My primary school teacher once poured a bottle of curdled school milk forcefully down my throat. Then I threw it up all over her suede shoes. I'd rather have drunk from the spittoon in Barney's barber shop.
It seemed romantic but also tragic - people would be winning but then lose it all or crash but fight on break bones but get back on their bikes and try to finish. Just getting to the end was seen as an achievement in itself.
