By Emery Paquette
  

  The top is down and Ricky Lebarra, our camera man is standing and hooting in the backseat. While losing him on the road to the Velodrome will certainly be an unmitigated disaster, we are already late for our appointment and with $6000 already paid in full for our three hour slot, time is of the essence.
  
  Next to him and directly behind the driver Pierre is the lanky frame of Dederick Hasselbaink. The Dutch rider from the little known Oekiewakkie Cycling team has agreed to let us document his attempt at the hour record this fine day.
  
  And fine indeed it is. The weather forecasted intermittent drizzles this coming Monday but it is still the weekend and the sun is out and about. Hasselbaink's custom bike is strapped onto the van following us closely behind but apart from our two vehicles, there is little traffic on the road at the moment. We are outside the city limits for now, on the way to the Zyte Velodrome 20km on the outskirts of Aalborg.
  
  The Oekiewakkie team is by no means a top level cycling team, but they have managed to scrounge together enough money to book the Velodrome this afternoon and have a crack at the local hour record. Hasselbaink is not expected to match the time of disco cycling's Sebastian Quander, much less Solomon Henschel's (Team Whalers) world record set in Vancouver. However, this is as much a publicity stunt as a chance for Hasselbaink to stretch his legs. And that is where we come in.
  
  "I'm much more use on the cobbles really," the Dutch rider confides in me as we pull up to the imposing structure that is the Zyte Velodrome. Built by the cycling merchandise conglomerate that it is named after, the Velodrome has seen plenty of hopefuls turn up at its doors since the hour record competition was announced last season.
  
  Uso is already waiting for us in the shade as we arrive, looking distinctively worried. Uso Olivier is a member of Team iPower, one of the major Danish cycling teams. Hailing from Palermo, Italy, Olivier is here to support Hasselbaink and also act as an official witness and timekeeper. The two have been pals since their amateur cycling days and are soon chatting away in the corner as the crew lug equipment from the van.
  
  We are already eating into the first hour of the allotted time, but as long as the weather holds, it should be alright. Ricky is staring at the clouds in the sky though, worriedly stroking the caterpillar of a moustache he is trying to grow. I don't have a heart to tell him to get a move on. The very reason we were late was because he had misplaced his camera in the first place.
  
  We set up in double quick time as Oivier and Hasselbaink fuss over the bike. Soon, everything is set up and the automatic timekeeper is reset. One last piece

of advice from Olivier and the Oekiewakkie rider is ready to go. At an altitude of only 2m above sea level, Hasselbaink will have trouble reaching the top speeds that riders can manage in Vancouver and Munich, but with a little luck he should post a decent result.
  
  As the gun goes off, Hasselbaink leans into the wind and takes off, powerful downward strokes of his legs propelling the bike forward. Olivier nods approvingly as Ricky almost runs into the back of him in excitement. A small crowd of locals have also gathered to watch the proceedings, among them a little boy who seems more intent on getting Olivier's autograph then watching the man on the track.
  
  The first half an hour speeds by, with Hasselbaink completing around 23km of track. It is a respectable showing so far, but only if he can keep it up. Olivier offers up an observation that his mate has perhaps gone too fast in the opening 10 minutes.
  
  "He's starting to slow a little. But then again, he's not used to track cycling, so that was to be expected.
  
  "Inexperienced riders often waste a lot of energy building up speed at the start before setting into a rhythm and then realising halfway in that they had better start conserving energy."
  
  The sky is turning darker by the moment, angry clouds looming ominously over the Velodrome. Ricky is fussing over the camera, setting up some kind of tent over it in case it starts to rain before filming wraps up. Most of the locals have drifted away by now, some wandering up into the stands to have a kip.
  
  With two minutes left on the clock, Hasselbaink comes down the home straight and prepares for what will probably be his last lap. His face is set in a concentrated grimace, his helmet slightly askew as he goes all out around the corner. Olivier is munching on a Pølser and having a quiet laugh at his friend's expense.
  
  Hasselbaink has covered near 40km of track so far, nowhere near the record, but he is still pedalling furiously out there, highly noticeable in his sky blue and white racing strip.
  
  Just as he rounds the penultimate corner, disaster strikes. Perhaps he has cut the corner too finely, for his front wheels clip the rails and he goes flying. As medical personnel rush to his aid, he gestures weakly from a prone position, offering a weak thumbs up as the timer winds down.
  
  As Ricky and the rest of the crew busy themselves with the equipment, Olivier and I saunter over to check on the official result. 40.474km is not too shabby a result, though it could have been more if not for that dramatic tumble. Hasselbaink is fine and already hobbling around gingerly, nursing a few scrapes. The two riders trade joking insults as they make for the cars, their job finished here.
  
  As if on cue, the heavens open up above us.