This sport puts excitement in the driver's seat

Monday . . . race day . . . Stage 1 of the 2008 Tour of California . . . with Bissell Pro Cycling . . . in the parking lot . . . on the course . . . chasing the riders in their team car . . .

10:35 a.m., in a parking lot in Sausalito: Bissell rider Teddy Edwards on ways to mess with the opposition: "I like to take a crossword puzzle with me so later on when I ask some riders what's a four-letter word for 'bleeding from the eyes,' it really psyches them out."

10:53 a.m., same parking lot: Bissell mechanic Ben Oliver adjusts a nut on an Italian-made $10,000 Pinarello cycle. All eight Bissell riders will saddle up on a Pinarello. Oliver looks and acts perfectly fine. I don't have a clue.

11:02 a.m.: Three warm-up laps through downtown Sausalito. Glen Mitchell, Bissell team director and driver of a Dodge Vibe, is driving 55 miles an hour down Bridgeway to catch up to the peloton. It is a remarkable ride, especially with the cops standing there, watching.

11:17 a.m.: The race starts in five minutes but already a rider, not one of Bissell's, has to stop on the side of the road and, as they say, "to do a nature." He is discreet, as discreet as one can be standing on the side of the road in

Sausalito and urinating. Later on, in more secluded areas, 30 riders will do a "group nature."

11:22 a.m.: Stage 1 of the 2008 Tour of California begins with 136 riders, 38 cars, 10 motorcycle marshals, two ambulances and at least one police officer at every even mildly-threatening entry point for the next 96.8 miles. This doesn't look like a race. This looks like an invasion.

11:46 a.m.: The peloton, tightly packed, climbs Mount Tamalpais and is now descending U.S. 1 to Stinson Beach, taking the windy road at 40 miles an hour. "How to handle racing so close to each other," said Mitchell, a former pro cyclist who raced for eight years, "happens on a learning curve. And some don't make it, being able to ride in packs at that speed."

11:53 a.m.: All eight Bissell riders have headsets and can speak to Mitchell on his walkie-talkie. The peloton is averaging 22 miles an hour, slower than Mitchell anticipated.

12:03 p.m.: Medical car pulls alongside and gives Ben The Mechanic two pills, a blue one for motion sickness and a red one for an upset stomach.

12:14 p.m.: Tom Zirbel's front wheel needs replacing. Mitchell whips the Bissell car, fifth in line based on the previous day's finish, from the right lane to the left lane and hits the throttle. The right lane is the service lane and all cars stay there unless repairs or feeding is required. Just south of Point Reyes Station, Mitchell whips into blind curves, left and right, and races to Zirbel on the side of the road to replace the tire. There are four bikes on the car's roof and six tires inside the car. Oliver jumps out, replaces the tire. Most of the 17 team cars have passed. Back on the road, Mitchell guns it again in the left lane until he has slipped back into Bissell's fifth spot. Controlled chaos. It's a beautiful thing.

12:35 p.m.: The Bissell team has no illusions on what they are up against. "Our budget this year is $800,000," Mitchell said. "Slipstream's is $20 million-$25 million. Slipstream will spend $500,000 this year on drug testing. That was more than our entire budget in 2007."

12:52 p.m.: We make an unexpected stop. Ben loses it on the side of the road. "I've never been car sick before," Ben says. "I don't get it." Mitchell looks a tad concerned. This 96.8-mile course is rarely straight, has more curves than Angelina Jolie and all of them are taken over the speed limit, as team cars, medical cars, cocommunication cars, police cars and motorcycles continued to whiz past one another.

1:03 p.m.: "Richard England, Richard England," Mitchell says on his walkie-talkie to a Bissell rider, "your mother just called and wants to make sure you are eating right."

1:06 p.m.: A female's voice over the race radio to all team cars says, "The peloton is now passing through Marshall, population 50. The entire peloton is larger than Marshall."

1:17 p.m.: Most domestic riders, says Mitchell, make between "Zero and $30,000 a year. A quarter make $30,000-$60,000 and the top 20 percent make $60,000-$150,000. Almost everyone is on a year contract." Yeah, Mitchell says, you don't do this to make money.

1:31 p.m.: A quarter-mile past Tomales alongside U.S. 1 fans are picking up discarded water bottles, gel packets, sandwich wrappings and stylized fed bag containers. In other words, souvenirs. Mitchell nods knowingly. These fans know what they are doing, he says. "At the Tour de France," he said, "fans will go down the side of a mountain for a wrecked bike."

1:55 p.m.: The same radio voice says the peloton is still averaging 22 miles an hour at it passes through Valley Ford. Mitchell shakes his head. "That's pretty slow," he says.

2:01 p.m.: Ben Oliver is silent and slumped in the back seat. I ask him how is he feeling. He grunts.

2:04 p.m.: The climb up Coleman Valley Road begins. "We need to make this climb as easy as possible, guys," Mitchell says to his team. "Let's make it easy on ourselves. Let's get in a good position." He knows what's ahead: narrow, windy roads with little shoulder, with all those cars, motorcycles going as fast but not faster than those riders. All their climbs on the stage will total 7,990 feet.

2:06 p.m.: Petaluma's Steven Cozza, who is riding for Slipstream, is racing right on Slipstream's team car bumper. A foot behind. Maybe 2 feet. That's all. If the driver taps the brakes, Cozza would suffer the same fate as a bug headed to a windshield. "A lot of trust goes on here,' Mitchell said. I look in our side mirror and I see four cyclists right on our bumper as they climb Coleman Valley Road.

2:13 p.m.: Near the crest, standing on the side of a hill is an attractive blonde in an angel costume. Mitchell, who is from New Zealand, is pretty sure she is a publicity stunt. I say, nope, we dress like this all the time in California.

2:20 p.m.: The eastern descent of Coleman Valley Road begins. Within seconds Mitchell has his Dodge Vibe going 45 miles an hour through the curves with a single-file section of six riders just a foot from my right door. A foot! I mean it! I could see leftover gel. I saw sweat, especially mine. Six of them and our car slashing like snow skiers through blind curves.

2:22 p.m.: I tell Mitchell, "I have been around Infineon at 140 miles an hour but this is more hairy." Glen says you gotta have trust.

2:34 p.m.: "Dude, I need you to pull over again," Oliver says. Mitchell says he can't. First, there's no place to pull over; this is Coleman Valley Road which has the shoulder space of a thimble. Second, if Mitchell were to even take his foot off the gas, the three riders riding our bumper would splatter on our rear window.

2:35 p.m.: Onto the floor I empty the contents of a feed bag that would go to a rider and pass it back without looking at Ben. I tried my best not to hear what happened next.

2:39 p.m.: Mitchell says nonchalantly: "Things get really interesting when I'm talking on the radio, handing out water bottles while driving down roads like this one."

2:42 p.m.: Mitchell tells Edwards he wants him in the best position for the sprint around downtown Santa Rosa. "Ben (Jacques-Maynes) is my best rider," Mitchell says, "but I want to save him for the rest of the Tour. Teddy is my next strongest sprinter..

3:07 p.m.: The Dodge Vibe crosses Third Street and B Street at 60 miles an hour. It's Bridgeway revisited, except with more cops and people.

3:09 p.m.: Mitchell's phone rings. It's a friend from New Zealand watching the race on television. "Did you see me go sideways around that last curve? We are doing our three laps around downtown!" Cutting through the curves, following the lead riders, like a race car Mitchell's voice never changes. "I think I really have to go now," he tells his friend, "because I am racing around Santa Rosa with one hand on the steering wheel."

3:15 p.m.: The crowd is impressive. The Tour of Colorado, Mitchell says, is out of business because lack of interest. The Tour of California in general, and Santa Rosa specifically, he says, won't suffer the same fate. Yes, especially, I said, if they ever ride in a team car. Mitchell nods. Oliver? I didn't have the stomach, er, the heart, to see if he would agree.

You can reach Staff Columnist Bob Padecky at 521-5490 or at bob.padecky@pressdemocrat.com.