The Tour de France caravan is moronic, dangerous fun

The caravane publicitaire is ostensibly stupid. It’s a parade created by and for race sponsors that goes off two hours ahead of the riders. The floats are well done, but the pandering isn’t even thinly veiled. As it crosses the finish line, an emcee extolls the virtue of Cochonou saucisson and Haribo candy, and would have you believe that eats both on an hourly basis. Sponsors range from all-purpose cleaners to off-track betting, and the emcee would also have you believe he’s an obsessive compulsive neat freak and degenerate gambler.

None of this out of character for the Tour de France, however. The race was founded as a publicity stunt, when a journalist for a struggling magazine called L’Auto approached his editor, Henri Desgrange, with the idea of sponsoring a race that would take place around France. The original Tour de France was absurdly difficult -- one stage was 471 kilometers long -- and just 21 of 60 riders made it to the finish. The event was a massive success, however. Desgrange soon had something much more than a support system for his publication.

Desgrange was the still the Tour de France’s race director in 1930 when he concocted the idea of the caravane. It more or less hatched in its present form. A chocolate company, Menier, was the caravane’s first sponsor, and rode ahead of the riders handing out free samples, exactly as companies do today.

The difference in modern times is added lunacy. The caravane careens up to 50 miles per hour through the departmental roads connecting villages along the stage route, passing roadsides packed with spectators. As they zip by, pretty male and female models throw free samples from over the side, pelting everyone. The Haribo samples actually stung. In 2000 and 2002, children were killed after stepping in front of the oncoming vehicles.

But the weirder thing may be the excitement the caravane incites. Adults chased each other and hopped into ditches for free key chains and madeleines. They were more than happy to show off the wares. One man and his son filled two Skoda hats with gifts. Le Tour proudly claims that 47 percent of those who attend the Tour de France come for the caravane alone.

Which seems high for a cheesy production, until it hits you that you’re actually having fun. Stupid fun, admittedly, and maybe the whole thing is a little insidious on some level. But love it or hate it, you can’t say the caravane doesn’t keep with the spirit of the Tour.