Ask an Induction Range

Note

While this advice column is geared toward entertainment, the information herein is true and accurate, based on real world use of a modern induction range. You may take this post seriously if you’re considering switching to induction cooking. If not, read on anyway for your own amusement.

Dear Induction Range,

I want to switch to your technology because I’m worried about the emissions from my gas range. My husband, however, refuses on the grounds that he needs a range that is perfectly responsive, meaning he can adjust the heat instantly. I’d probably just ignore him, or perhaps even divorce him, but he is a great cook (I mean, his crêpes are to die for). So tell me: are you as slow to respond as traditional electric ranges?

Emma S, Seattle, WA

Dear Emma,

I have great news: stoves like me are actually even more responsive than gas. But don’t take my word for it—check out this little video:

(Ignore the voice-over … that’s just an induction newbie trying to grasp the nature of my functioning.) Not only is the temperature change instant, but there’s a digital power level indicator right on the stovetop, facing up, so you don’t have to peer under the pan while turning the knob. As for crêpes, tell your husband he won’t have to futz around rotating the pan like he does now due to his gas jets not firing evenly … I do a much better job. Just look at this beautiful crêpe I made recently.

Dear Induction Range,

I’m thinking of switching to induction but I heard I’d have to replace all my pots and pans. I’ve seen ads that suggest that you need to have specialty cookware designed for induction cooking. Is that true?

Megan L, St. Petersburg, FL

Dear Megan,

If you have a bunch of aluminum or copper cookware, yeah, it’ll have to go. But anything steel will work, from a cast-iron skillet or Dutch oven to one of these modern stainless steel fry pans with an aluminum core. If a magnet sticks to it, I can heat it up (or more specifically I can induce an electromagnetic current in it, causing it to heat itself). If you’re worried about the cost, consider keeping an eye out for used stuff at thrift stores (and bring a magnet along!). My master has been using a cheap Cuisinart saucepan on me and it’s gotta be twenty years old. You might also consider that with the cost of dining out going through the roof, and with the pleasure you’ll have cooking with induction, you might as well invest in your cookware.

Dear Induction Range,

I heard that your technology involves an electromagnetic current, and that for this reason I could use you (or stoves like you) to charge my iPhone, if I set the control to simmer. Is that true?

Ken S, Seymour, IN

Dear Ken,

Did you also believe the hoax that you could make an early iPhone waterproof by downloading an app? (Please note: that’s a rhetorical question—don’t write back to answer it.) Let me be clear: don’t do that with your iPhone.

Dear Induction Range,

A chef I know says that real chefs will never use conduction stoves because they just can't put out the BTUs, probably because they're metric. Even still, can you compete with a big bertha gas burner?

Bryan A, Bellingham, WA

Dear Bryan,

Real chefs can roast an entire land animal on a spit but that doesn’t mean you can do that in your kitchen. And a restaurant might have a crazy setup with giant flames coming up directly from hell to heat up a wok to 750°F. So yeah, a real chef might not settle for the likes of me. But for the average Joe cooking at home? There’s no comparison between an induction range and a consumer-grade gas or traditional electric range. I recently overheard my master saying, “I can’t believe  I ever raved about that measly 18,000 BTU gas burner I had on my last stove. That thing was a joke.” And he’s not wrong. The first time you see how fast an induction range can boil water, you’ll probably burst out laughing.

Dear Induction Range,

Hey, Im Natalia I accidentally sent you a message. Did we know each other in the past?

Natalia M, Glendala, CA

Dear Natalia,

You sound hot! We should totally hang out. In fact … can I bake you a pie?

Just kidding. I don’t engage with fraudsters or bots.

Dear Induction Range,

My buddy has a portable induction hot plate. It's fine except that it has a really loud fan. The peaceful morning is ruined by the howling of this hot plate, like someone with a leaf blower right outside the window, or worse yet, the neighbor with his new pressure washer. I can only imagine it would be worse with a big oven with more powerful burners. And beyond the noise factor, I’m thinking that fan must be there for a reason... is induction cooking just really inefficient, with loads of energy being wasted in heating of the electronics that must be blown away with these powerful fans, like an AI server farm? Is it going to cost a fortune to run that stove?

David P, Aurora, CO

Dear David,

Who cooks on a hot plate other than a complete dirtbag? I think it’s only because induction is so advanced that anybody would consider using a hot plate version of it. I don’t know what setup your buddy has, but a real induction stove like me doesn’t require any special fan—in fact, because there are no emissions, the overhead fan you probably already have, with your old stove, would be less necessary. In terms of other noise, there’s a bit of a buzz you’ll hear when you first turn on a burner, especially on full power, but either it quiets down or you just stop hearing it. Some claim there’s a high-pitched whine, but that’s more likely somebody’s spoiled kid who doesn’t want to eat his vegetables. Perhaps dogs hear something, who knows. I will confess, though, that induction ranges often do cause one particularly irritating sound: the insufferable blathering of their owners about how great they are. I suspect this would eventually subside in any case.

As for efficiency, we induction stoves blow doors on everything else. The website energy.gov states that we’re up to three times more efficient than gas stoves, and up to 10% more efficient than conventional smooth top electric ranges, and that “this improved efficiency performance can result in lower energy costs as well as lower rates of air pollution associated with energy generation.”

Dear Induction Range,

It embarrasses me to admit this, but my teenager is a total stoner. This is probably why he’s extremely careless in the kitchen, driving me crazy with brainless stunts like leaving a pizza box right there on the stove! For the last several years I’ve worried he’s going to burn the house down. Could a stove like you help make my home safer?

Lisa S, Fairfax, CA

Dear Lisa,

In many ways induction stoves are indeed safer. For one thing, there’s no flame at all; for another, even if one of my burners is left on, it won’t generate any heat unless there’s a pot or pan on it. This isn’t to say that my burners never heat up; if you’ve been cooking for a while, my surface will get hot from the cookware on it. But my display shows which burners are hot. I would say there’s definitely less fire and burn risk, but you should still warn your son that if he boils coffee on me, and then drinks it too fast, he could burn his mouth. Because it sounds like that’s the kind of wastoid we’re dealing with. Also, you should point out that if he keeps smoking pot, he may well end up one of those sad sack adults who cooks his meals on a hot plate.

Dear Induction Range,

Not to give anyone any alarmist ideas, but is all that electromagnetic radiation safe for life? I heard one guy say it’s even scarier than 5G.

Steve R, Asheville, NC

Dear Steve,

The NIH suggests that a induction ranges could interfere with pacemakers. That said, the American Heart Association doesn’t include them in its (long) list of devices that cause interference. If you have a family member with a pacemaker perhaps you should do some more research.

I’ve also heard that stoves like me can interfere with digital meat thermometers, but this would seem an easy problem to solve: you could move the pot or pan while using the thermometer; temporarily turn off the burner; or get an analog meat thermometer.

My master wanted to test radio signal interference so he did an Internet speed test over WiFi with his smartphone six inches from one of my burners. With the burner at its highest setting, his download speed was 38.5 mbps and upload was 21.4. With the burner off, download was 49.5 mbps and upload was 23.2. Not a huge difference.

As for 5G, the only scary thing about it is that it enables faster Internet access so fools can waste even more time doing YouTube, social media, and doomscrolling. Anyone describing 5G as dangerous from a radio wave perspective should be either completely ignored or ruthlessly ridiculed.

Dear Induction Range,

I live in California. Can I get a rebate from the state or federal government if I buy an induction range?

Tracy H, Berkeley, CA

Dear Tracy,

Alas, as of this writing there is not currently a federal rebate program for this technology, and although California had one for Energy Star certified induction ranges, the state is “no longer accepting applicants” (i.e., has temporarily halted the program). Certain cities like Alameda and Sacramento have rebates, but not Berkeley. Sorry.

Dear Induction Range,

You seem to like to blow your own horn, but be candid with me: what are the cons of induction ranges?

Emily M, Boston, MA

Dear Emily,

The main con is the expense: this is a major appliance, and the really nice induction ranges (like me) can be fairly expensive (or “hella bank” in urban stove parlance). But I’m cheaper than a Tesla, and will save you money on energy, so try to have some perspective here.

Some people complain that they miss the visual feedback of watching the flame on a gas range as they adjust the heat. But I never bought that. You’re talking about bending over to peer under a pot or pan, and what about the parts of the flame around back you never see? I have an upward-facing digital display for each burner, right on the stovetop. No guesswork. No, it’s not romantic, but neither is scorched or unevenly cooked food.

Dear Induction Range,

Do ranges like you have a glass surface that’s hard to keep clean or requires special solvents for routine cleaning? My mom had a glass-topped stove and it was always a mess. (Come to think of it, gas ranges are usually pretty messy, too...)

Julie M, Topeka, KS

Dear Julie,

No offense, but I think your experience with glass-topped stoves says more about your mom than  anything. My glass surface is really easy to clean, with either a lightly dish-soaped sponge or a 50/50 water/vinegar solution. It’s easier than modern (but non-induction) electric ranges because my burners don’t get hot (other than from the pot or pan), so stuff doesn’t get baked on and you can even mop up while you’re cooking. And cleanup is way easier than taking the grille off a gas range, and fussing with the little burner plates etc. I did an octuple batch of Bolognese Ragu recently—a messy affair to say the least—and my master timed the cleanup: under six minutes to gleaming perfection.

Dear Induction Range,

My current gas stove works just fine during a power outage, or during Earth Hour, if I just light it with a match. What’s your strategy there?

Matt B, Temple Terrace, FL

Dear Matt,

You got me there. You’d have to eat a PBJ or a salad, or fire up the camp stove in the backyard. But are you going to select your cooking technology based on what works based on the edge case of no power, which might occur a handful of times per year?

Dear Induction Range,

Google told me that the induction stove top creates a magnetic field which induces a current in the pot... Does this make a cast iron pan stick to the stove with incredible force?

Bobby L, Kansas City, MO

Dear Bobby,

No … there’s really nothing to this notion, nor to ChatGPT’s claim that the magnetic field helps to hold a pot or pan in place. In fact, if one of your pots or pans is slightly warped because somebody once left it on heat with nothing in it, it might be prone to unintended rotation on the glassy-smooth surface of a range like me (though it’ll still totally work). So no, your pan won’t be stuck to the stove.

You should be aware, however, that cast iron pots and pans are a fair bit heavier than aluminum, and steel cookware with an aluminum base is also a bit heavier. I would consider this a benefit for most people—it’s like lifting little hand weights!—but could be a bit of a problem for the very elderly.

Dear Induction Range,

Are you hacking into my text messages? I was texting with a friend and suddenly got this message, within the same thread, that read, “Ha aggiunto un cuoricino a un’immagine.” That’s Italian, and so are you (as my husband, the guy you patriarchally call your “master,” keeps boasting about). What’s going on and why won’t you respect my privacy?

E— A—, Albany, CA

Dear E—,

I did not send that message. I think it was created by your texting app in lieu of an emoji posted by your friend, which didn’t show properly due to an Apple/Android compatibility issue. The literal translation is “Added a heart to an image,” indicating a heart emoji. I have no idea why the message was in Italian. Trust me, I don’t even have Bluetooth, much less WiFi. (If I did, though, I’d totally be hitting on that cute Samsung fridge at the other end of the kitchen!)

An Induction Range is a syndicated journalist whose advice column, “Ask an Induction Range,” appears in over 0 blogs worldwide.

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From the Archives - Lake Tahoe & Mount Rose Epic Ride

Introduction

If I still raced, I’d file race reports with my bike club and then post them here. Since I don’t, I like to do epic rides instead, and report on them. Lately I’ve done nothing epic at all, so I’m running a very old ride report from my archives. You should treasure this as a rare glimpse into the exclusive inner sanctum of an elite cycling community. (Full disclosure: it’s not so different than my typical bloggage, but man, I gotta try to keep your attention lest you wander off to watch “reality” TV.)

Pre-Tour-of-California Lake Tahoe/Mount Rose Ride Report – May 18, 2011

Since I didn’t even race Mount San Bruno this year, much less anything else, I’ll have to make do with a ride report. Three of us (C—, N—, and I) did a fairly epic ride near Lake Tahoe the day before what would have been Stage 1 of the Tour of California had it not been abruptly canceled literally at the last minute, with all the pro racers staged at the start line. (Why was it canceled? You’ll just have to read on to find out.)

The tale begins, of course, with dinner the night before. On the way up to Tahoe our family dined at a rather good taqueria called Talavera Cocina Mexicana. It’s on Solano Ave. Yes, you read that correctly: the little place like half a mile from our house. We got such a late start, we ended up setting a new record for how soon into a road trip we stopped for food. I had a carnitas burrito with cheese and guac. It was big and, well, tasty enough. Alexa had the mushroom quesadilla which was really the star of the show. Happily, the mandatory Parental Tariff policy stood me in good stead.

The morning of the ride, at 6 a.m., I had a PBJ: Alvarado bread with Adams organic peanut butter, the salted kind of course—not like the heinous, inedible Deaf Smith unsalted brand I grew up with, which came in like a 5-gallon drum and was so runny we called it Quicksand because you’d lose knives in it, so every time you got to the bottom of the drum there would be like six knives—and my mom’s homemade apricot jam, which is nirvana.

It was pretty chilly when we started at seven, and the spray from riding through several large puddles got my leg warmers wet. So I was cranky (like Hank with his diaper from that old TV ad). We tooled clockwise around the lake for a while and then headed into Nevada and took a left on Highway 431 at Incline Village. This highway took us up over Mount Rose, the summit of which—at almost 9,000 feet—is the highest pass in the Sierras (and higher than the Col du Galibier in France, though you shouldn’t for a moment think that Mount Rose even deserves to lick the Galibier’s foothills). My form was, as we in the suffering industry say, “El Crappo Grande.” I think that’s partly because I never seem to ride at my best in the cold, and partly because I’d donated two units of red blood cells about two weeks before and my marrow hadn’t yet replaced them all. Also, I suck.

N— dropped us climbing Mount Rose, and his reward was to have to wait around in the cold wind for us, all the heat leaving his uninsulated body. C— and I added insult to injury by asking him hang out a bit longer to snap our photo. He seemed just a bit tetchy about this, which warmed me from the heart outward. I’m small like that. It was 41 degrees up there but at least it wasn’t raining. You can see it was windy, though: look how the wind is puffing out our jackets (I hasten to point this out so you won’t think we’re just fat).

Happily, it warmed up a bit as we descended. We stopped somewhere to take a leak and fill our bottles, and I asked a friendly-looking fellow traveler for directions. He looked strangely familiar, so I gave him a big smile just in case I’m supposed to know him, but he totally gave me the silent treatment. He seemed really distracted and in fact wouldn’t even look at me. I peered over his shoulder into his road atlas for a bit before realizing it was just a book.

Naw, I’m just messing with you, I never thought it was an atlas. Of course nobody would rely on me for directions; C— had mapped out the whole thing beforehand. He said to watch for Joy Lake Drive, onto which we hung a right. This was supposed to connect us to … well, I never actually got to find out how it was supposed to connect up, because at the gate to a, well, gated community we encountered a stubborn security guard who wouldn’t let us through. He had a walrus moustache and a walrus physique and immediately made me think of the Pink Floyd lyric, “It’s too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around.” He gave an impassioned speech about how the filthy rich people living in the McMansion compound were so tired of the thousands of cyclists streaming through their community, burning their homes to the ground, enslaving their wives and children, and littering, that they closed the gates and won’t let any more of our kind through. He said there was a great bike trail, though, and gave us directions that showed him to be either dyslexic, stupid, right/left colorblind, or maliciously faux-helpful.

So we had to backtrack, up the No Joy road we’d come down, and then continued on to Highway 395, where we headed south into a brutal headwind (surpassed only by what C— dragged a few of you through last week). I would provide a map of our route but C— won’t grant me permission to follow him on Strava. [Note: over fourteen years later, he still hasn’t granted me access.]

My strength by this point had decayed from hopeless to lugubrious and it was all I could do to suck C—’s wheel, shamelessly and parasitically. It was inhumane how little work I did, but that’s okay because C— has been training a lot and seemed to be punching through the wind just fine. We got into Carson City and C— had a general idea there was some really cool bike route to take, but we couldn’t find it, and then we happened upon another cyclist. “Which way do we go?” C— asked him. The guy responded, “Where are you going?” If there’s a such thing as the polar opposite of a tautology, this was it … a notion I pondered stupidly for the next hour or so.

Thus, we ended up riding right through the main drag in Carson City, and a drag it was. The wind was ripping the flesh off our faces. As we passed a used car dealership with all its dumb balloons straining against their strings in the wind, I wondered if there were a convenient way to end my own life. Falling off C—’s wheel would have probably done the job, but not swiftly nor mercifully. Plus, I’d have died hating doing something I loved, which just seemed wrong, so I chose life. Life without parole, it seemed like. We stopped at a mini mart for water and some guy said, “You guys heading over 50? You got a long haul there.” We acknowledged that indeed we were totally screwed (though we used a more polite term). As the guy headed out the door he said, “Have fun in the race tomorrow.” As if.

So we headed west on Highway 50 over Spooner Pass, which those familiar with Spoonerisms might call Pooner Spass, thinking they’re funny or clever. It started off pretty badly because the wind still seemed to be in our faces, but then it shifted and we had a tailwind. Wow, what a relief. It didn’t help so much, but it left me free to drop off both N—’s and C—’s wheels without dire consequences. I’d have liked the company, of course, but at least I didn’t have to hear the squeaky chain that one of their bikes had, which was almost loud enough to drown out my wheezing. At one point I had to turn around because I accidently littered. Eventually I reached the top. Don’t we all? Here we are at the Spooner summit.

There’s not much else to say except the ride went on and on. I started to feel okay by the end, probably only because I knew I was almost done. I was barely coherent. When I tried to talk, often I would say the same word twice, like a strange form of stuttering. C— pointed out that on this bike path were painted instructions saying to ride right, walk left, which he felt was a very poor idea as it would lead to head-on collisions if heeded. At first I didn’t even know what he was talking about—I thought he was warning against slime in the puddles—but when I finally heard him right I thought his point was that it was backwards, that you should ride left and walk right, and only after several minutes did I finally grasp the lunacy of the instructions: it wasn’t a single rule applied to both directions, but actually one lane dedicated to riding and one two walking, regardless of direction. Dang. Anyhow, at 117 miles, with 8,400 feet of climbing, this was my hardest ride of the year.

During the ride I consumed four large bottles of energy drink, two energy bars, and four doughnut holes. The doughnut holes I bought on a whim at 7-Eleven at our last stop. By definition doughnut holes have zero calories, being nothing but a void, but I bought them anyway because they looked kind of tasty in a grotesque guilty-pleasure—nay, shameful-pleasure—kind of way. N— had totally bonked and actually looked sick (in fact his skin was slightly green, like a Vulcan’s) so I can’t tell if it was in the spirit of helpfulness or schadenfreude that I offered him some of the doughnut holes. He declined. I offered again. He declined again. I saved a couple for my daughters, along with the two Hostess fruit pies I’d bought but didn’t end up needing, probably because I’d just pounded a 20-ounce Coke.

Dinner was the gastronomic equivalent of an extended hip-hop mash-up where every single rapper on the planet jumps in to freestyle on the mic. While the men were out riding, the womenfolk had spent the entire day cooking. (This probably sounds sexist, and it’s an exaggeration, but after the beating I took on the road I need to take steps to rebuild my masculine dignity.) There was spinach lasagne, two kinds of enchiladas, salad (though I didn’t eat any), fruit salad (ditto), a big ham, and some other stuff. Then there were individual pumpkin pies with whipped cream, two kinds of ice cream, those weird cookies that have big chocolate disks pressed into them, and the mandatory parental tariffs I took of my kids’ Hostess fruit pies from earlier. I just sat there for like two hours straight eating plate after plate. (My wife has rightly pointed out that if I weren’t so thin, this kind of eating would be a truly disgusting spectacle.) As if C— hadn’t done enough work on the ride, he did the dishes while I just sat there. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank him for organizing the weekend and doing all the work.

The original point of this trip was to watch the opening stage of the Tour of California, but the strangest thing happened the night after our ride: it freaking snowed. As in, hard, and for a long time. In fact, Highway 80 was closed for a while. Look how much accumulated on my car, and how surly this has made my daughter. (Actually, this is her default expression. In fact she’s stoked because our cabin came equipped with sleds.)

The racers nevertheless assembled at the start line, but the snow showed no sign of letting up and they managed to organize a revolt. The organizers made noises about changing the start time and location, but ended up just canceling the stage entirely. Someone needs to remind Mother Nature that it’s May, and this is California. Oh well … at least my pals and I got a good ride in.

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Ask an O.G.

Dear O.G.,

I think driving a stick shift is a total O.G. move and should be respected. My wife says that for me to prefer this “outdated technology” is an “affectation” (her words). What do you think?

John A, Seattle, WA

Dear John,

I have both kinds of car. It’s useful to know how to handle a manual transmission if you ever plan to rent a car in Europe. I also happen to think driving a stick shift is more fun, but it’d be hard to cite that as an advantage to someone disinclined to learn. The important thing is that you mansplain the manual gearshift process to your wife, using terms like “synchromesh” and “double-clutch.” That should get her off the subject so she’ll stop insulting you about your “affectation.”

Dear O.G.,

How are you, a middle-aged white man, gangsta? I can’t believe you call yourself that.

Leslie H, Dallas, TX

Dear Leslie,

The “G” does not necessarily mean gangsta, or even gangster. I wouldn’t even say the “O” is necessarily for “Original.” And the name wasn’t my idea … you should talk to my publisher. (If you can get him to listen to you, I’d love to hear how you accomplished that.) By the way, this is by far the most common question I get. My eyes are rolling as much as yours, believe me.

Dear O.G.,

I’m guessing you’re a vinyl guy, huh?

Amanda T, Los Angeles, CA

Dear Amanda,

Actually—and I hope this doesn’t destroy my O.G. cred—I’ve never owned a record player. I remember a reel-to-reel tape recorder in the ‘70s (outdated even then) that my brothers let me mess around with, but for playing music I had nothing but cassette tapes until I was an adult. CDs came out when I was in high school. The first one I encountered was in my school locker; I was turning the jewel case over and over in my hands trying to figure out what the hell it was when my locker partner happened upon me and burst out laughing. I did buy a CD player when I was in college, but it was to replace the one I borrowed from a pal (so I could play borrowed CDs) which I unfortunately broke. I didn’t start buying my own CDs until my early twenties, but again, that’s not because I ever had records. (Well, I had one: the John Williams score to “Star Wars,” which my parents bought me to play on their stereo.)

Now, if a music lover still has the record player he bought as a teenager, and all his original records, plus perhaps a few select purchases to round out his collection, I’d consider that O.G. But when wealthy people buy modern turntables with multi-layer plinths, decoupled motor systems, and carbon fiber tonearms, and painstakingly replace their CD or MP3 collections with pricey records, that’s more of an epicurean thing than O.G. (Not saying it’s bad, mind you. Just not O.G.)

By the way, if you meant something else by “vinyl guy,” such as attire, you’ve got the wrong guy!

Dear O.G.,

Nothing says O.G. more than a real appreciation for a good wine vintage … am I right? As the oenophile I imagine you to be, what are your favorite harvests?

Terrence H, New Haven, CT

Notwithstanding my very sincere insistence that the G in “O.G” doesn’t exactly mean “gangsta,” I’m really not sure how a fine wine aficionado could be called O.G., even though a respect for tradition is inarguably O. In any case, I’m sorry to disappoint … I don’t know the first thing about wine (though I have tried my level best to fake it).

I’m guessing there’s pretty good overlap between wine and coffee lovers, so I will go ahead and share my opinion about O.G. coffee (even though nobody’s asked). First of all, its polar opposite is the Keurig, which ought to carry as much stigma as chicken nuggets. I consider pour-over to be the best way to make coffee. Until the 1950s it was the main method, but then instant coffee became hugely popular during the convenience-addicted post-war era. That lasted until the ‘70s when cheap electric drip coffee makers became available. Pour-over is becoming more popular, maybe even hip, but I think I can make the case that it’s pre-‘50s O.G. I grind my beans by hand (so I don’t wake up the whole family with the earsplitting noise of an electric grinder), and I use a cone made of porous stone, which isn’t an old technology but sure feels old.

Dear O.G.,

What is your absolute favorite O.G. move, and why?

Far and away the most satisfying O.G. realm for me is using—exclusively—a traditional double-edged razor. This is a product that’s far cheaper than its modern equivalent, does a better job, is better made, looks nicer, and is produced by companies that clearly have no interest in glib, glossy marketing. I’m so fond of my O.G. razor, I wrote an ode to it which you can read here. Thanks for asking!

Dear O.G.,

Getting back to an earlier reader’s question, about music on vinyl: for someone who doesn’t own a record player you sure seem knowledgeable about the modern technology. Do you know whereof you speak?

Keith W, Chicago, IL

Dear Keith,

Not at all, actually. You caught me … I’m a total poseur.

Dear O.G.,

What’s more O.G.: classical art (e.g., Old Masters) or pop (e.g., Warhol, Lichtenstein)? Obviously Leonardo da Vinci was a rockstar, but then, that’s so long ago. Is there an expiration date on O.G.?

Tricia P, San Francisco

Dear Tricia,

I think an endless debate could be had among those two art schools, not to mention all the other ones (e.g., modern, postmodern, contemporary) that would claim they’re the most O.G. I do not want to venture into that fracas. But I think the more important distinction, particularly because so much art isn’t seen in museums, is between human art and A.I. “art” as the latter starts to replace more and more real work, from street fair posters to advertisements to crap you can buy on Etsy. I’m sure you can already sense my position on this; for a full discussion, replete with a drawing challenge I issued to both ChatGPT and my daughter, click here. Suffice to say, A.I. can never be O.G. It’s the antithesis.

Dear O.G.,

I happen to know you’re a veteran cyclist. How does this mesh with your O.G. approach? Do e-bikes, electronic shifting, and disc brakes make you throw up in your mouth?

Robert S, Thousand Oaks, CA

Dear Robert,

I’ll start with your specific examples and then address the bigger picture. I think e-bikes are not only just fine, but probably inevitable for most of us … they may well extend the number of years (and hopefully decades) I can continue to ride. I’m also completely in favor of non-cyclists buying e-bikes for transportation, because even if e-bikes don’t honor the purity of traditional cycling (can you sense my “blah blah blah” here?), they do mean fewer cars on the road. Sure, go on all you want about what a menace these unskilled but fairly high-speed e-bikers present, but I’ll take a 15 mph impact from a 40-pound e-bike over a 25+ mph impact from a two-ton car. (It’s not like e-bikers have cornered the market on roadway incompetence and inattentiveness, after all.) But I will assert two caveats: 1) no kid should ever ride an e-bike (details here), and 2) e-bikes shouldn’t be allowed on nature trails (see here).

Moving on to electronic shifting, I do think it’s a solution looking for a problem, and though I’ve given it two solid auditions (click here and here) the earth didn’t move for me either time. But my next bike will surely have it (it being the new normal), and people seem to like it well enough. Same with disc brakes: I love them on my mountain bike, you can run carbon rims, blah blah blah damn, I’ve even boring myself here.

All this being said, these new road handlebars that flare out, and the goofy brake levers that stick out like chicken wings … they’re hideous. And what’s with the weird fork crowns on BMC road bikes? They look like the fork on a cheap mountain bike! Aesthetics are being sacrificed at the altar of performance and that’s just anti-O.G. So many modern road bikes so dorky, they can even make a guy like Julian Alaphilippe look like a dweeb.

You know who was the O.G. road racer, with a perfect bike to match? Bernard Hinault.

(Don’t even get me started on Jonas Vingegaard’s aerodynamic helmet.)

Dear O.G.,

I think part of being O.G. is just sticking to your guns and not following along with the status quo, like how Eminem won’t use Auto-Tune. Do you live by this kind of credo?

Wanda R, New York City

Dear Wanda,

I think there are two fundamental ways to buck the status quo. You can either observe the conventional wisdom, evaluate it, and decide to reject it—like Eminem—or you can be oblivious to modern trends and just bumble your way along doing whatever seems to work. My favorite example of the latter is my dad, who—despite having been a college instructor in Boulder, Colorado during the late ‘60s—was totally unaware of Birkenstock sandals and, decades later, after failing to observe three huge surges in their popularity, totally thought he discovered them, like they were some obscure thing.

Often I do stubbornly defy the status quo. I think I was the only teenager in Boulder in the ‘80s who didn’t have an earring; I never used Biopace chainrings on any of my bikes; and I eschew all social media (except, begrudgingly, LinkedIn), all in defiance of the norm. But other times I’m willing to follow the status quo but only after considerable delay, out of sheer ignorance. For example, in matters of music, I’ll be barely aware of a band or singer for many years until finally I start to wonder who it is I’ve been hearing, and hearing about, for so long, and then I’ll investigate. I discovered Eminem in 2003 (four years late), Sublime in 2011 (fifteen years late), and The Black Keys in 2023 (twenty-one years late). In the latter cases, I wasn’t defying the zeitgeist … I’d just fallen behind. You might say I was O.G. in the sense of “Oblivious Guy.” (Of course it’s hard to remain ignorant now that we have Spotify. I have a love/hate relationship with it … the ad hoc selections it plays after the end of an album often trick me into listening to really anodyne, soulless stuff for oddly long periods before I suddenly think, “What is this crap!?”)

I wouldn’t say I consider this late-or-never tradition a credo, but it does affect my life. Probably the biggest single effect of finding my own way, without regard to conventional wisdom, was choosing to major in English despite everyone around me (even then) assuring me that with that lowly degree I’d never get a real job. They were wrong then, and they’re wrong now, as I discuss at length here. (My younger daughter is currently earning her English degree, with minors in Art and Philosophy, and I couldn’t be more pleased.)

As for the day-to-day effects of this approach, a big one is how much I use the public library. I just looked at my loan history from the Berkeley library, and in the last 144 weeks I’ve checked out 289 items (books, movies, CDs), for an average of two items a week. That doesn’t even include what I get digitally through Kanopy, Libby, and Hoopla (details here) and from the Albany Library. In a society that’s thoroughly embraced Amazon, streaming platforms, and video games, I think libraries are 100% O.G. And yet I know plenty of adults who don’t even have a library card.

Dear O.G.,

What’s the point of clinging to all these established ways when A.I. is obviously going to change everything over the next decade or so? Preferences that might seem old school and noble now will just become outdated, outmoded, outmaneuvered, and over. Not to be a dick about it, but I think this has to be said.

Ron B, Atlanta, GA

Dear Ron,

You sound like the blowhards gleefully predicting the demise of printed books based on competition from e-books like the Kindle. Society needs a term for people like you … technophiliac, or maybe digitopian. Look, I won’t deny that A.I. is a powerful tool for making many tasks more efficient, but that’s not a purely good thing. I’m all for ChatGPT helping me with HTML scripting or making DNS routing changes, but its essays are a) inferior to a real writer’s, and b) dumbing people down. The very word “essay” is from the French essai meaning a trial, attempt, or test, deriving from the Latin exagium, a weighing or examination. The point of writing an essay is to explore an idea, create and test hypotheses, and ideally learn from the effort even as you’re crafting something others can read. The point of a teacher assigning an essay isn’t to educate herself on a topic via her students’ papers; it’s for the students to grapple with the difficulty of writing and improve their brains. At least, that’s my O.G. perspective. In a shocking New Yorker article I read recently, a college professor interviewed several students at top universities about their blatant use of A.I. to write papers for them, and the success they’ve had (at least, from a grade perspective) in doing this. Here’s a crazy example:

A sophomore at Columbia studying computer science told me about a class where she was required to compose a short lecture on a topic of her choosing. “It was a class where everyone was guaranteed an A, so I just put it in [to an A.I. platform] and I maybe edited like two words and submitted it,” she said. Her professor identified her essay as exemplary work, and she was asked to read from it to a class of two hundred students. “I was a little nervous,” she said. But then she realized, “If they don’t like it, it wasn’t me who wrote it, you know?”

These students might think they’re pulling a fast one, but what happens when they graduate and still don’t know how to think? How are they going to impress anyone during a face-to-face dialogue—whether it’s a job interview or a cocktail party—when they don’t have ChatGPT to generate insights and pretty sentences for them? No less an O.G. than the rapper Ice-T (whose fourth studio album, “O.G. Original Gangster” helped popularize the term), rapped about the problem of school dropouts trying to sound impressive:

How you gonna drop science? You’re dumb
Stupid ignorant, don’t even talk to me
In school you dropped Math, Science, and History
And then you get on the mic and try to act smart
Well let me tell you one thing, you got heart
To perpetrate, you’re bait, so just wait
Till the press shove a mic in your face…
And they ask you about the game you claim you got
Drop science now, why not?

Notably, he wrote that song in 1989, before an A.I. existed that could enable a useless student to fake his way through school. Sure, modern A.I. can help you get a degree, or program a computer, or write a basic email, but it’s not going to make you an interesting person. Ultimately, thinking for yourself is the real O.G. move.

Dear O.G.,

That last response? And your conclusion, “Thinking for yourself is the real O.G. move”? You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s pretty much the cheesiest thing I’ve ever read. I think in your case O.G. stands for “Old Geezer.”

Dana A, Albany, CA

Dear Dana,

I know. You’re right. You got me. I’m tired. I should really edit my stuff before I post. Looks like that pompous, overblown sentiment slipped past my publisher,  too. Sheesh.

An O.G. is a syndicated journalist whose advice column, “Ask an O.G.,” appears in over 0 blogs worldwide.

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Biased Blow-By-Blow - 2025 Tour de France Stage 14

Introduction 

This year’s Tour de France started off really well, with an exciting first couple weeks. I’ll recount those as part of today’s albertnet coverage of Stage 14, a day of massive climbing in the Pyrenees. I’m not going to lie: Tadej Pogacar (UAE – Team Emirates XRG) is once again making the GC (i.e., overall) competition boring AF. (If you’re not familiar with the abbreviation “AF,” go ask a teenager.)

If this is your first time reading one of my blow-by-blow reports, be advised that I am not a professional journalist, which means I don’t worship brevity, I don’t always stick to the point, I never bite my tongue when a rider is doped or being dopey, and I’m not bitter about being poor. And today, during a lull, I plan to have the uncomfortable conversation (okay, monologue) about whether Pogacar could possibly be clean.

Tour de France Stage 14 – Pau to Luchon-Superbagnères

As I join the action, Lenny Martinez (Bahrain Victorious) is cresting the hors categorie (i.e., goes-up-to-11) Col du Tourmalet, solo. You can tell he’s a great climber because a) he’s rocking the polka-dot jersey of best climber, and b) he’s first atop the Tourmalet, duh! He’s either starting to put his jacket on, or plans to ride the entire stage no-handed as a stunt, determined to make this Tour interesting.

The big news the announcers are recapping is that the rider sitting third on GC going into today, Remco Evenepoel (Soudal Quick-Step), was dropped and decided just to abandon the Tour. This is called grit. This is called humility. This is what it means to have a work ethic. Wait, I’m getting confused. Actually this is the absence of these things, obviously. In this replay, Evenepoel waves off the cameraman.

Rumor has it Evenepoel is abandoning because I hurt his feelings in my coverage of the Dauphiné last month. Is there anything to this rumor? Well, it’s been well established that most of these riders do read albertnet, some of them even while riding or racing. (By “well established” I mean I assume this to be the case.)

Behind Martinez, a couple minutes back, is a group of sixteen riders including the American Sepp Kuss (Team Visma - Lease A Bike) and Valentin Paret Peintre (Soudal Quick-Step). As Martinez takes this wet descent very cautiously, Kuss and Peintre drop the rest of the chasers and start closing the gap to Martinez pretty quickly. I guess descending no-handed just isn’t very aerodynamic.

Martinez reaches the base of the Col d’Aspin, still riding no-handed. You gotta admire his pluck. He must have made a bet with someone he could pull this off, and is sticking to it even at the risk of losing the stage.

The two chasers are working well together and have the gap down to less than a minute now.

Just over a kilometer from the summit of the Aspin, Martinez  is still riding no-handed.

Back in the main peloton, Pogacar’s UAE team sets tempo at the front, keeping this gap down. They’re apparently worried about Tobias Johannessen (Uno-X Mobility), the highest-placed rider on GC, who sits in eighth place overall, “only” 10:36 behind Pogacar. Is it that that’s not enough of a gap to protect Pogacar’s yellow jersey, this group being about four minutes behind? Or is it that UAE has decided Pogacar needs to win every single remaining stage of this Tour, just to further ridicule the sport after his total domination of this Tour, the Dauphiné, and the classics season?

Martinez summits the Aspin and gets max KOM points, plus a €9,000 bonus.

Kuss and Paret-Peintre catch Martinez on the descent and the three begin the Peyresourde. Martinez has evidently given up on his bet, and has his hands on the handlebars for the first time all day. He looks pretty dejected. Meanwhile, Kuss fights with something stuck in his teeth. I hate it when this happens. Your tongue gets all sore trying to get that food particle out. It’s distracting.

Most of the rest of the chase group has caught the three leaders. Not far behind is Simon Yates, one of Kuss’s teammates.

Now Thymen Arensman (Ineos Grenadiers) attacks the group! Only Martinez and Johannessen can stay with him. And now they’re dropped.

Back in the main bunch, UAE continues to drive the pace, with their rider Pavel Sivakov really suffering. They’re bringing down the gap to the chase group considerably.

Arensman takes the summit solo, unless you count my cat who is clearly jealous of the attention this race is getting.

Martinez beats out the others for KOM points, experimenting with riding one-handed to see how fast that might be. Seems to be working for him.

Behind, the chase group has split in two, with Kuss in the second group.

As the riders take the final descent before beginning their assault of the Luchon-Superbagnères climb, I’ll fill you in on what’s gone down in this Tour so far. Jasper Philipsen (Alpecin-Deceuninck) won the first stage, which was one designed for the sprinters. Stage 2, also a sprinters’ stage, was incongruously almost won by Pogacar, whose lust for wins is insatiable. Only Mathieu Van der Poel (Alpecin-Deceuninck) was able to best him, and barely. Tim Merlier (Soudal Quick-Step) won stage 3, and then in stage 4—a lumpy route that should favor a breakaway—Pogacar overhauled Van der Poel in the final sprint and won, which isn’t at all weird for the best climber in the world. Stage 5 was a 33-kilometer (20.5-mile) time trial which Evenepoel handily won, with the big news being that Pogacar took second, just 16 seconds behind, utterly destroying his main rival (to the extent that he even has one), Team Visma - Lease A Bike’s Jonas Vingegaard, who finished all the way down in 13th, 1:21 behind the winner. This result put Pogacar in the yellow jersey. The next stage was won by Ben Healy (EF Education-Easypost), who is a total baller. Pogacar won again on stage 7, just ahead of Vingegaard. Stage 8 was flat and Jonathan Milan (Lidl-Trek) took it. Stage 9 was also flat, and unexpectedly exciting because Van der Poel broke away with a teammate over 100 miles from the finish, and then went solo with, I don’t know, ten miles to go. He almost held off the chase but was caught less than 700 meters from the line. Heartbreaking! Tim Merlier (Soudal Quick-Step) took that stage.

Things got interesting on stage 10, with a group of five riding clear and staying off to the finish. Its best-placed GC rider, Healy, couldn’t manage a second stage win but took enough time to snare the yellow jersey, becoming the first Irishman since Stephen Roche in 1987 to wear it. Simon Yates (Team Visma - Lease A Bike) won that stage. The commentators were questioning why Yates didn’t drop back to help Vingegaard in the GC battle behind, but I think the answer is obvious: nobody can beat Pogacar anyway, so the team might as well go for stage wins when it can. This is of course sad, for a team built around the GC, but it’s the reality of the sport right now.

Stage 11 was cool too, because a two-man breakaway barely managed to hold off the peloton, in addition to Van der Poel, who went after them solo and very nearly overhauled them in the last kilometer but fell tragically short. You should check out the finale not only for its nail-biting finish (my spoiler notwithstanding) but also because the Eurosport announcer yells, “A stupid, stupid person on the left!” referring to some crazy fan who ran out into the road waving a flag, and who gets chased out of the way and then full-on tackled by a race official. It was one of the real high points of this Tour. Jonas Abrahamsen (Uno-X Mobility) took the stage, a first for his rinky-dink Norwegian team.

Back to the action: as Arensman tackles the final climb solo, Mark Soler (UAE) drives the pace for Pogacar. They’re not far behind the chase group now, and on a climb this long they may well catch everybody, so we can be treated to another boring and devastating attack from Pogacar. It’s almost impossible to imagine Vingegaard even trying to attack him … the Dane hasn’t had the legs at any point during this Tour. That’s not a dig against him, by the way. His legs are great, they’re just not superhuman-space-alien.

Getting back to my recap, Stage 12 was the official start of the boring AF phase of this Tour, with Pogacar predictably attacking and soloing to victory. Remember how that used to be exciting? Before it became rote? He took over two minutes out of Vingegaard but it might as well have been twenty. The next stage, a 10.9-kilometer (6.8-mile) uphill time trial, was super boring, with Pogacar winning again, taking another 36 seconds out of Vingegaard, who not only showed the futility of his GC hopes but wore a breathtakingly ugly helmet.

This helmet became the big news of the day. Lamenting it, I texted my online race correspondent, “Vingegaard needs to be punished for that awful TT helmet. What a disgrace.” My correspondent replied, “Loser helmet.” I responded, “Yes, and a failing rider. Sad.” Then a friend emailed our bike team saying how his wife, seeing a bit of the race footage, “said [Vingegaard’s] helmet reminded her of a cartoon character from Fat Albert , which show she watched as a kid,” and attached this photo:

Another guy on our club replied, “That character is Dumb Donald.  And, well, Jonas looks dumb in that helmet.” Fair point. That being yesterday’s stage, this concludes my recap. 

And now the yellow jersey group has both chase groups in its sights, and will surely catch them. I’m not sure 2:33 will be enough of a gap for Arensman by the end, if things heat up in the GC battle.

The chase groups now merge, with only 20 seconds on the main group.

It’s time to talk about doping. Could Pogacar possibly be clean? Last year he won both the Giro d’Italia and the Tour de France, which is generally considered impossible in the modern cycling era; the last rider to achieve this was the famously doped Marco Pantani all the way back in 1998. This year, Pogacar rode a full classics schedule, winning the Tour of Flanders, Liège–Bastogne–Liège, La Flèche Wallonne, and taking second in Paris-Roubaix, second in the Amstel Gold Race, and third in Milan-San Remo (a true sprinter’s race). Then he absolutely dominated the Critérium du Dauphiné, taking the overall and three stage wins and making it all look easy. His improvement since 2023 has been astonishing. This year he did the Hautacam climb almost a minute and a half faster than Vingegaard did it in 2022, and only 30 seconds off the all-time record set in 1996 by Bjarne Riis (aka “Mr. 60%,” referring to his ski-high EPO-fueled hematocrit). My rule of thumb is: if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.

But that’s not my entire case against Pogacar; for that we need to look to his UAE team director, Mauro Gianetti, who was investigated for doping as a rider after having a major health breakdown during the 1998 Tour of Romandy and spending ten days in the ICU. A teammate of Gianetti’s at that time, Stéphane Heulot, speaking to a reporter ten years later, spoke candidly about Gianetti, who had retired and moved on to managing the Saunier Duval team: “Doping is so ingrained in certain managers, like Gianetti, that they can't conceive of cycling any other way.” Ironically, Heulot asserted this while serving as the PR manager for the Saunier Duval team. (Presumably not for much longer.)

As described here, Saunier Duval’s results bear out Heulot’s skepticism: “In 2008, [Gianetti’s] team’s rising star, Riccardo Riccò, was arrested after testing positive for EPO, the blood-boosting hormone. Gianetti’s Saunier Duval team quit that year’s Tour and Riccò landed a 12-year ban.” Another rider on that team, Leonardo Piepoli, who’d already been kicked out of that Tour for “ethical violations,” tested positive for CERA the next year. Then, in 2011, Gianetti managed the Geox-TMC team, whose unsung leader Juan José Cobo came out of nowhere to win the Vuelta a España (beating no less a doper than Chris Froome), only to have his victory stripped years later due to “irregularities in his biological passport.”  So you do the math: a rider whose exploits seem extraterrestrial rides for a team whose manager had been investigated for doping as a rider and went on to head up two different famously doped teams. Hell, Gianetti even looks like a villain.

Okay, back to the coverage. Félix Gall (Decathlon AG2R La Mondiale Team) attacks the yellow jersey group! It’s a good move, but unfortunately he looks like a jackass because his handlebars are so narrow. It’s like something you’d see in a cartoon.

Gall goes straight past the chase group.

Gall sits ninth on GC, 11:43 behind Pogacar. So UAE might give him some leash, if they decide they can’t set up Pogacar for yet another stage wine. Did I mean win? Yeah, but I’m going to leave it. Even the word “win” has become boring. Adam Yates leads the chase for UAE.

Gall has 26 seconds on the group behind. He’s about two minutes behind Arensman, with five kilometers (three miles) left. He may have a shot … Arensmen looks like he’s really suffering, shoulders rocking.

One of the commentators just mentioned how strong Arensmen is on the long climbs, citing his “diesel” engine. This is commentator shorthand for how diesel engines, designed for compression ignition, utilize a much higher compression ratio (typically 14:1 to 25:1) compared to gasoline engines (8:1 to 12:1). This higher compression is crucial for igniting the fuel without spark plugs. Glow plugs, however, are typical in diesel engines. The metaphorical implication for cycling ought to be fairly obvious to just about anyone.

Back in the GC group, Vingegaard attacks!

I’m not sure it deserved an exclamation point because he’s already looking back, just assuming Pogacar easily handled it. You can always tell when an attack is in vain, when the attacker is looking behind instead of ahead.

Florian Lipowitz (Red Bull – BORA – Hansgrohe), who started the day in fourth overall, is trying to match the pace. Lipowitz is a baller, having taken third overall in the Critérium du Dauphiné last month and getting second in this year’s Paris-Nice. And with Evenepoel out, he’ll most likely make the podium and get the Best Young Rider award in this Tour.

Lipowitz is dropped, and Pogacar takes the front. And just like that, the two GC contenders overhaul Gall. Gall must have detonated.

Now it’s a matter of Arensman hanging on for the win. He should do it, as he’s got plenty of time, and if Pogacar is content to sit on Vingegaard, the two will just blob along until the end and not make up so much time.

As Arensman reaches the 1-kilometer-to-go kite, it looks like he’s peeing.

Arensman gets the win and does the “I can’t believe it” victory salute.

Now Pogacar will wait for the right moment to crush Vingegaard, who continues to look back.

Ah, and there Pogi goes. He easily overtakes Vingegaard and demolishes him in the run to the line.

Now Vingegaard is being interviewed, before he’s even had a chance to climb off his bike and put on a big puffy sweatshirt.

INTERVIEWER: Well, you attacked at least, which I think is kind of cute.

VINGEGAARD: To be honest, it was a hard day. One of the hardest mountain stages I’ve ever done.

INTERVIEWER: What do you mean “to be honest”? Do you normally lie during interviews? And would you expect me to doubt your assertion that it was hard?

VINGEGAARD: Congratulations to Arensman, he had a great ride today, and it’s nice to see somebody distinguish himself in some way, as opposed to what I did, which was just a half-assed attack with a lot of looking back, which you can see is all I’m capable of.

INTERVIEWER: Since you referred to today’s winner by his last name, instead of “Thymen,” I’m gathering you two aren’t friends? Would you say you lack for friends in the peloton in general? Kind of an introvert? Do the others bully you?

VINGEGAARD: If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go find a big puffy sweatshirt.

INTERVIEWER: Yes, go be alone now. Go find an armchair and a throw blanket and bury your face in a literary novel.

If you’re new to this blog, I should caution you that I tend to play fast and loose with these interviews. When they become boring, I tend to ad lib a bit. But Vingegaard really did say “to be honest, it was hard,” and did congratulate Arensman. Though not to his face. So maybe he is shy.

Now they’re interviewing Arensman.

INTERVIEWER: So, you won today. Obviously. How did you do it?

ARENSMAN: Well, I had good preparation—

INTERVIEWER (INTERRUPTING): Meaning you doped.

ARENSMAN: It’s my first Tour, I had to be patient, it was already amazing to be second on the Andorra stage—

INTERVIEWER (INTERRUPTING AGAIN): No it wasn’t.

ARENSMAN: Come again?

INTERVIEWER: It wasn’t amazing when you got second on that stage. It was perfectly inevitable. Somebody always wins, somebody is always second, etc. Had you won, I guess that would have been, well, remarkable, though really probably not amazing. Now, Martinez trying to do the whole stage no-handed, and managing to move into the KOM lead in the process … that’s amazing.

ARENSMAN: That’s not even true. You talk dog farts.

Here are the stage results. You can see Pogacar took four seconds out of Vingegaard in the final sprint.

And here is the new GC. Everyone moves up a spot because of Evenepoel abandoning. Lipowitz is now solidly in third, having taken around 40 seconds out of Oscar Onley (Team Picnic PostNL) today.

Now Arensman mounts the podium. I have noticed that the ASO is gradually returning to the podium girl tradition. For a good while, there would be just one podium girl, usually a fairly plain one in a very modest outfit, and not very close to the podium, with a dumpy middle-aged man on the other side, closer to the podium. It was like the organizers were distancing themselves from the tradition. But they’ve been gradually moving the podium girl closer to the stage, and putting a male model on the other side. This podium girl is watching Arensman and trying not to look perplexed, but he’s just standing there, not knowing what to do … she’s surely thinking, “Dude, aren’t you going to put your arms up?”

For the most part, they’ve also abandoned the tradition of the winner getting kisses from the podium girl. The rider instead just accepts the flowers with an awkward little head nod. The exception is Van der Poel, who either didn’t get the memo or can’t be bothered to comply. Each time he’s been on the podium in this Tour he’s given the podium girl kisses, and she hasn’t seemed to mind, and has in fact looked, to me, pleasantly surprised. The last time this happened the cameraman, thinking quickly, panned to a flashy blond woman in the audience, presumably Van der Poel’s girlfriend, to get her reaction. She was pretty chill about it.

Pogacar gets another yellow jersey and another stuffed lion. This podium girl is a real professional, managing to look legitimately happy when she must be freezing her arse off in that sleeveless dress while the podium dude is in a wool suit and Pogacar has a nice thermal cap.

And now Lipowitz gets his white jersey for Best Young Rider. I hope he doesn’t get signed as a domestique by UAE or Visma … I’d like to see him challenging the perennial favorites in the years to come. Note the mismatched blue of the podium guy’s suit vs. the podium girl’s dress. Funny story there: that’s actually a bridesmaid dress she almost threw away but saved for some reason, and now she got to wear it here!

Now they’re interviewing Pogacar.

INTERVIEWER: It looks like you practically phoned it in today, until your sprint where you once again humiliated Vingegaard.

POGACAR: The team did a super good job, I’m really really happy.

INTERVIEWER: When I asked you last year about carbon monoxide rebreathing, you denied any knowledge of it and replied, “I don’t know what it is. Maybe I’m just uneducated.” But then a day later, after your team admitted doing it, you seemed to suddenly remember and said, “I didn’t quite understand the question. It’s not like you’re breathing exhaust pipes in a car. It’s just a simple test to see how you respond to altitude training.” Doesn’t that seem like backpedaling?

POGACAR: Arensman deserved this victory with a super good race.

INTERVIEWER: I see you’re not going to answer my question. Next I suppose you’ll be talking about the weather.

POGACAR: If my nose were a little less clogged I would be really happy with today’s weather but when you’re a bit under the weather it’s kind of, this kind of weather, it doesn’t help, but always, when it’s like this, I have the legs.

INTERVIEWER: Are you literally claiming to be absolutely dominating this Tour even while you have a cold? Seriously?

POGACAR: I think I hear my mom calling.

Obviously I made up a lot of that, but a journalist really did investigate Pogacar’s (and Vingegaard’s) practice of carbon monoxide rebreathing, and you should click that link above. Note that in this case I recorded Pogacar’s words as close to verbatim as I could (until the end). He really did say he’s under the weather. Sheesh.

Well, that’s about it for the 2025 Tour … barring some catastrophe, Pogacar will win it in boring AF fashion. Best case, Vingegaard can at least get a stage win. Or a stage wine. Or maybe just another stage whine.

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