Those special days…
We’ve all been to hundreds of rallies over the years, but there’s always an odd one or two that really stand out….
So that is where I went, bouncing along under hot braking to make the block pass. Cheekily, I remember being a bit naughty and flashing him the V-sign behind my back down the straight.
I've raced on and off since 1987 and it is the same with race meetings, or even with laps of circuits. You've done literally hundreds of laps of a circuit, but you remember certain laps more than others.
BSSO scooter race series makes a return to Three Sisters this month after not racing there for a few years. Much has been written about the love/hate relationship that many of the current riders have with Three Sisters. Arguably, it is the spiritual home of UK scooter racing and anyone who has raced for 20 years or more is likely to have ridden hundreds, or even thousands of laps.
For me there are two races which really stand out. Back in the day, being on the
front row of the grid (which was five or six places back then) was down to your championship position. So if you were in the top five you were on the front row. I'd gone through a whole year of being drawn at the back, motivation and confidence was suffering from being 30th or more on the grid, and then it happened! I was drawn sixth, so I lined up behind Dave Webster and Malc Anderson, both legends of the sport. Webbo was at his peak and racing in three classes, so before the Group 4 race which I was in, he was in a Group 3 150cc race, which he won. He had a Group 4 bike ready in pit lane, rode in from the Group 3 win and switched bikes to go out to the Group 4 grid, which was already starting to line up. But hot, sticky tyres to stone cold caught him out and he dropped it at the hairpin on his way to the grid and broke the handlebars… so he wasn't going to line up on his pole position slot in front of me!
For reasons unknown, the start line team waved me forward to take pole and everyone else behind me moved forward a row. With no time to really think about it the flag drops and we were away! I slotted in behind Malc Anderson and got carried along by him. At the end of the first lap I was still there. Then, inevitably, Bob West came by me on the second lap, but I held third place for another lap. I'd gone from a regular 20-something place to running with the fast boys! I ended the race in fifth place and lapped some two seconds faster than I had ever gone before, and it was even spitting with rain.
That race gave me a massive confidence boost and showed me I could actually go way faster than I had been doing, I was absolutely buzzing. I remember that race well, it was like magic.
On another occasion, it was again pouring with rain, and I was locked in a season-long battle with my best buddy Roland Davis. He was a bit faster than me, and not so happy in the rain, but he was having a good day and we were passing and re-passing each other. We had to contend with the infield left-hand hairpin, which is taken at more or less walking pace, and he had built a bit of a gap. So I had to try and pass him from a long way back, but he was wise to my favoured move (diving underneath him on the left-hand side), so he kept a very tight line. I'd never get past him round the outside, so I opted to dive up the inside on his left, but the only bit of track available was the concrete rumble strip! That is where I went, bouncing along under hot braking to make the block pass. Cheekily, I remember being a bit naughty and flashing him the V-sign behind my back down the straight. He took it in the good spirit it was meant and after the race we were both buzzing to have been riding on the absolute limit of our talents, passing and re-passing each other. I remember that lap so vividly, it was another magical moment.
For me, those are two moments that are indelibly etched in my mind and always will be… scootering can do that. We cover thousands of miles, but a certain journey will stand out forever. Go to hundreds of rallies and a couple will never leave your memory. I remember a journey back from Morecambe rally in 1984, spending the last 40 miles or so flat out, weaving in and out of the fast lane of the A1 and pausing only for a fuel stop and putting the very last of my Belray MC1 oil in.
It was a magical journey. We all have them.