Roadracers

Before they were famous ... Kevin (no.34) chases the stars at Scarborough (tip: mouses can magnify)

Absolutely no doubt about it, it was Toot. He tried to deny it with the usual "whose bloody idea was this" phrase but we all just looked at him, as he sheepishly looked at his feet and shuffled around like a small boy caught nicking sweets.

The location was Oliver's Mount circuit in , Memorial Corner to be exact, as we looked over the plastic covered straw bales and down the drop to Scarborough Town. Some estimated McDonalds, others the Town Hall, Charlie, rather optimistically or pessimistically depending on your viewpoint, reckoned the sea. However you looked at it, get it wrong there and the nearest run-off area is about 150 foot lower than where you started.

I had been warned, an inspiring quote from Tony Whitehead from New Era MCC, helped jolly things along nicely: "Be very careful at Oliver's mount. I used to marshal there and, yes, it is VERY DANGEROUS. It scared me shitless marshalling! Good luck."

Even Jack "mad bastard" Gratton told me during the Brands trackday not to go. But here we were, looking over the second long drop into the void, the first wasn't so bad as there were lots of sturdy tress to slow one's descent, assuming one's velocity wasn't so high as to miss them altogether. In which case maybe a dip wasn't beyond the realms of possibility.

Er, where was I? Oh yes, we were there anyway so it was all too late. We left from Toot's place of work in the Magic Bus with Charlie, Gavin (Charlie's son) and headed off to sunny Scarborough arriving at 4.30pm, 1½ hours before we were allowed officially into the paddock, and there we sat, despite various vehicles coming past us, until 7.00pm when the rules dictated we were allowed in. Why did we do this? I don't know, a good upbringing and a British sense of fair play leads to this sort of thing.

Just to give you a bit of background. Oliver's Mount Road Racing Circuit has been around for Thousands of Years, I have video footage (including a donkey, but that doesn't concern us here) from the 1956 Gold Cup with Geoffrey Duke and a couple of other riders that Keith will have ridden with, which shows the circuit exactly the same as it is today, apart from only being able to make it to Norma's Tea House should one get it wrong at the Monument, due to the decreased velocity of motorcycles of that period.

The circuit, as you can see from the map thingy, basically runs around the top of the Hill, or Mount, where I am told Oliver Cromwell used to stand looking out at the Castle occupied at the time by the Royalists who were busily plotting the Japanese invasion that led to the decline of the British Motorcycle industry. It is rumoured that Oliver himself enjoyed a quick lap around the demanding Oliver's Mount Circuit, at that time of course called "Charles's view" on account of Charles I getting there first and being able to look up before Olley could look down and check out the goings on through Chas's bedroom window.

It's a bit difficult to see from the picture but the circuit runs basically from the middle of the central road you can see with the bend in it down towards the bottom of the page until it disappears into the trees where it doubles back, up the Hill re-emerging just above all the cars you can see on the right it then follows the perimeter of what appears to be a field until bearing left and back into the trees, two hairpins later and your dropping down back to the start finish straight(ish), the Monument is the left hand bend taking the circuit back into the trees.

Where were we? Oh yes, waiting to get into the paddock. The reason for the wait was that they had had (can you say that?) a hill climb that day and still had had to clear the paddock of their strange homebuilt three wheel vehicles.

Once allowed in, Fenny's bus reigned supreme as the biggest vehicle in there and once it sprouted wings in the form of the big red awning it truly was a mighty beast.

As avid readers of my article will recall it had been some time since any of us had raced. So we were a little rusty at this rushing around on motorbikes type thing. Once unloaded, we commenced the traditional walk around the course. Across the paddock through a gate, up a track through another gate and along a path, it seemed to take ages, "Well I don't know do I? Ask that bloke in the flat cap". "Er, excuse me local looking type person in archetypal flat cap in the Northern style, could you tell me where the circuit is?" "You're on it lad". "We are?" "Yes, you are". "OK, fine....er, little narrow isn't it?" "Aye".

Hey ho, off we trudged up the hill to the Esses. Neil "the Tent" met us half-way up with some beers to try to relieve some of the concern that was apparent on our now rapidly furrowing brows. Actually, it makes nice walk and takes in some lovely views. It also, conveniently, has a café just before the Monument and at the end of a long straight. The café comes gradually into focus as you walk along the back straight or more quickly into focus if your travelling at 130mph, astride a TL1000 for instance.

A little out of breath we returned to the bus for beers, manly banter and a night of rolling down the bus due to being parked on a slope.

The schedule for the two days was as follows:-

Saturday:

Scrutineering
Practice
Go home / 1st Superbike Race

Sunday:

Lie in with the paper / practice
2nd Superbike Race
Cock o' the North

We awoke bright and early to the sound of bike tyres crunching on gravel as they were wheeled past my window-box and onwards to the scrutineering bay. We all did that as well, and having your suspension bounced and your bits fiddled with isn't very interesting so I won't bore you with the details.

One interesting point, which I discovered upon receipt of my program, was that I was the only bloke from London. In fact the closest I got at all to anyone near London was Oxford. This is quite common - in the Sound of Thunder I'm often the only bloke there south of Birmingham let alone from London. Why is this? Answers to Terry Rymer "Are you really a Northerner?" Competition, www.roadracers.co.uk

At last, at 10.00 am we had the chance to have a wiz around the circuit. My recollection upon my return was of grassy banks, trees, grass, trees and a front wheel that refused to stay down despite me lashing a small child to the mudguard. Second practice, probably due to a better idea of where the circuit went, was much better and, dare I say it, was even enjoyable. The major challenges were keeping it flat out along the back straight, with the front wheel bouncing from bump to bump and the bars shaking like something very shaky, and the bottom straight, which has three drops in it - actually more like two drops and a humpbacked hump. This again should be flat (in the speed sense not geographical) but the straight actually turns gently to the right as you go down the hill (you can see the this part of the track on the picture coming down the hill, just on the edge of the trees). This makes it hard to hit the jumps straight. Those braver than I were raising the front wheel big time over the last drop. I, on the other hand, bounced over .. both wheels off the ground, bum in the air, looking more like George Formby than Barry Sheene, a style I continued throughout all the races much the amusement of the spectators.

Strangely, I returned from practice much happier although still proclaiming that I wouldn't ride if it was wet. In case you need to ask why, Joey Dunlop had something to do with this or, more significantly, the picture of the two trees he hit after crashing in the wet at Estonia.

Our race wasn't until 2.50pm so we had some time to relax and enjoy the drizzle that proceeded to fall in the run up to the race. Wets? Drys? - what to use ? We scoured the paddock for advice. I licked the track to check moisture content, checked for spray coming off wheels and finally plumped for intermediate Dunlop 207 Stars. The tannoy crackled and we were called up for the first race. Rather nicely the organisers had stuck us at the back, which was a bit odd as I knew I was faster than some of the guys and Anita Buxton (a Girl) in front of me, as I had passed them during timed practice. However with a hairpin coming up and 23 bikes all heading for the same space I wasn't really bothered. One of the nice things about the start line is 1. it sits at the bottom of a large bank where all the spectators stand and 2. the commentator introduces all of the riders. So after shaking hands with my 2,688 spectators we were ready for the off.

Race 1 Superbikes

Snick into 1st gear, heartbeat rises, mouth goes dry (my heart rate has increased just thinking about it) lights go red, lights go green and off we charge as fast as possible with the sole intention of stopping as fast as possible to get round the hairpin. Round the hairpin and charge up the hill, front wheel in the air. 4 laps later Red Flag after at least 4 riders go down at various hairpins. This led to a reforming on the grid with allowances made for position at the time of the red flag. This fortunately stuck me up to 11th on the grid from 22nd - hurrah! Green light again and we're off for the next 4 laps. Somehow I managed to hang on to the leaders for a while, a very brief while, before being cast adrift to race my own race. A combination of pushing hard into the hairpins, useful power output from the TL on a damp surface and not falling off resulted in a very respectable 5th place and £40.00 prize money, which was nice.

Steve Wilson (Toot) finished 9th and Fenny 10th after a poor start and getting caught up with some slower riders at the back. Two of the noticeable things about Scarborough is the age of the majority of the riders who all appear to be 30 something and the safe way in which they appear to ride, despite the 4 crashes. The circuit is narrow and is dangerous, this makes it not the place for fairing bashing, the downside is that it is difficult to pass, so if you do get caught behind someone it can be very difficult to do anything about it.

That evening it was off down to Scarborough Fayre and a chance to share me winnings with a round of drinks, just the one of course ... don't want to go mad, might fall of tomorrow.

At this point Toot has asked me to point out that he stayed in the bus and watched television and was not involved at all in the incident with the transvestite, the cucumber and the packet of liver.

Sunday was the big day including the 2nd Superbike Race and the Cock o' the North itself. Eddy and Gillian (man for whom I best manned and destroyed his credibility for ever) promised to turn up and shout encouragement and I am pleased to advise that both he and Gillian looked well and Eddy's already impressive tummy didn't fail to disappoint having grown another inch.

Race 2 Superbikes

9th on grid, dry race, thus leading to increased advantage for R1's and race tackle. Not a great start due to getting boxed in at hairpin. Two memorable slides, nearly lost the front at the chicane before start finish straight and big slide coming out of Mere hairpin. Finished a reasonable 12th however. Huge crowd pleasing keystone-cops style down the "straight of many drops".

Both Fenny ("big burly blond Ian Fenn" according to the commentator) and Toot were having bike problems. Toot with the recurrence of the mysterious misfire and Fenny with an misfire coming out of bends. Wisely, both retired.

Race 3 Cock o' the North

Absolutely pissed down before and during the race. Mad panic to fit wet tyres. Fenny kindly donated his wet front to me - for that, much thanks. Toot rejoined the fracas after hopefully resolving his problem. 12th on grid, misting visor, wet leathers, 10 laps and were off. Not a great start - I must admit to being very cautious not knowing the extent of grip available. Other major problem was visibility, not only due to the spray kicked up by the bikes in front but also though a badly misting visor. First time 'Fairy' has ever let me down. A partial cure for this was to hold my breath round the slow bits and breath through my extensive nose on the fast bits. The laps went by, my speed rose and I even started to pass other competitors ... I was actually quite enjoying the whole thing. After I think 10 laps, it may have been less, the flag fell and I came in what I believed to be 12th ish. An enthusiastic welcome upon my return advise that in fact I had come 7th! 7th in a National Roadrace with big grown up racers! I was absolutely, and probably irritatingly, ecstatic. Also another £50 better off.

Toot did well and was up me arse for the first 4 laps but was hindered by an 250 RS Honda which allowed me to pull out a gap. Unfortunately the misfire returned and Toot had to pull out.