http://www.roadracers.co.uk ....

 

Home



  Isle of Man TT - Wetter than an Otter's Pocket

After months of waiting the day had finally dawned. It was time to return to my favourite island, the Isle of Man. After a restless night dreaming about limitless speed and favourite sections of track I was woken by an enormous thunderstorm at around 05.00 am. Like a child waking up on Christmas day there was no way I could go back to sleep so I checked my gear over one more time and made an early visit to the bathroom. With the necessary ablutions out of the way (in some luxury compared to the next 10 days) I had a quick bite to eat before dashing out to the shops to get some money and those one or two last bits and pieces that always get left 'til the last minute.

I met the rest of the group - Granite, Tetley, Lenny the Fence and Pops - at Grumble Towers. After the usual greetings "Where have you been you tosser we're late !! etc..." we were off !! Well we would have been if my John Waynes (saddlebags) hadn't caught on Pops gate. RRRRRRRRIIIIPPP!! Double bollox arse wank !! Toys out of pram time. Luckily Lenny and Pops sorted me out after they had finished laughing and we were soon an our way.

Now, without giving to much away about where we live (you never know who might read this rubbish), we were setting off from an area south of London and had given ourselves all day to make it to Heysham to get the 02.00am Steam Racket Ferry to the island. The theory was that if the weather was good we would take a nice scenic route that our esteemed editor had ridden to the TT when he was competing on the Grimley Fiendish 500 flat single. A revolutionary design that would have succeeded but for the fact that the cylinderhead used to hit the road on right handers even at moderate rates of lean. If the weather was bad we would use the motorway to get there as quick as possible then seek out somewhere to dry off.

The morning before we had set off had been very warm but interspersed with showers. These had all dried quickly so we set of with high hopes but agreed to stop at Oxford and finally decide - motorway or funway.

Two miles into the journey and the rain started, onto the M25 and it was bouncing a foot off the road. Being the optimistic little souls we are though (read stupid) we didn't stop to put our waterproofs on - it was June fer gods sake. 'It's only a shower' I kept saying to myself as the rain dripped down my neck. Half way to Oxford and the sun came out, so by the time we stopped for juice we were a little drier. Buoyed up by the last few miles of dry roads we made a decision to go cross country towards Worcester and then head north to Heysham. It rained on and off on the way to Worcester but never so much to warrant putting on waterproofs until we got to Pershore.

Never mind cats and dogs it rained cows and hippos!! We had a choice - stop or drown, simple as that. We were wetter than Prince Edward's handshake and Lenny and Granite now had hands that matched the design of their gloves. So we stopped under the convenient cover of a Suzuki car dealership. The nice people at Suzuki invited us in for a coffee which was extremely welcome. They also told us that the way we were headed would now be blocked by flood water, a fact that was confirmed to us by a stream of stationary traffic outside. So after struggling to put oversuits over soggy leathers (why do they make those things so fecking hard to put on ? Yes Ed, I know I'm a fat bastard) it was off to our first adventure. Because of all the rain, flash floods were blocking every exit we tried to make. After a lot of frustrating U-turns we finally decided to try and make it through a flood. The water was about a foot deep, a hundred yards long and a single file of cars were coming towards us causing a bow wave to rock the front end as we passed each one. If I still had my surfboard with me I could have been hanging ten. With bow waves rocking the front end, putting a foot down seemed inevitable, but amazingly we all made it though unscathed. We had to pass through loads more water lying about or gushing down the road like some shitty river.

The next time we gas up and it's toys out of pram number 2 as I lost the remote to my alarm. You know, the sort that insurers insist are fitted to high risk bikes like the Blade , the sort that set the immobiliser and alarm as soon as you get off and that can't be by-passed unless you have got a degree in electrical engineering from the University of Smart Pants you or are a robbing little scrote who can by-pass one and be off down the road before you can say "I loved that bike ". A small and insignificant thing as I write this, but back then, cold, wet and hungry, it was a major paddy resolved only by the eagle-like eye of big Tone the Granite boy. We also took the opportunity to re-lube our chains with a small bottle of Scottoil and a toothbrush that I had packed in the back of the Blade's seat. It's probably a good opportunity to put a little plug in for Scottoil here as it is a very good product. As with a lot of things it was Pops that first alerted me to this stuff. We don't use the Scottoiler itself but apply the oil on the chain via a small bottle or a toothbrush. The benefits of this over the more sticky varieties is that the sticky stuff doesn't stick so all it does is turn the back of the bike into something that resembles Red Adair's wellies. Scottoil wipes off a wheel with a dry cloth and I personally think it lubes the O rings a lot better.

We finally stopped at a pub at 7.00pm and had a well deserved pint and some top food. The pub was owned by some geezer who was into bikes and who had hung two examples of old oily British iron on the wall. Guess what happened as soon as we left the pub? If you guessed that it pissed down, go to the top of the class.

We eventually made it to Heysham at 11.00 pm. What a relief, ten hours of the most miserable riding conditions I have had the displeasure of riding through. But what the heck, it was an adventure.

Top tips for riding in monsoon conditions:

Furygan overboots might make you look like a pixie but they do keep your boots dry.

Wax (sold at most bike shows) - feeds and partially waterproofs leather.

If you ride through floods check your bearings asap. We had 3 failures shortly afterwards and 2 of those were brand new wheels.

Get a van and a trailer

  Part 2 - A ferry called Brian

We got on the ferry without too much hassle. This year Tetley was in charge of ferries and times and he had had an eye operation that meant he could read the time on the ticket. Unlike Pops last year whose myopia ensured we turned up just in time to see our ferry disappear up the Mersey without us. Once on to the ferry we quickly found our cabin. How lucky we were to have one as the boat was rammed to the rafters with bodies everywhere and there was no way we could have got anywhere to sit.

After a quick change into some very welcome dry clothes we headed for the bar. The queue stretched from the bar to the door and chugged along like a Harley with a plug missing. When we finally got served the barmaid was stressed up and flapping like a turkey with his bollocks in a mouse trap. The beer was overheating and coming out like beer milkshake. We made a quick decision to get 2 each as they would slide down quickly after such a long ride. Tetley came over all smooth and gave a pint away to some young sort that he had been chatting up in the ferry queue, proper Clark Gable he was too - she didn't even see him eyeing up her charlies.

After a look around the boat, basically a floating shithole, it was time to sleep. But like little boys on a camping trip there wasn't much sleeping and more than a few farts, burps and other disgusting noises. All too soon NOT!! we arrived and had the joy of disembarkation. Now I am sure that you are all familiar with the phrase 'piss up in a brewery', but the Steam Racket company probably couldn't even find the brewery. Now to give you some idea of what getting off a ferry packed with bikes is like, try and think of a multi storey car park packed with bikes all tied together. Now imagine all the owners trying to get to their bikes via four stairways all at once. Then a German will start his old shed, usually a streetfighter lash-up with open pipes and worn rings so it belches smoke everywhere. The other Germans see this as a sign to start their old nails and the next thing you know your eyes are streaming and your lungs are burning as you inhale the exhaust fumes from Klaus and all his friends. One poor lad actually threw up this year, it was that bad. A great start to his holiday I don't think. Once we were finally out we discovered it was raining again, so no early morning lap for us then. After a wonderful shower and a quick lie down it was time for one of Tom's famous breakfasts.

Part 3 - Loose nuts sir? No, its just the way I walk

After breakfast it was up to the pits to get Lenny and Granite some new gloves as theirs were fit only for cleaning windows. With Lenny and Granite proudly displaying their new wares we thought we would get a lap in before evening practice started. It was great to be back on the circuit and surprisingly enough I remembered quite a few sections. Just past Balaugh and I came across Granite by the side of the road looking like someone had stolen his favourite chainsaw - not a happy chippy at all. His sprocket nut had decided to make a run for it and Granite was stranded. Lenny and I caught up with the others at Ramsey but the roads were closed by the time we got to Padgetts. The mechanic at Padgetts was a top geeza of the highest order and took a sprocket nut off some GSXR that a German had crashed. Much to the annoyance of the bloke who ran the workshop, who gave the monkeynick a right bollocking for helping us out. According to Pops a lot of the GSXR stuff is interchangeable - maybe that's why they are so cheap ? With Granite's nut in Pop's pocket (ouch !!) it was down the back roads to Ballaugh. By the time we got there it was sidecar practice and a break in tradition for everyone. Traditionally, the first practice we see is always viewed from the bottom of Bray Hill so as to give maximum impact to TT virgins. I can well remember my first time and I think the comment I made went something along the lines of "derfug!!wibble fhnunk how fucking fast???". Lenny's first sight of practice was of sidecars leaping over Ballaugh most of which were getting big air. Those guys really are candidates for the monster raving loony party. They were flat out screaming the nuts off up to Ballaugh then it was down the box, leap the bridge and out the other side as fast as possible.

After practice we sorted Granite's 7/11 and made our way back over the mountain for a few beers and an early bed - after 3 hours sleep in the last 41 we deserved it.

Part 4 - Its OK, I am Belgian not German

Friday was fairly uneventful apart from another top meal at L'experience the French Restaurant in Douglas. Search it out you will be rewarded with a lovely meal at a reasonable price served by the owner who, for a mature lady, is a bit of a sort. She certainly gets Pops hot under the collar, maybe that's why he would gladly eat there all week if he could afford it. The French onion soup comes highly recommended as does most of the menu which is basic French country style. Sorry if this sounds like a restaurant guide, but its all part of the magic of the IOM.

Saturday morning and still a bit bleary eyed it was up and at em at 06.30 am for a morning lap. I spent the lap re-acquainting myself with some of my favourite sections and learning where the new speed limits are. Every year they extend further out of the towns and every year the Manx police make more money in fines. Second lap out and the mountain was fairly clear so I had it to myself most of the time. Caning it towards the Creg and the front wheel lifts beautifully as it hits a crest then kisses back onto terra firma without even a twitch. Heaven !! I caught up with the others at Hilberry and was soon joined by Lenny who was grinning from ear to ear. That made five of us. It was great to be back.

After another fine breakfast playing fried bread roulette*. We retired with a cup of tea to the steps to talk through the first laps and our hopes for the coming week.
* To play fried bread roulette, a player who doesn't eat this particular heartstopper places the fried bread in the toast rack whilst no one is looking. Whoever takes it butters and jams it then eats it is the looser.

Rhencullen beckoned as the spectator point for this year's F1 race. The roads were very busy as we made our way there and we soon got split up. Just after Cronk y Voddy and a van ahead of me braked; at the same time the guy behind me lost control of his bike and clattered onto the deck. Apparently a German had come down the outside of the traffic too fast and when a van came round the corner had no where to go so he sideswiped the guy behind me. There are varying reports of what happened next - some say he pissed off without stopping and some say he fell off as well. Germans 1 Brits 0

We pitched up at Rhencullen and got a good spot on the other side of the crest to see all the wheelie action. Whilst we were sat there waiting for the race to start this guy and his hairy friends walks up. You could tell he wasn't from the UK and everyone started muttering about Germans who don't have a very good reputation for being good neighbours, just ask the Poles. " Mind if I join you ?.... " the guy said in a Germanic accent. Of course we just pissed ourselves laughing and welcomed him aboard like an old friend.

The race started in brilliant sunshine and soon the first F1 bikes were coming into view. All of a sudden we heard over the radio that the race had been stopped due to Paul Orrit's horrendous crash at Bray Hill. Check out this years TT video by Duke Marketing if you want to see it. Orrit's Blade went to a massive slapper coming down Bray Hill and he could do nothing to stop it. Luckily he escaped with a few broken bones even though he hit a wall !!

The restart went smoothly and we were again treated to the sight of two-stroke V twins and big fours hooning over the crest with the front wheel pawing the air whilst cranked over. I got some top photos but my favourite has to be a chance in a million shot of John Mcguiness on the Vimto Honda NS500. If you look closely you can actually see the back wheel is off the ground as well !!!! I met John on the prom later that week and he explained that the picture was taken on the second lap and he had oil going over the back tyre. So let's get this straight - the guy had the front off the deck as well as the back and he had oil on the back tyre. The bloke must have gonads like watermelons. The race was won by David Jefferies on the R1... a real kick in the teeth for Honda and the first of many at the 99 TT.

Later on a group of Germans clambered up on a the wall and true to form paid no consideration to anyone or their possessions so they were kicking our lids around with their combat boots & my black Arai now has a three inch scratch in it. Inconsiderate tossers.

After the F1 came the Sidecars, who confirmed that they are mental. One of the joys of spectating on the TT course is how close you get to the action. The wind rush from the sidecars nearly knocks you over at Rhencullen. Some of the passengers actually lie down on sections of the course.

Mad Sunday was held indoors as it was pissing down with rain most of the day. This probably helped keep the accident rate down again this year. Sunday evening was a bit tame this year the highlight of the evening was seeing some ropey old bird roller-skating in a pair of bikini bottoms. It was really amusing seeing her fall over - you could almost hear all the blokes wishing they had a first aid kit. We saw some OK stunts , but the best was later on when a guy was doing stand up wheelies in between the tram lines on a Repsol Firestorm; he made it look really easy, even following the curve.