To win Paris–Rouen, my father had to show muscular power, courage and determination and intelligence. The Place de l'Étoile of the Arc de Triomphe was again the scene, at seven o'clock in the morning... The pedal-driven bicycle was now established and 325 riders had entered for the 83-mile race to Rouen. The organisers were scared of starting them all together, so split the field into two groups – a little girl of five made the draw. My father was the race favourite; second favourite was Castéra, who was second at St Cloud; third favourite was an English visitor, a student from Cambridge named Johnson, who had won races at home. My father was now considered so much a friend of France that he was being called 'The Flying Parisian'.