There was a time when a single “sausage” symbol stood as the emblem of the Vuelta’s promotional trailer. It sat far from the grand parades that July in Spain borrowed from the Tour de France, a traveling spectacle of four hundred cars that delighted both young and old across the landscape.
In the last decade of the century, a sausage cart rolled along the routes of the Vuelta, a steadfast emblem for the only advertising brand dedicated to racing. It even surpassed the walking sausage as a recognizable reference.
“Where are you?” a passerby would ask.
“For Guijuelo, province of Salamanca. I just passed in front of the sausage.” The route through Guijuelo itself became a source of strength, a symbol built around more than just a single sausage.
There were almost more stewardesses than runners
There was a day when the sausage car broke down and the moment became stage talk. Nothing else dominated conversations.
“Did you see the sausage on the crane?” People wondered if there was a repair time or cost. In the end, the sausage was left behind and never reappeared on the Vuelta route, leaving the caravan of advertising without its familiar centerpiece.
Time shifted toward more hostesses than runners. It is still unclear what so many women did backstage in the Vuelta, yet the caravan, once a formal route, no longer carried the same race-kicking energy. The advertising trailer did return later, though it may not resemble the Tour; it could still claim a team of runners who passed through towns they would encounter again later on the course.
Many of the workers in advertising were students of all genders, who took advantage of the race to earn extra money during a period when training centers paused. They joined irrespective of gender and without any need for distinctive attire below the waist.
Shaving station
One never tires of recalling the morning scenes within the restricted zone of the mid-90s, when a well-known shaving products brand organized a team at the exit. Two young women shaved VIP visitors as they entered the event, until a foreign rider jokingly asked one of them to shave his legs. Some international participants queued with curiosity, more interested in the knife stand than in competing on stage. The organizers eventually had to address the image issue, as riders with foam on their legs and trousers rolled up to the groin did not present a healthy spectacle.
Times have changed since then. Those moments became history. The Tour, with its own distinctive rhythm, managed to shape the Vuelta by introducing a clearer structure to match its own traditions. The sausage, once a central symbol, has faded into a humorous anecdote of the past. Yet certain advertising vehicles continue to traverse the roads each July, revisiting towns and communities along the route as the race unfolds.
There was a time when a single “sausage” was in circulation as the primary emblem of the Vuelta’s promotional trailer. It stood far apart from the spectacle of the Tour’s July parades. A caravan of four hundred cars nearly became a traveling circus, captivating spectators of every age.
During the final decade of the last century, a sausage cart traveled the Vuelta routes, representing the only brand whose advertising focused squarely on racing. It even eclipsed the walking sausage as a focal point. A curious exchange would surface: “Where are you?” and the reply, “For Guijuelo, province of Salamanca. I just passed in front of the sausage.” The stop in Guijuelo served as a moment of fortitude, celebrated with more than one sausage in tow.
There were almost more stewardesses than runners
On a certain day, the sausage car stalled, and the incident became the talk of the stage. The question persisted: did you see the sausage in the crane? There was no definite repair time or cost shared, but the sausage was eventually sought after and no longer appeared along the Vuelta route, leaving the advertising caravan without its familiar centerpiece.
The balance tipped toward more hostesses than runners. The backstage activity of so many women in the Vuelta remains a mystery, yet the caravan persisted in spirit. The advertising caravan may not mirror the Tour, but it still boasted a team of runners tasked with moving through towns they would visit again later in the race.
People working in advertising, including many students of all genders, took advantage of the race to supplement their income during a period when training centers were closed. They joined freely, without the need for anything more than their willingness to participate.
Sculpted moments and memory
The shaving station narrative became a fixed memory. A familiar brand of shaving products organized a crew to greet the riders and VIP guests each morning. The quirky moment of a foreign runner asking for a leg shave, and the ensuing lines forming at the knife stand, became a story told with a smile. The image clashed with the expectations of a sport that values discipline and modesty, prompting organizers to reckon with public perception.
Over time, these scenes faded. They left a stamp on history, a reminder of how the Tour’s bold energy shaped the Vuelta’s culture. Some advertising caravans continued to travel the route, while others evolved or dissolved. And yet, July remains a time when the road remembers the playful and the peculiar as much as the serious competition, with the sausage tale serving as a lighthearted reminder of a bygone era on French roads and Spanish routes alike.