‘Squirt, wrestle, squirt, wrestle...’ Photography:

… competing in the Malle Mile requires the deployment of curious riding techniques especially, as Hugowilson finds out, when racing a hugely inappropriate Harley-davidson

The Malle Mile organisers promised ‘a non-stop programme of inappropriate bike races’. However, from the seat of the Harley-davidson Street 750 I was riding some of the opposition, crowding around in the holding area before the start of the sprint, was looking decidedly purposeful.

Fierce twin-shock Maico motocross bikes from the mid-1970s cackled menacingly, raucous knobbly tyred Triumph twins burbled and is that really a modern Honda enduro bike? Fortunately plenty of people had exactly the right idea and the assortment of oddball customs, ancient classics and unmodified roadbikes on bald tyres was very entertaining. The trick to surviving the first round of the knockout contest would be making sure that one had appropriate, or inappropriate, opposition. The grass surface soon disintegrated into ruts and dust as the smiles got bigger, and the commentator’s banter shifted up to triple entendre. Each round of the sprint races saw two riders pulled up at the startline, bike in neutral and left hand on one’s head. When the lady drops the flag, the bikes are slammed into gear and there’s a dash for the hay bale chicane and then the finishing line. Winner stays in.

The bike that I am riding is definitely inappropriate. HarleyDavidson have brought along six of their 750cc Street models, lightly modified for competition. Lights, instruments and silencing have been removed, Continental knobbly tyres and spikey footrests fitted. Word went out that they needed victims, sorry riders, and I volunteered. The 100 metre first gear ride to the holding area is enough to tell me that this is no dirt bike.

The modified Street is loud and low, and it doesn’t seem to want to turn corners. I’m not really sure what the bike is that I’m running alongside for the practice run, but he comprehensively blitzes me from the start and I’m left, literally, eating his dust. It’s good, adrenalin pumping stuff though.

In the queue for the first heat competitors chat: ‘Have you guessed what it is yet?’ Asks the camo clad rider of a green bike with wire wheels and ape-hanger ’bars. It took a while to recognise the 1980s Honda VFR750 underneath. Chris Ryan’s Velocette LE, powered by a Honda C90 engine, looks beatable but before we get to the line the sprint is called off when a rider bites the dirt too hard, requiring the attention of an ambulance.

We reconvene for the Hill Climb. Start, 90° right, hairpin left, hairpin right, 90° left and dash to the finish. And on a similar grass, ruts and sand surface as the sprint. Survival to the second heat requires suitable opposition too, so I queue next to a Royal Enfield 500. If I can get to the first corner first I may have a chance.

Then the motocrosser ahead of me stalls, and the startline marshal indicates for me to move forward to compete with something serious. I’m beaten to the first corner and spend the rest of the squirt, wrestle, squirt, wrestle, squirt, wrestle, squirt gradually slipping further back. In fairness, stronger, fitter, more talented riders got more from the Harleys than I did; I just couldn’t get it to change direction.

Great event though, and I was happy to watch the rest of the action with a cold drink.