I always assumed that after a year of living and cycling in Europe, I’d look something akin to a long-lost Schleck brother:

Bescarfed, slim cut suit, euro-diculous haircut…

Nope.  After a ride, I look like this:

Cycling has transformed me into a 1973 Eddy Merckx.

I really have to stop going to the north Africans for 10€ haircuts…