“By virtue of keeping her reporting clean and concise, del Bosque easily steers readers through Treviño’s international financial crimes spiked with brutality—the kind that would make Michael Lewis’ usual suspects blush. In tracing the case from the first whispered tip to an FBI agent to the final verdict, she brings a slice of the abstracted drug war into heart-rending focus, turning the bloody diamond before her loupe so that each facet becomes clear.”
“Take, for example, the soft shades of green shot through “Stephanie – 1966 Suzuki Bearcat B105p 118cc,” or how the hot mist of the pyroclastic flow of the burnout in “Melissa – 1975 Honda CB400″ echoes in the pattern of her plaid shirt, the distress of her denim jeans, and the gleaming rubber of her boots, tires, and seat. She wants the women comfortable and showing off their vehicles; Vaun will postpone shoots if a favorite bike needs work, rather than have them shoot with a friend’s. The agency is completely returned to the rider.”
“The peloton is the great pack of huddled cyclists whipping around whatever godforsaken corner of race course these animate skeletons have the greatest blessing and curse of propelling themselves through. It is the dangerous, many-limbed, many-wheeled core of the race.
Away from the dramatic ball lay the escape artists, the smaller, swifter packs battling amongst each other to propel one of their own, their chosen one, to victory in the race. And well behind the pushing, heaving mass are the stragglers, the world class made seemingly pedestrian, by virtue of injury, technical difficulty, force majeur, calamity or simply being out of their depth. And finally, behind all of these, there is the lanterne rouge.”