It's the biggest sporting event on the planet, based on the millions of spectators who line roads for a fleeting view.

This year, a shake-up will see the loss of the iconic Champsolise finish.

But will that mean a change in fortunes for the Tour de France?

In this episode, we look at how a cycling race became a global money spinner.

Sponsors for even things like their beds.

Even their beds?

Yes.

We hear about its owners, the Amoris, one of the richest families in sport.

I mean, they disclose what they have to disclose,

but other than that, they are very, very private.

And discuss whether events could overshadow this year's race.

For the race to leave Paris, it's almost like its identity to finish in Paris.

I'm Laura Heighton Jins. You're listening to Business Daily on the BBC.

The alpine cows have just been put out to pasture on the Col du Mollard. Their bells are kind of music of the hills. But there's another familiar sound out here.

That of bicycle spokes.

A group of men on two wheels have just arrived, all triumphant smiled.

I'm in La Morienne, pilgrimage site for the most devoted riders,

and regular setting for the Tour de France.

High mountain passes like this didn't feature in the first tour, launched as a competition in French newspaper Lotto, today in circulation as Le Kiep.

Geoffrey Wheatcraft wrote Le Tour, a history of the Tour de France.

Well, the race itself began in 2003 as a publicity stunt. It was a provisional device for the paper.

So how did the race look then compared to the way it does now? Almost unrecognisable, apart from the fact that

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