1966 World Track Championships, Official Race Poster

This poster presents a striking and unforgettable image. While the presence of motorcycles in bike racing—particularly in motor-paced track events—is not unusual, the way they are depicted here is anything but ordinary. The design deliberately withholds color from the subjects, reserving it only for the vivid blue headline text and the UCI’s signature rainbow stripes. The rest of the composition is rendered in stark, stylized black and white. The pacers on their motorcycles are sharp and authoritative—symbols of power and control. Their bold jersey numbers are clearly visible, their faces defined, and their overall presence grounded and solid.

In contrast, the cyclists behind them seem almost ghostlike, as if the speed and force of the race is pulling them apart. Their features are obscured, their jerseys indistinct, and their outlines fading into the chaos of motion. The background—a blur of spectators, seating, and guardrails—is reduced to a smudge, emphasizing the sheer velocity at play. Amid the swirl of energy, the motorcycle riders remain calm and composed, a steady force guiding the whirlwind behind them.

Hovering in the corner is a small globe wrapped in rainbow stripes, stamped with “UCI” alongside “BDR” (Bund Deutscher Radfahrer). Translation: international sanction meets German precision—please have your lap times ready. In the lower right, the Martini roundel lounges confidently, a reminder that nothing says “elite athleticism” quite like an Italian vermouth brand backing a week of anaerobic suffering.

Why Frankfurt? The velodrome could hold thousands, and post-war West Germany was eager to host major events as a symbol of national recovery and modernity. Women, amateurs, and professionals all raced, though the poster’s minimalist design leaves the competitors to your imagination. And if the dates—“29.8. – 4.9.66”—give you pause, blame the European day-month format. That same system once convinced a jet-lagged American sprinter he’d arrived a day late. He hadn’t—but the moment of panic may have shaved a tenth off his flying lap.