hunks.

I still really don't love
watching cycling.

With the upper body of an alien

and the downstairs of a horse.

What really got me invested in the
'82 Tour were the characters.

With only five guys, you really
got to know each of them.

You really cared. It was just super
strong character development,

and the whole thing,
like, really played out,

like, a really
well-written script.

I won the Tour de France,

and I did it with nothing
but my own blood,

sweat, and tears,
and extra blood!

Oh shit.

It was a tough day.

Lost the race, lost my girl,

and I haven't seen Adrian since.

No, I never, uh...
I never did see Marty again.

Um, my crashing into Rex

was considered manslaughter,

since he died, you know?

And for this, I received...
35 years in prison,

so...

It was worth it...

because I did
what I set out to do.

I proved that a woman can cheat
at cycling as well as any man.

That's something for
people to think about

from this anonymous guy.

My parents bought me
the bike out of van,

but they didn't know
the bike was stolen.

And then one day, I'm
just riding to school,

and then I'm getting
the living shit

beat out of me.

And that's what
it's like in Africa.

Like, sometimes they'll
run out of Nerds candy.

Have you ever had that? I was
like, "Where's my Nerds?

- Where's my Nerds?"
- A Nerds shortage in Africa?

Right. Yeah, because
they gotta ship 'em in,

and I'm like, "Dad!

Where's my Nerds?"

I'm not a milkman.
I'm a cyclist.

You're not taking this bike!
You tell Slim's uncle

Slim is back on the Tour!

Who is that?

Jackie fucking Robinson!

Big news at the Tour de France,

a fight has broken out,
and not surprisingly,

Austrian muscle freak Gustav
Ditters is in the center of it.

Here we have some footage of
him grabbing Jabin Dolchey.

He used Jabin's flailing legs

to kick other riders
in the face.

Stupendous. I'm Mick Porterhouse
and... Woo!

Oh no! My legs
are getting all shaky, man!

Hey, hey, hey. Slow down, man.
He can't take that.

Take it easy on him! I think
I'm gonna evacuate my bowels!

Just go with it, Marty! Ride the wave!
That is not helping, Slim!

Call my Dad!
Basta!

Call my Dad, man!
Call his-a papa!

After that...

I rocked a trifecta,
and I passed out.

Oh, cool, yeah.

Oh, that's when you, um, puke and
shit and jizz at the same time.

What's a basketball player
look like?

We don't have that in Napa.

That's a basketball player?

Jesus!

That makes me even hornier
than the picture of a cyclist.

Oh my shit, he is fine!

What the fuck is in his shorts?

That was just a shocking
moment of television.

It was ferocious
and full of electricity.

It was... felicity.

When you put a crazy person

in charge of the Tour de France,

crazy things will happen.

That was Ditmer Perten.
Was that "Perten"?

That was Ditman Kirkman.

That was Ditmar Perper.

I mean, how the fuck do you say this
guy's name? What was his name again?

That was Ditman Klerker.
That was Ditman Klerken.

That was Ditmar Klerken.
Ditmen Klirken.

Ditman Klerker... Klerken.
Ditmen Klerken.

Ditman Klerker. Ditmen Klerken.
Did I get it?

Ditmen Klerken.
Ditmen Klerken.

That's his name, okay.
But he was crazy, though.

Well, Tour's over.

Time to go kill myself.

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