the last book I ever read (Half Man, Half Bike: The Life of Eddy Merckx, Cycling's Greatest Champion, excerpt four)

from Half Man, Half Bike: The Life of Eddy Merckx, Cycling's Greatest Champion by William Fotheringham:

The Eddy Merckx metro station lies on the outer reaches of the Brussels underground, the Bruxellois equivalent of Cockfosters or Alperton. Line five crosses the Belgian capital from east to west, a modern, airy mass-transit system. The Merckx station, penultimate stop on the south-western branch, is bizarrely understated given that it is named after the country’s leading sportsman. You can leave by the north exit without even noticing the tiny display that commemorates the great cyclist, although when you come back through the south exit you can’t miss it: the small glass case on the platform, with a track bike, a section of the wooden boards from a cycling track and a handful of photographs. And that’s it. Other than the Merckx display, there is a very fine Magritte-style surrealist mural—which holds the attention for far longer than the Merckx artefacts—and, outside, a large stand for supermarket trolleys.