PIP HIGHAM
Pip is on fire this month!
As a youth one of the high points of the long summer holidays was lighting a fire on the croft at the back of our house. I’m not talking about an Amazonian rainforest, climate threatening Armageddon-style conflagration, just a bit of a fire, with the remains of a redundant rabbit hutch (sans lapin obvs), maybe supplemented with odd bits of roofing felt.
With luck we’d nick a few spuds to incinerate and we’d be made. When I started to race at Santa Pod it came as a bit of a surprise that the Fireworks Meet involved various high temp shenanigans too. But (you knew this was coming) I was up for it. On the Saturday night the staging lanes were open to anyone and occasionally a bit of combustible fluid would be sploshed on the launch pad, the ensuing burnout, with a trail of flames, was great fun to watch, but a bit risky. Given my predilection for a bit of cracklin’, I was in there like a frog up a pump.
As had occurred on many previous occasions (and several since) I hopped in with gusto (for readers of a nervous disposition, gusto is a commodity best avoided, located somewhere between enthusiasm and stupidity) pulled on my Interstate Ruff Outs and joined the rag-tag group of similarly unhinged not-rights adjacent to the start rollers. With the GS running as sweet as a nut (1176cc and capable of running high nines) I was up for a bit of fun as I backed into the normal burnout spot and spooled up the GS. I sensed, rather than saw a rapidly advancing flame front all around me. I made no attempt to get into stage. I just shot off down the quarter with, as I was later informed. ‘a bangin’ rooster tail’ of flames trailing me down the strip. My thinking was that I wanted to try to blow out the flames: not gonna happen!
I later realised that the pool of fluid I took to be water was mainly good old four star, and lots of it. But the fun was far from over. In those days at The Pod, the quarter was well lit, but after the checkerboards it was just darkness and gloom. On its own that might not be too much of an issue, except for the dark-tinted visor on my Bell Suicide Slit helmet. The combined effect of this was not good; approaching 220ft per second on a burning bike from a bright, well-lit track into complete darkness caused me a bit of concern.
As I shut the throttle and flipped up my visor I could feel the heat rising and I could smell a strange cocktail of odours. I later realised that the build-up of Michelin M48 debris that had collected under the rear mudguard from many previous burnouts had embraced the shower of petrol and was now getting along famously, along with the aforesaid mudguard, the side-panels and the fibre-glass seat base – in fact, the entire rear end of the bike welcomed the flames like a tramp might welcome a mug of steaming cocoa and a slice of hot buttered toast.
As I glanced around for a marshal (preferably one with a fire extinguisher under his arm) I saw the fire truck alongside me. In seconds they zapped the flames, leaving just a bit of smelly debris adorning the rear of the bike. Apart from lightly scorched leathers I was fine. I’ve often wondered if I’d stopped in the burnout when I realised the flames were a bit livelier than I’d anticipated, whether the damage might have been worse. No matter, all was well and I think the punters on the banking had a bit of a laugh into the bargain.
Having seen the above performance I was involved in a photo shoot at The Pod a year or so later. ‘Come on, let’s have a big juicy flame burnout’ I believe was the choice of words. ‘No effin’ chance’, was my response. Half-an-hour later we shot the biggest flame burnout I’d ever seen – lots of gas, lots of noise, lots of heat. But this time we had a few extinguishers at hand, what fun. I don’t think ‘Health’ and ‘Safety’ had quite the same significance in those days, just as well. Needless to say, don’t try this at home, or anywhere else for that matter.
Re: the pic. I’ve no idea who Graham Bell is. The pic shows the moment of combustion, and yes it was hot! As a matter of interest, a mate found the book in a pile of unwanted stuff at a jumble sale! I was never credited for the pic, but the book is great, so that’s fine then! Thanks Stu.