Tour de France 9: Vielha Val d'Aran to Andorre Arcalis - Seen It Before

Today starts off hot.

It's the queen stage, whatever that means.

Earlier:

Belle and Sweezus arrive in Vielha Val d'Aran.

Sweezus goes off to find Arthur.

Belle greets her beloved papa.

Belle: Papa!

Vello: Belle! Here you are at last! We've been desolate without you.

Belle: Why's that?

Marx: It seems you're better at coming up with nice snacks than I am.

Velo: He thought we could eat stew with our fingers!

Belle: Never mind, I'm here now. But I haven't had time to go shopping.

David (glumly): We do have several Power Bars, and some chocolate.

Belle: That's all right then. I'll organise a lovely picnic for tomorrow.

Sweezus returns.

Belle: What's wrong, Sweezie? Shoulder hurting?

Sweezus: No one knows where Terence is.

Belle: Good heavens!

David: Isn't he with a clown?

Marx: Arthur organised it. Don't worry.

Sweezus: Yeah well, Arthur can't remember what the clown looked like.

David: Let's be logical. The fellow's a clown. He'll be standing at the road side.

Belle: Of course he will. Thank you, David! I'll get hold of a motor bike. We'll find him.

She runs off to find a motor bike. Ah! A  yellow one. She hops on. Starts it up, and comes back to get Sweezus.

Vello: Nice bike, dear. Have I seen it before?

Of course he has. We all have. It belongs to the girl in yellow, who tells us the time gap.

But time is wasting.

Later:

The race starts.

Riders push ice down their backs.

Team Condor is having a good day.

Arthur: He wasn't that angry.

Pablo: No, he wasn't.

Gaius: No doubt he trusts clowns.

....

On the last climb of the day into Arcalis, a storm breaks.

Rain and hail. Horrendous conditions. The temperature drops to a low ten degrees.

Terence stands at the side of the road in a clown hat.

Water drips off the clown hat, and onto his toes.

The clown is wearing a raincoat.

Decide for yourself if that's fair.

Terence knows there's no point saying anything in English.

He scans the dark skies for his parrot. He stares down the road for someone he knows.

Tom Dumoulin rides past, in a hurry.

Achoo! sneezes Terence. Help me!

But Tom Dumoulin is Dutch.

And then, through the mist in the distance, getting closer and closer, a yellow motor bike looms,
buzzing and humming.

And the clown thinks: C'est la fille en jaune!

But we know it isn't.