An unvarnished, yet fascinating story of a unique, iconic bicycle great, and one of the more unusual autobiographies I've read. With better editorial support (a broader perspective, less repetition, better vocabulary, and tighter editing), this book could have been a classic, but, it was a quick, fun, entertaining read nonetheless. What struck me most about the book, however was that: (1) a reader could conclude that Fignon was such a physical specimen, a legitimate freak of nature, that his success (winning the Tour de France twice, winning the Giro, winning multiple classics) owed little to hard work, discipline, determination, professionalism, and dedication to craft; (2) although Fignon was almost exactly my age, and recently died of cancer (and was dying of cancer while finishing the book), he makes no mention of his cancer or his pending demise; indeed, nothing in the book suggests his pending premature demise; (3) although Fignon appears to have strong feelings on the use of drugs in cycling, it is impossible to understand what lines he draws - he discusses drugs throughout, but seems utterly inconsistent and, frequently, incoherent, in discussing them; and (4) although Fignon discusses getting married, the birth of a son, and the demise of his (first) marriage, he never mentions the birth of his daughter, nor does he name or - in any way - indicate any relationship whatsoever with either of his children. Ultimately, a flawed, but interesting, autobiography of a unique guy in an exciting time and place....