Glenelg to Victor Harbour. A flat stage, with only one hill.
Team Condor has spent most of last night talking tactics.
And washing their kit.
This is what happened:
After four days I reckon I should rinse out my jersey, says Sweezus.
Do mine as well, says Arthur.
Okay, says Sweezus. Want yours washed, Philip?
Ja, tak, says Philip.
So Sweezus throws the three jerseys into the washing machine, and they sit down to wait, eating protein balls and peanuts, drinking water, and talking race tactics.
I'm not worried about Richie, says Sweezus. He's focused on Sunday.
Who then? asks Philip Norgaard.
Impey, Bennett, Ewan, says Sweezus.
Nizzolo? says Arthur.
Why Nizzolo? asks Sweezus.
Don't worry, says Philip. I'll get you in a perfect position.
Ding! Clunk! The washing machine stops at this moment.
Sweezus pulls out the jerseys.
They can dry on the backs of our chairs, says Sweezus. Lean forward.
Arthur and Philip lean forward.
Now we can't lean back, says Arthur. Let's go out for a beer.
Wait a tick, says Sweezus. There's something in the back pouch of my jersey.
He pulls out a sorry wet thing.
We can all guess what that is. The Lucky!
And it's ruined. It looks more like a malevolent two pupil-eyed lizard than a duck.
......
So today, even though Sweezus has recovered his Lucky, he does not win points.
Not for intermediate sprints, nor for King of the Mountain.
And the stage winner is Giacomo Nizzolo
No one expected that.
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