From this article
about Floyd Landis in the NY Times.
‘‘I got it!’’ Landis said. ‘‘When this is over, I’ll have the surgeons give me my old hip, and I’ll sell it on eBay. I’ll mount it on a trophy.’’ He pantomimed lying on a stretcher, talking to an invisible surgeon. ‘‘Excuse me, could I please get a to-go bag?’’
‘‘I need a cane!’’ he blurted out another time. ‘‘I’m going to show up at the tour with a cane, diamond tipped. Or maybe I should just go straight to the wheelchair. Motorized, with rims. Now that would be classic: drive up to the start, get out of my wheelchair and get on the bike! Yes!’’