Eddy Merckx is THE MAN. No really, he’s the coolest dude ever.

So the story goes like this. I was in Belgium last summer racing and on my second morning there my friend announced that he must go to Meise to the Eddy Merckx factory. Music to my ears! A week before I left for Belgium my beautiful Merckx MXM was stolen so the visit to the factory could have been a little bittersweet but it turned out to be a big step on the road to recovery.

The reason for our visit was that my friend who was an amateur racer rode a Merckx AXM and had repeated troubles with the area around the bottom bracket cracking while he raced over the bad roads and cobbles so common to Flemish racing. (disclaimer- I am in no way trying to sully the fine reputation of Merckx products. The guy riding the bike was, let us say, “strapping” and put out a good bit of power. He was certainly not your typical cyclist build.) In total, I think he went through 6 frames in one season, all of which were replaced with many apologies from the good folks at the factory with promises to look into the issue with R&D.

We hit the highway and made the short trip to Meise, pulling into a small alley. Even through my jetlagged haze the words Eddy Merckx on the side of a otherwise nondescript brick building hit me like an adrenaline shot to the heart.

The first thing you see upon walking into the factory is a signed World Champ jersey belonging to Lance, the frame was falling apart which for some reason made it even cooler in my opinion. “Oh, that old thing? Some American sent it over with a nice autograph.” The next thing you see is a small office type area with glass windows looking out into the factory. A handful of busy Belgians working with various frames, hundreds of which hung in neat lines. Sexy!

My friend put his beautiful but once again broken AXM on the counter and began his banter with the guy behind the counter which was frequently punctuated with “Godverdomme” and a crapload of shrugging, all native Belgian gestures. I let my eyes wander to my right and noticed a smallish showroom with many bikes orderly displayed on stands so of course I took a short walk to check it out. Museeuw’s bike in particular got me all sweaty and nervous due to the massive crush I’ve harbored on him for ages. And then it happened. Eddy, sweet sweet Eddy, was in his glass encased office on his little telephone chatting away while I stared at him like a slack jawed bike pervert. Perhaps I annoyed him because he averted his eyes and turned his head to the side a little as I regained my composure and walked back to the the front office.

A few minutes longer and a figure appeared in the doorway and a booming godlike voice (ok ok, just a voice) rang through the air. Holy MERCKX! He greeted my friend and joined in on the conversation about my friend’s cracked frame.

The gist of the conversation was this- The frame had been replaced several times before all due to the same issue. Each time they sent my friend away with a fierce apology and hopes that he would not have to return, but alas, here he was again! Eddy told my friend that they were redesigning the frame and would send him a brand new 2007 model when it was ready but in the meantime would once again replace the offending frame with a pristine new one. Someone went out into the factory to find said frame but returned shortly empty handed. Hushed conversation ensued. Computer records were checked. Frames in my friend’s size were not in stock and wouldn’t be for several weeks. A hush fell. Eddy spoke. “Give him mine.” The man behind the counter looked at Eddy questioningly. Eddy turns to my friend and asks him if he would mind taking his AXM in the same size and color for the meantime. HIS PERSONAL FRAME!!! I was flabbergasted! My friend accepted readily of course. Who wouldn’t want to ride Eddy Merckx’s personal bike, christened with the greatest cyclist of all times sweat and snot and whatever else was on it??? My head was spinning. Belgium is the Holy Land and Merckx is the pope!

Eddy’s bike was fetched from his attached home and rolled into the showroom. It glowed. Really. They asked my friend to allow them to switch over his components to the new frame and then they would send us on our way.

In the meantime his Holiness began a conversation with me, asking why I was in Belgium, he could tell that I was American and I gave him the rundown. My mouth must have been grossly dry from nerves because the next thing I knew Eddy was asking me how I liked my espresso. Off he went and back he came with the perfect doppio served with a tiny biscotti. BEST. ESPRESSO. EVER.

We left the factory with the new frame, feeling like we’d just stolen a huge bar of gold or something like that. Nobody would believe the story, would they? The rest of my time in Belgium was magic but that was certainly my fondest memory.

Sometimes it seems like a dream… But for one morning in Meise, The Cannibal was my coffee boy. HA!

p.s. As further expression of sorrow for the frame problems, Eddy had a vintage 99 TT bike used by his son Axel sent to my friend’s home for him to use in the Antwerpen TT Championships. I died from jealousy.