Tony and I have finished building the new race engine. He fits it into the outfit and we arrange to take it to M&P in London to get it set up on my birthday. There is a big rugby match going on at the nearby Twickenham stadium and it takes ages to get through the traffic. We spend all day trying to overcome problems with the carburettors only to find out it is a leak in the gauges. We do finally get it set up sufficiently well to feel confident that it is OK for the race meeting the following weekend. I had three gigs that week but things have conspired to make me miss all of them. My road bike fried the battery when the regulator failed and Tony had to take me and the bike home in his van. The vacuum fuel tap had blocked and was flooding the engine. I bought a new regulator and fitted it. Then I set about fixing the fuel tap. Take it apart, clean it, check the diaphragm for leaks. All seems ok, the plunger moves, the O ring seal is OK so I refitted it. It leaks again. I repeated this a number of times but by this time I had to remove the spark plugs to pump out the fuel in the cylinders. The rear one is not too bad to get to but the front one requires the removal of the radiator and is really fiddly to get to. Oh well, it has to be done. It didn't feel good as I started to unscrew the plug then it went slack and I knew I had a problem. The thread had sheared away from the hex part of the plug and it came out minus the thread. Damn it! Now I had to remove the cylinder head. It was obvious that the plug had never been out in all its years. I removed the carbs and they were filthy. I unbolted everything except the front exhaust header pipe. I knew that I would have problems here as the nuts had all but corroded away. I managed to chop through them with a disc cutter and eventually coaxed the retaining collar free. I loosened the clamps around the other end of the header pipe but couldn't move it. By this time Allie had turned up and found me looking very morosely at a pile of filthy and corroded bike parts. We both tried to free the header pipe and decided that we would have to remove the collector section underneath the engine. It too was jammed solid. Eventually we freed the header from that by destroying the slotted section on the collector pipe. Now I needed a new collector section but at least I was able to remove the cylinder head complete with header pipe still in place. Dickie, the engineer I would normally run to to deal with such things was away on holiday so I asked Tricia about another guy she knew of and got his contact details. A phone call later and I was no better off. He was up to his eyeballs in work and couldn't help me for a couple of weeks at least.
I needed my bike for transport to and from Tony's. Theseus needs the car for gigs and rehearsals as it is Brighton Fringe time and he is really busy. I need to be able to get to Tony's in order to do last minute prep for the racing. I manage to get the car one day in order to pick up some aluminium sheet so I can fabricate a duct for the fairing to guide air through the new bigger oil cooler. On the Thursday Tony drives down in the van and picks me up so we can spend the day working on the outfit. We load up all my gear and the ally sheets. I spend all day repositioning the oil cooler and fabricating the ducting. A few days before Tony had picked up some oxygen so we could fabricate new hand holds and braze them into position. At Darley Moor I had raced it with the handholds that were there. This consisted of a rail running at low level from the back to the front of the platform alongside Tony's left leg. This offered me no real bracing against acceleration and braking forces. It was also so low that the angle of my arm when trying to pull myself back in after a left hander was awful. I had studied photos of other passengers and outfits to see what they had and came up with an idea of how I could modify the rail. I decided that if I left it attached at the front mounting point and cut it somewhere near the back I could bend it slightly up and past the oil tank before taking it vertical and then at right angles to attach to the frame rail that runs over the engine. That would give me a really good bracing point and a higher level hand hold to pull myself in and back for rapid changes from left to right. The vertical section would be my handhold for left handers and the horizontal section running to the frame rail would be my handhold for right handers. I tried it out in the garage and it immediately felt ten times better than the old set up. I could pull myself back in with ease and get myself really over to the right behind Tony. It looked a bit rough and ready but it felt great and I can modify it later to pretty it up. It also freed up some room on the platform so that my movement wasn't so constricted.
This was a huge relief to me. I had been studying videos of the Anglesey circuit as well as the circuit map. There are four left handers on the coastal circuit, two of them require very fast changes. There is a long sweeping right hander that comes into a very sharp left at Rocket and is followed by a right hand hairpin. Then there is the Corkscrew. This starts with a left followed by a right and another left. I know there is no way I could cope with that the way the outfit was set up.
We finished working on the outfit at about 8pm on the Thursday and loaded everything up. By ten thirty we had picked up Carl and his solo and hit the road. We arrived after a very rainy journey at 3.30 in the morning and put some mattresses in the scrutineering bay and slept there until morning. Friday morning arrived with lots of sunshine. We set up the marquee and unloaded the bikes and gear. Practice was due to start in the afternoon. We ran the outfit up to check it was all OK but the clutch was dragging badly. We took it apart and put it back together, we adjusted it but nothing made any difference. We tried putting fewer plates in, that made it better but then it slipped. Something was wrong - but what? Tony kept suggesting that we put the standard springs back in in place of the uprated ones. I had studied the assembly drawings and explained that the springs couldn't be the cause as they merely pre-loaded the plates and were contained by two castings that connected solidly together. Tony couldn't seem to get this idea and kept coming back to the springs as we talked it through. I decided to explain how the system worked and then something clicked. As I was explaining why they couldn't I also said the only way in which they could be doing something was if they were warping the casting. Bingo! Tony said that the casting has suffered a bit of damage when a clutch broke previously. We checked the diagram and sure enough right where the damage was was in an area that would flex if the springs were strong enough. We swapped the springs for the standard ones and felt an immediate improvement. Just in time for practice/qualifying we finished reassembling the clutch.
We had walked the circuit in the morning and I had the sudden realisation that what I couldn't see from the videos and map were the elevation changes and just how tight the bends were and how quick the changes would have to be. Another passenger said that the corkscrew was so quick that we couldn't hope to get fully out on the lefts and back for the right in time so it would have to be a weight shift of our bums. I was inclined to agree from our walk round. Now I would see as we went out for our first practice lap. Tony took it easy on the out lap to check everything out and it gave me a more relaxed time to try out my moves on the various bends. Rocket was a real hairy one. The last bit of straight before it is steeply uphill and the left hander is blind until you are almost upon it. Timing and trust would be everything here. Then the hairpin right, short straight and right again was all out over behind Tony. As we hit the straight the corkscrew is out of sight and I dropped down to get ready for the first left hander of the series. Then it came into sight and I realised I had plenty of time to get ready for it. The new hand hols were coming into their own. That first left at Rocket had been relatively easy and I was right out for it and back in for the hairpin. Now as we approached the first part of the corkscrew I eased myself out on the left and round we went. The right hander came up really quick but I was able to get in and over the back in time and back down and out ready for the left onto the start/finish straight. This wasn't so bad as I feared. Tony began to ramp up the speed as we rounded the left hander at the end of the straight. I was feeling confident and enjoying the circuit. Onto the short straight and toward the right hand hairpin at Banking. This is a lovely cambered right hander, the rear wheel started to slide and Tony controlled it well on the throttle. OK I need to relax my legs and dump my weight onto the rear of the seat unit to get as much weight as possible onto the rear wheel. Down the straight to Church and another right before the long sweep to the right. I tucked in over the back hiding behind Tony to reduce drag. He was really starting to open it up now. The right kink before the hill and we flew up the hill. Whoa! He is going really fast up here and leaving the braking late. I began to start my move to the front to get ready to go out of the left at rocket but we were still flying. He's overcooked it! The outfit started to get all crossed up and was squirming under us as he struggled to shed speed and we ran onto the grass. Whoops. The rest of the lap got faster in a more controlled way but the big sweep after Church seemed slow. It was as though he was coasting it. Around the third lap I missed my timing in the corkscrew and we found ourselves in danger of tipping up and we missed the left hander at the bottom as a result and ended up on the grass. Score one to Tony and one to me. We finished the session uneventfully and came in.
We talked about the session and Tony told me he couldn't get fifth gear. That explained the pedestrian pace on the big sweeper. He also said the brakes were a bit rubbish. hence the close call at Rocket. We tried selecting fifth gear manually back in the paddock. We counted the gears out . . click, first . . . click the other way, second . . . click, third . . . click, fourth . . click, nothing. It was like there was another neutral? We pondered this for some time but we couldn't figure it out. The only thing we could do was remove the engine and split the crankcases and have a look. First thing in the morning we began ripping it out of the frame and set about splitting it. Once we had it opened up we looked at everything. It all appeared OK. Tony went off to talk to the members of other Honda 750 engined teams to see if they had any ideas. Meanwhile I sat down with the manual and studied the diagrams. There were photos of the gear clusters in each gear. I worked out that of the three selector forks the middle one only operated the fifth gear wheel. I studied this and orientated myself. The fork is offset on the journal. I looked at that and then at what our selector fork was doing. The long side was opposite to the way it was shown in the photo! OK double check it . . . yeah I am sure that is the case. The fork itself has a curve to it. Does that corroborate what I suspect? I aligned the book so the photo was the same view as I had of the clusters before me. Yes, sure enough it was confirming my suspicions as well. About then Tony returned and I told him what I had seen. I showed him and asked him to confirm it. It was a five second job to remove the shaft and flip the fork over. We had missed the first race by now. Now the pressure was on to get it back together before our next race. As they called the sidecars we were almost there but there was no way we could finish up and get out there in time. We eased off the the pressure. Then there was a delay due to a crash in the previous race. Can we do it? No there was actually more to do than we thought so we continued at the more steady pace and resigned ourselves to not racing until tomorrow. Better to get it right than risk all.
We finished up and checked we could get fifth gear - sure enough there it was. Today had been a shit day and we hadn't raced but now we knew that tomorrow we would get out there and get two races in. We retired to the clubhouse and celebrated with a beer or two.
Sunday morning arrived with a somewhat fuzzy head. That 'beer or two' had turned into a bit of a wilder night than I was used to. It was worth it however, it served to let Tony and I bond a bit more and socialise together. Up until now it had all been about sidecars and engineering. It also allowed me to get to know some of my fellow competitors better and bond with some of the other female passengers. A couple of coffees and a good slug of squash cleared my head and rehydrated me and I felt ready to go racing. Oh yeah, racing - that was the reason we were here wasn't it? We got ready and went to the holding area. Once the previous race finished we were cleared to go out on the circuit for the sighting lap.
My feelings in the holding area? Last time at Darley I had felt that I might be sick and wanted badly to run away. Today I was saying hello to the girls I had met last night and laughing with them about wanting to go for a pee and having that tightening feeling in the stomach. So much better than at Darley. I was looking forwards to getting out there and trying out the outfit in a race. On the sighting lap Tony gave it some beans round the big sweeper. Damn, this thing pulled! Now with fifth gear we could really get a sense of what we had under us. At Rocket it was a bit clunky and the engine bogged a bit but I thought little of it. Probably just Tony getting used to it. Down the corkscrew and onto the grid. We were on row ten. Not bad considering the previous day. I looked behind and checked out who was there. It is always a concern that someone might ram into us. There were only a couple of more rows so not much to worry about there. Now concentrate on the man with the flag. He got the green from the guy at the back and dropped the red flag. All eyes are now on the starter. Down came the union flag and we were off. We passed a few others on the way to the first bend and I positioned myself out the front. Round we went, this was so much better than my fiasco at Darley. Back in and ready for the lovely cambered right hander of Banking. We tore off down the straight to Church and were going well. I was finding time to look behind and see who was there for the first time and enjoying myself. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't idly looking around and not concentrating. It was still very fast and hectic but I felt so much more confident with these new hand holds. They were working beautifully. We blasted past a Norton as we went up the hill to Rocket and then the gear change problem occurred again and they passed us round the left hander. We must have lost a good few seconds doing Rocket in too high a gear and they cleared off ahead of us. We screeched round the right hand hairpin and the right before the Corkscrew. Each time we gained on them round the lap we lost time at Rocket and just could not catch them again. They finished about six seconds ahead of us.
Afterwards, Tony said he was having trouble changing down from third to second for Rocket. We checked the clutch adjustment but it seemed OK. Perhaps it was just because it was new and needed to bed in a little. There was nothing we could do. The brakes however, were a different matter. They had been awful. I decided to drop the pads on the front and see if they were glazed. If they were we could rough them up and refit them. Tony had gone off to watch Carl in his solo race. I dropped the front right and they looked pretty awful. Tony was still gone but Carl had returned and came over to look at what they were like. The first thing he said was 'they are road pads! No wonder they are crap'. He said he had a bag of race pads we could use. I waited for Tony to return before I went ahead. We then set about replacing all the pads. As he pumped the brake pedal to settle them all in afterwards we saw that the front brakes were not operating. Eventually we removed the seat unit to get to the master cylinder. It is a dual circuit one. The rear brake and sidecar brake operate from one outlet and the two front brakes operate from a second outlet. This second one was loose! We had raced without any front brakes, no wonder they seemed rubbish. It seems that pressure from the seat unit with both our weight on it had acted upon the banjo union and caused it to loosen so we lost all pressure in that circuit. We repositioned it and tightened and bled the brakes. After lunch we formed up for the second race. The sighting lap seemed OK and we took our position on the grid. As the flag dropped the outfit ahead of us stalled and their hands went up. I signalled to the outfits behind that there was a problem ahead and we went around to the left. As we accelerated past the pit wall we lost drive and the engine revved wildly. We coasted to the end of the pit out lane and pulled in. That was us done. The clutch had gone. All this way and we managed one race. A real disappointment especially after all the work we had put in. So, now we have a list of things to do before Cadwell Park in June. Then hopefully we will get to see the real potential of this new engine.
First I have to get my road bike fixed . . . .
Monday 20 May 2013
Monday 6 May 2013
My introduction
My name is Ginny Bourne, I am a few days short of my 55th birthday as I write this.
In the summer of last year my friend Allie said she was thinking of going back to sidecar racing after a break of 18 years. She said she wanted to try her hand at driving one and asked if I would be her passenger. Without giving it any thought whatsoever I told her that I would and thought no more of it. I thought it was just a bit of an escapist dream. Some weeks later she told me there was a thing called 'The International Festival of Sidecars' at Mallory Park Circuit and they were doing 'Taxi Rides'. This is where spectators and fans can have a go on the platform to see what it is like. This was due to happen in October and would I go with her and would I like to have a go.
I have ridden motorbikes all my life on the road but never been on a race track. In my youth I thrashed about on a Yamaha YDS7 250 and then progressed to a Suzuki GT500A. After that I bought a Norton Commando 850 MkIII and got involved in the 'biker' scene eventually joining the National Chopper Club. That was in the 70's, in the 80's after suffering a nervous breakdown or stress burnout (I am never quite sure how to describe it as I was serving in the forces at the time and continued to serve throughout without it being diagnosed to my knowledge) I estranged myself from my NCC friends and re-invented myself as a more mainstream biker hanging out with local clubs and riding a Yamaha XS1100. After leaving the forces in the mid 80's I went to work for Lotus in Norfolk as an R&D technician. It was there that I got closest to racing. The place was riddled with racers but I still never considered doing it myself. I had a test track licence and used to take cars out for testing. That was as close as it got. I still got my kicks tearing around on a motorbike on public roads.
After leaving Lotus I went back to my original trade of aircraft technician and went contracting in Europe. The bikes took a sideline as it was not practical. On my return in the mid 90's I went to work for Ricardo Consulting Engineers in Shoreham and bought myself a Kawasaki GPZ1000RX. For the first time in my life I also bought a set of leathers. Wearing those on the bike made such a difference! I was used to denim flapping about and crappy leather jackets with collars flapping and filling up with wind. Unfortunately however, I was descending into another extremely heavy depression. This had been happening throughout my last couple of years in Europe and by '97 had really got me in its grip. I forced a breakup with my then partner and isolated myself again and existed in a world of darkness and a home that was merely trails through dust and cobwebs.
It was about this time I was visiting family in Florida and was talking to a musician friend. He suggested I go and see a psychotherapist. Well he's american, what do you expect? On my return however I did investigate this. Four or five years of heavy depression in my late teens and early twenties and now a further four or five years by this point - I needed to do something to try to figure out why I was suffering so. I finally settled on one I thought might be able to help and settled in to a routine of weekly one hour sessions. I would talk openly about my exploits and experiences but blocked anything that got too close to areas in which I felt uncomfortable. For six months we played this game of attack and defence followed by me paying her for trying to get me to 'fess up my innermost secrets whilst I danced around sidestepping these attempts. One evening I was in mid-rant about something and she quietly asked me a direct question. It stopped me mid-word. I can still hear my inner voice saying 'well you either acknowledge this now, openly, or you get up and leave never to return.' That was the breakthrough that was required. I acknowledged this rather minor fact about myself and suddenly over the next few weeks a whole torrent of rather more significant 'facts' came pouring forth from somewhere deep in the depths of my mind. It was the start of a major change in my life.
Although that initial series of revelations occurred within a few weeks it actually took about ten years to deal with it and change my learned responses in order to stop punishing myself over these issues. I had lost my job at Ricardo, gone through a tribunal. I realised my home in Shoreham was in need of major renovation which was exacerbated by my depression and lack of will to do anything. I sold a share of it to a friend and began a new career in a test lab with an aerospace company in Farnborough. I was commuting as the house couldn't be sold in the state it was in. It was now about 2007 and I was living in digs during the week and becoming depressed again!! I sat myself down and talked through what I was doing with my life. I had developed an interest in buying a boat and toyed with the idea of just sailing off and living on the boat. I had never sailed in my life but that didn't put me off. I had begun to play the harmonica while I was contracting in Europe and become quite good at it and played in bands locally. A friend I had met through this was in the process of selling his house, having bought a boat and was planning on sailing the Atlantic I went out with him and was sick as a dog. He asked if I wanted to accompany him on his voyage and I was giving serious consideration to this. I decided to hand in my notice at work. I had no dependants so there was no reason for me to be living this solitary life in digs away from friends. I had no mortgage and could live quite cheaply.
I ended up staying on part time at that job for another year earning good money as a contractor training up new engineers. The new found leisure time meant I could go out in the evenings and play harmonica and socialise with other musicians. I reacquainted myself with a number of them and one guy I had seen around playing drums but never really got to know came over and we became friends. It turned out he was an original founder member of the show Stomp and was the guy on all the posters depicted flying through the air in martial arts style with bin lids as shields. Before long I realised he had hit hard times and quite often other friends would suggest that he should take me on as his manager. That presented a problem. Did I go sailing or did I try and make a living in music. It was at this point I realised that the sailing thing was a mental escape from my lifestyle at the time. I went into music full time.
Theseus is a gregarious but tortured soul and he took me around all sorts of places and forced me to socialise. That was something I found incredibly hard to do. I could get up and perform musically but put me face to face with people and I was terrified. The inevitable compliments one receives as a musician from music fans was a nightmare scenario for me. I never knew how to deal with it, were they just being nice to me or did they feel sorry for me? It never occurred to me they might simply think I was actually a good musician. However as the years of this went by I did get used to it and gained in confidence. As I gained confidence I felt my old self resurfacing. I am a naturally gobby, smiley, caring person with a rather dry sense of humour. I think over the last six or seven years we have helped each other immensely. It has been an emotional roller coaster however with some very hard times.
So how does all this relate to the title of Sidecar Racing? It all seems a bit Ronnie Corbett so far hey?
Well, my good friend and housemate Tricia (who has a good blog on here at http://scoobleracing.blogspot.co.uk/) had for some years been building a hybrid two stroke 250 to do track days with. She had raced in the early 90's but given up. I started to go with her on the track days as her mechanic and general helper and supporter. I could see that although she got some enjoyment out of this it was racing that she craved. I spoke to her about it but she said that she couldn't devote the time end energy it takes to take up racing again. I suggested that she view it differently and instead of contesting an entire season she just pick and choose her races and view it as a track day where you could race. She considered that and last year began to contest a few races. I really enjoyed those weekends with her and the racing bug kind of entered into me too. Now here was Allie talking about sidecar racing.
We filled out the forms necessary to do the taxi rides at Mallory and off we went in her little MX5. We arrived there quite early so while we waited for the signing on time to arrive we watched the racing. It was cold and damp and we saw a few sidecars miss the turn into Edwina's. Then we saw a rather scruffy looking outfit spin off completely and throw the passenger out. The driver had an orange novice jacket on and I jokingly said to Allie that he was probably the guy we were going out with.
Signing on time arrived and we went to find out who we would be going out with. We were both going out on number 818. We searched the paddock but couldn't find the outfit. There was only one place we didn't look and that was the scruffy one we saw spin. Eventually we went to have a look there and sure enough the number in masking tape on it was . . . . 818! Whoops. We introduced ourselves and chatted to the guys before they went out for their final race before the taxi rides started. We went off to find somewhere to watch from. A couple of laps in and 818 failed to come round. It turned out that they had gone straight on at the hairpin. The passenger had bailed out and the driver had hit the barrier and broken his shoulder. We went back to the office and got reassigned new rides. I was due to go out with John Longmore on his rather nicely prepared F2. As we stood in the pit lane awaiting our turns I got a little nervous. Everyone was saying don't hold too tightly or you'll get arm pump in one breath and in another saying make sure you hold on at all times or you'll get thrown out. I got as much advice as I could and made myself familiar with the hand holds and ran through where I should be for which turns in my head. Then I was kneeling on the platform and we were rolling out onto the circuit as it just started to spit with rain. It came out onto the end of the straight and into Gerards a long sweeping right hander. I climbed over the back and leant out over the back wheel and watched the grass whizz by my face as we accelerated round and onto the back straight. I had braced my left foot into the rear corner of the platform and as we approached the left/right/left of Edwina's I tried to get out of the left side of the platform and found myself going upwards instead! My foot was still jammed into the corner. John looked round at me and saw my predicament and eased up. I cursed myself and tried to mentally figure out what I was to do. By now we were heading up to the hairpin, I got back over the rear wheel and hung out as far as I could. Through the bus stop round the slight left and onto the start finish straight. This was exhilarating. I never did quite manage to figure the move over to the left on the next two laps but I got enough weight over to make it work then it was all over. No!!!! Surely we could go a few more times so I could figure this out properly. Damn, I was cursing myself and wondering when I could next get a go at this.
We drove back down to the south coast talking about our day. Sometime over the next few months Allie found a website and also found herself a rider that was looking for a passenger on an F1. She was getting herself back into racing and I felt a little left out. It felt like she needed me to hold her hand while she investigated the situation and then discarded me when she got a ride. I was a little put out by this. Then she told me that there was a try out day at Lydden Hill in March. Did I want to go to that? Tricia and I both decided to go with her and filled out the forms. Her rider also sponsored an F1 National class rider called Barry James. We went to sign on and I was due to go out with Barry.
Again it was wet and cold. Barry told me to just stay in round the left handers as it was wet, it needed traction on the back wheel as well as some balance for the sidecar wheel. It is a compromise in the wet. This was not taxi rides but also not race pace it was somewhere in between. We went out and Barry opened it up. It blew my mind. The G force around the first right hander was incredible and the corner seemed to go on and on. I felt my leg starting to buckle under the force. I mentally reminded myself to lock my leg out straight. The monocoque chassis was digging into my side just above my hip then we approached the left hander. Ah! Relief, I slumped down into a kneeling position as we exited and headed up the hill to the hairpin. Up and back over the right hand side, grab the handhold at the base of the body, lock out my leg. I was thrown around as we bumped and slid our way round then I felt myself sliding backwards as we accelerated down hill towards the final right hander before the start/finish straight. I stayed over the rear wheel and then I heard myself grunt as the G loading hit again around the bend and acceleration as we headed down the straight. One lap done. I was knackered! I wondered how long we were going to be out for. On and on it went. Push as we braked, leg buckling as we loaded up the G's and hanging on for dear life as I was bounced around as we accelerated. A second's rest round the left hander and off we went again. Lap after lap. It seemed like forever. I was gasping for breath, my visor was misted up, I was hurting, my left forearm was pumped. My left thigh felt like it would burst any moment. Then we slowed and pulled in to the pit lane, it was over. I was so happy it was over but I needed to do that again. The adrenaline was sloshing around my veins.
Next I went out on the Team Sloane machine. I went over to them and they had me sitting differently. Instead of kneeling I was sitting on the side of my right thigh. I am a rather long limbed beastie and I couldn't actually get my backside flat like that and my chest was forced into the chassis handhold. It was very uncomfortable but I tried to do it. We went out and I found it so much harder and more physically demanding like that. About two laps before the end of the session I had to 'tap out' and get him to pull in early. I was so out of breath and physically drained that I knew I was in danger of falling off. I got off and could hardly stand up which seemed to amuse the Sloanes. I vowed there and then to start getting fitter.
Back at the car I got talking to the guy parked up next to us. He had a classic side car with a Honda 750 SOHC engine. These things are a different kettle of fish entirely. Whereas the F2's and F1's have a platform at the back and the passenger leans out on the left behind the sidecar wheel , these have a long narrow platform. The passenger leans out on the right the same as the modern machines but on the left the passenger must move forwards to lean out ahead of the side car wheel. A modern passenger will often have a knee slider attached to the leathers at his left bum cheek as that is what is likely to scrape the ground on left handers. A classic passenger will have a slider attached to the left shoulder. I was asking him about this and telling him that I had come down looking to get a ride on an F2. He told me that the guy with him was trying out for him but didn't like it so he was still looking for a passenger. He suggested I come to Brands Hatch at the end of March and be his passenger. I couldn't do that as it clashed with Allie's first race at Snetterton. I checked out the BMCRC and CRMC race meeting dates and that was the only one that clashed.
His name was Tony Sawyer and I had his phone number so I gave him a ring and said I would be available for all the other meetings. The next one being at Darley Moor in Derbyshire. Tony only lived about 30 miles from me so I arranged to meet him at his and travel up with him. So far I hadn't so much as turned a wheel on one of these machines and now I was going to go and race on one. My first experience of it would be the qualifying session. I took two helmets, two sets of leathers and two pairs of boots. The space on the platform is very restricted and the amount of movement required is quite large so I needed to be able to manoeuvre around quickly. I spent as much time in the paddock learning where the handholds were and how to move about on it. Allie and Tricia were with me giving advice. Then it was time to go out. I was all over the place!
Try as I might I couldn't figure out how to get in front of the sidecar wheel and back in so I ended up leaning over the top of the wheel in order to try to get at least some weight over there. Under braking there was nothing to really brace against so getting back to the rear to get over the right is hard too. Luckily Tony is a big fella and so the weight issue was not so bad on the predominant right handers. We got through it ok though and came back in. I was obviously a complete novice at this and over the next hour or so a number of people came up to give me advice having seen me scrambling about at random on the platform.
I practiced and practiced the moves I had been shown in the paddock and felt I had it sorted out. Of course I didn't have my leathers on and was wearing trainers. There was no G forces throwing me around. I did change helmets and leathers though before our first race. The helmet I had on was my old road helmet and I found that it was too low over my eyes to be able to see easily from the angles I was at. The leathers were my new ones but they had hard bits at the knees and elbows. Whilst they are great on the road they were so bulky at the knees that in the restricted space I had I found myself jammed in place. Also the seam at the knee was causing me a lot of pain whilst knelt on the platform. My other leather were an older style and less bulky, my new helmet is a lighter and the opening is higher up on my forehead. I felt happier with this set up.
They called us to the holding area for our first race. I jumped on and sat trying to look casual as we made out way through the paddock to the holding area. As we assembled there waiting for the previous race to finish and the track to be declared clear I felt my stomach tighten. I felt nauseous and wondered whether I was going to have to get my helmet off and run to the fence and throw up. I had the overwhelming urge to grab Tony and tell him I had made a huge mistake. I was panting and hyperventilating and had to really concentrate to get my breathing under control. Eventually we were cleared to go out for the sighting lap. That was better, I tried to practice the moves I had been doing in the paddock. I was further forward but still not able to get out the front properly. My timing was better but not right. We came round and entered the pit lane to form up on the grid. Watch the man with the red flag. It came up, then down and I switched my gaze to the man across the other side of the track with a Union Flag. All around me engines are revving, passengers are leaning over the back wheels. Drivers are intent on the starter. I am watching him too but wondering if someone will run into the back of us, I have my leg out to give us a push. Down goes the flag, I push but Tony has fluffed the start and the engine bogs down for a fraction of a second. I pull my leg in and he pulls in the clutch gives it a handful of throttle and we scream off the line catching other machines up as we head into the chicane. OK, shoulder left, shoulder right and tuck down. So far so good. We head down to the first right hander. Allie says wait until the braking is over before moving. I wait until it subsides a bit and start to try to get over the back wheel and only succeed in burying my head into Tony's side. This is far more aggressive than even the qualifying was. Tony has his race face on I guess. We are round the first right hander and accelerating down the straight. OK this one has more of a right-left and I need to get some weight out to the left. We hit it way faster than I think we should but I time it right and get over top of the wheel and we are through without tipping over. A short acceleration and we are at the only real left hander on the circuit. I fight my way forward but cannot get to the front loop to get out in the way I practiced but the inner front loop that I have had hold of is ok and I pull myself forward and out as much as I can. We are through! Short straight to the hairpin, I need to get back and over the wheel now! Fuck it! We are braking I bury my head in Tony's side again we skitter round the hairpin and I crouch down thinking this is the back straight. It all goes a little squirrely because there is a slight left. Damn it! I forgot that. OK head down and hang on this is a long straight before the right hander for the start of the next lap. I feel the forward push as we start to brake and brace my left arm. As I feel that ease slightly I pull myself back and over the wheel. We've done our first racing lap! As I settle in to this I am acutely aware that my boots are stopping me moving about properly. I struggle to get from the back of the platform to the front. My timing is sometimes good sometimes bad but we get through it and then the race is over. We come back into the paddock and our friends are all stood waiting. I feel like I did a crap job but I also feel elated. That was my first ever race. I take my helmet off and Tony is stood there with a huge grin on his face. I grin at him and offer my hand and get a bear hug instead. I can't stop talking. I'm still trying to jabber away as I take huge gulps of water.
Once I calm down I get to analysing what I did wrong and where and how to change what I am doing. First thing is switch boots. The others are more supple and less bulky around the toes. The second race of the day is held over until the morning due to delays in other races. On Sunday morning we head off to the holding area once again. This time I don't feel quite so sick but I still want to tell Tony I made a mistake. Then we are out. This time I can move better, I have found out that I need to be further forward on the platform and not hanging my toes over the back. This makes everything much easier and I get most of the changes done at the right time. For a lot of the corners I find that moving while on the straight and getting over the wheel is much better than waiting until after braking. We are having problems with the gearbox however and it keeps jumping out of gear. A couple of laps in and we hit a right hander and the outfit starts to slide. Tony backs off the throttle and it corrects. The next corner is the same and I find I quite like that. Two more laps sliding around the corners and the race is red flagged. Someone has blown up and dropped oil all round the circuit. That is why we are sliding around so much. In our third race I stand in the holding area and I am more concerned that it is chilly and I feel cold than about wanting to run away. Come on! Let's get on with it it is bloody freezing stood here! Then we go out for the sighting lap and line up. We get a good start and I am feeling much more confident. The boots allow me to move better. The left hander comes up and I find that the inner front loop isn't good enough any more so I lean further and grab the front outer loop and get much further out. Almost in front of the wheel this time. I think I am getting the hang of things and starting to enjoy it. Two laps down and we head up the straight through the wiggles into the right hander and accelerate down the top straight towards the other wiggles. Right, left forward to the loop and get out for the left hander. Now back and over the right. It is coming together. Down and slightly left then tuck right down for the long back straight. I am crouched face to the platform, the front sprocket right by my ear below Tony's leg. I hear him gas it and change gear and feel the pull trying to force me back. Then there is a bang and clattering sound and we slew off to the left and come to a halt. I get my hand in the air and check behind. We try to push the outfit to the side to get it off the track but it won't move. The wheel is locked up. We grab the back end and lift and shove it to the side. A marshal comes running over and asks if we can get it right off the track. He gives us a hand and we get it onto the lane that becomes the pit lane. That is us done. The gearbox has blown up. It is such a disappointment, things were really starting to come together. Now we have to wait a month until Anglesey for our next race.
Tony has a new engine in bits and over the following week I go over and help him build it. It has a close ratio gear box and lots of nice goodies in it and promises to be a really good engine.
Two weeks after that race meeting Allie has her second meeting at Pembrey in South Wales. She also has bought a camper van. After her first race meeting at Snetterton in March where we spent an extremely cold and snowy weekend in a transit van on an air bed it is the lap of luxury. She tells me there is a rider in the F1 class looking for a passenger for the Friday practice session. I text him to see if he still needs someone. He phones back and we are on for the practice. I am going out on an F1! I check out who he is and find that he is one of the really fast riders in the class and I feel a bit intimidated. When we meet up at Pembrey he is a really nice guy and it is obvious he is willing to take it easy as I am a total novice. He suggests that I just sit in the middle if I don't feel I can move about. We head out on our first session entering the track just before the end of the big sweeping left hander. I position myself behind the sidecar wheel and mentally run through how to change and where the handholds are. He gently accelerates out of it and onto the straight. I have been told that I should just stay over the back wheel and only come in to go out for the left hander by other passengers. So as we hit the dead spot out of the left I climb over the back and stay there. Right, right and onto the back straight. Bloody hell this thing accelerates! Down the straight and round the slight right at Woodlands towards the Honda Curve. I can see that James is checking to see how I am positioned. We go round Honda Curve on the start/finish straight and accelerate. This is fast, then I grunt as he hits the brakes for the hairpin. OK round the hairpin, move my right hand up to the upper hand hold ready for the next right. Round that and drop down to my knees and across to the left. Brace my right foot against the back inner corner of the platform and get my bum out. We sail round the left handers, the first time I have got out on a modern outfit. I like that. OK wait to feel the dead spot and move. Over the back wheel and reach down for the lower hand hold. Round the Esses and into the Brooklands Hairpin and then . . . .tuck in and grit my teeth as we accelerate down the straight round Woodlands and down to the Honda Curve.
The night before Allie and her team mates walked the circuit with me and Kev pointed out a bump just after the Honda Curve. It was difficult to see, just the slightest dip then some discoloured tarmac with gouges in it. You have to look from a low angle to see it it is that slight. Now however I am looking forwards and I can see that discolouration ahead right in our line. Wallop! It knocks the breath out of me and dislodges my footing. I fight to regain my footing whilst we accelerate again. We are getting faster with each lap then the session is over. James seems quite pleased with me as we talk through it. In the second session he has obviously decided I am OK and we hit the circuit much faster this time. The acceleration is harsher, the braking heavier. At the hairpin the back wheel is sliding, at the left handers I feel the sidecar wheel glancing over the top of the castellated concrete on the inner apex at the edge of the track and move slightly in and the wheel comes up a little. I lean out again before the final part of the turn to get the wheel down again. Dead spot and over to the right. The laps get faster still. I am getting tired quickly now and I miss the dead spot out of the left handers. Only just and I manage to struggle over the back wheel in time. I can feel my breathing is heavy. My arms are pumped. I have pain in the base of my left thumb where the bodywork turns down by the left hand handhold. We come out of Honda Curve and over that bump again. There is a massive jolt of pain in my thumb. As we brake into the hairpin I feel like I am going to be thrown over James' head with the G force. I know I cannot do this safely for much longer. I contemplate tapping him, but when? I shall have to plan that in advance. We continue round at an excruciating pace until we get to the straight before Woodlands. I do tap him then, but very lightly. I kind of know that he hasn't felt it. I am trying to kid myself that it will be OK and grit my teeth for the final few laps. Two laps later we pull in. I show him my hand and tell him I can't go out again as it is too painful. He seems happy with what we have done though. Later I told him I am around at most of the BMCRC meetings as Allie is doing side cars too so if he needs me I should be available. He seems pleased by this. That is my time on the circuit done for the weekend, now it is time to revert to being support to Allie. I am pleased, bruised but very pleased. I have got an extra fix between my races.
In the summer of last year my friend Allie said she was thinking of going back to sidecar racing after a break of 18 years. She said she wanted to try her hand at driving one and asked if I would be her passenger. Without giving it any thought whatsoever I told her that I would and thought no more of it. I thought it was just a bit of an escapist dream. Some weeks later she told me there was a thing called 'The International Festival of Sidecars' at Mallory Park Circuit and they were doing 'Taxi Rides'. This is where spectators and fans can have a go on the platform to see what it is like. This was due to happen in October and would I go with her and would I like to have a go.
I have ridden motorbikes all my life on the road but never been on a race track. In my youth I thrashed about on a Yamaha YDS7 250 and then progressed to a Suzuki GT500A. After that I bought a Norton Commando 850 MkIII and got involved in the 'biker' scene eventually joining the National Chopper Club. That was in the 70's, in the 80's after suffering a nervous breakdown or stress burnout (I am never quite sure how to describe it as I was serving in the forces at the time and continued to serve throughout without it being diagnosed to my knowledge) I estranged myself from my NCC friends and re-invented myself as a more mainstream biker hanging out with local clubs and riding a Yamaha XS1100. After leaving the forces in the mid 80's I went to work for Lotus in Norfolk as an R&D technician. It was there that I got closest to racing. The place was riddled with racers but I still never considered doing it myself. I had a test track licence and used to take cars out for testing. That was as close as it got. I still got my kicks tearing around on a motorbike on public roads.
After leaving Lotus I went back to my original trade of aircraft technician and went contracting in Europe. The bikes took a sideline as it was not practical. On my return in the mid 90's I went to work for Ricardo Consulting Engineers in Shoreham and bought myself a Kawasaki GPZ1000RX. For the first time in my life I also bought a set of leathers. Wearing those on the bike made such a difference! I was used to denim flapping about and crappy leather jackets with collars flapping and filling up with wind. Unfortunately however, I was descending into another extremely heavy depression. This had been happening throughout my last couple of years in Europe and by '97 had really got me in its grip. I forced a breakup with my then partner and isolated myself again and existed in a world of darkness and a home that was merely trails through dust and cobwebs.
It was about this time I was visiting family in Florida and was talking to a musician friend. He suggested I go and see a psychotherapist. Well he's american, what do you expect? On my return however I did investigate this. Four or five years of heavy depression in my late teens and early twenties and now a further four or five years by this point - I needed to do something to try to figure out why I was suffering so. I finally settled on one I thought might be able to help and settled in to a routine of weekly one hour sessions. I would talk openly about my exploits and experiences but blocked anything that got too close to areas in which I felt uncomfortable. For six months we played this game of attack and defence followed by me paying her for trying to get me to 'fess up my innermost secrets whilst I danced around sidestepping these attempts. One evening I was in mid-rant about something and she quietly asked me a direct question. It stopped me mid-word. I can still hear my inner voice saying 'well you either acknowledge this now, openly, or you get up and leave never to return.' That was the breakthrough that was required. I acknowledged this rather minor fact about myself and suddenly over the next few weeks a whole torrent of rather more significant 'facts' came pouring forth from somewhere deep in the depths of my mind. It was the start of a major change in my life.
Although that initial series of revelations occurred within a few weeks it actually took about ten years to deal with it and change my learned responses in order to stop punishing myself over these issues. I had lost my job at Ricardo, gone through a tribunal. I realised my home in Shoreham was in need of major renovation which was exacerbated by my depression and lack of will to do anything. I sold a share of it to a friend and began a new career in a test lab with an aerospace company in Farnborough. I was commuting as the house couldn't be sold in the state it was in. It was now about 2007 and I was living in digs during the week and becoming depressed again!! I sat myself down and talked through what I was doing with my life. I had developed an interest in buying a boat and toyed with the idea of just sailing off and living on the boat. I had never sailed in my life but that didn't put me off. I had begun to play the harmonica while I was contracting in Europe and become quite good at it and played in bands locally. A friend I had met through this was in the process of selling his house, having bought a boat and was planning on sailing the Atlantic I went out with him and was sick as a dog. He asked if I wanted to accompany him on his voyage and I was giving serious consideration to this. I decided to hand in my notice at work. I had no dependants so there was no reason for me to be living this solitary life in digs away from friends. I had no mortgage and could live quite cheaply.
I ended up staying on part time at that job for another year earning good money as a contractor training up new engineers. The new found leisure time meant I could go out in the evenings and play harmonica and socialise with other musicians. I reacquainted myself with a number of them and one guy I had seen around playing drums but never really got to know came over and we became friends. It turned out he was an original founder member of the show Stomp and was the guy on all the posters depicted flying through the air in martial arts style with bin lids as shields. Before long I realised he had hit hard times and quite often other friends would suggest that he should take me on as his manager. That presented a problem. Did I go sailing or did I try and make a living in music. It was at this point I realised that the sailing thing was a mental escape from my lifestyle at the time. I went into music full time.
Theseus is a gregarious but tortured soul and he took me around all sorts of places and forced me to socialise. That was something I found incredibly hard to do. I could get up and perform musically but put me face to face with people and I was terrified. The inevitable compliments one receives as a musician from music fans was a nightmare scenario for me. I never knew how to deal with it, were they just being nice to me or did they feel sorry for me? It never occurred to me they might simply think I was actually a good musician. However as the years of this went by I did get used to it and gained in confidence. As I gained confidence I felt my old self resurfacing. I am a naturally gobby, smiley, caring person with a rather dry sense of humour. I think over the last six or seven years we have helped each other immensely. It has been an emotional roller coaster however with some very hard times.
So how does all this relate to the title of Sidecar Racing? It all seems a bit Ronnie Corbett so far hey?
Well, my good friend and housemate Tricia (who has a good blog on here at http://scoobleracing.blogspot.co.uk/) had for some years been building a hybrid two stroke 250 to do track days with. She had raced in the early 90's but given up. I started to go with her on the track days as her mechanic and general helper and supporter. I could see that although she got some enjoyment out of this it was racing that she craved. I spoke to her about it but she said that she couldn't devote the time end energy it takes to take up racing again. I suggested that she view it differently and instead of contesting an entire season she just pick and choose her races and view it as a track day where you could race. She considered that and last year began to contest a few races. I really enjoyed those weekends with her and the racing bug kind of entered into me too. Now here was Allie talking about sidecar racing.
We filled out the forms necessary to do the taxi rides at Mallory and off we went in her little MX5. We arrived there quite early so while we waited for the signing on time to arrive we watched the racing. It was cold and damp and we saw a few sidecars miss the turn into Edwina's. Then we saw a rather scruffy looking outfit spin off completely and throw the passenger out. The driver had an orange novice jacket on and I jokingly said to Allie that he was probably the guy we were going out with.
Signing on time arrived and we went to find out who we would be going out with. We were both going out on number 818. We searched the paddock but couldn't find the outfit. There was only one place we didn't look and that was the scruffy one we saw spin. Eventually we went to have a look there and sure enough the number in masking tape on it was . . . . 818! Whoops. We introduced ourselves and chatted to the guys before they went out for their final race before the taxi rides started. We went off to find somewhere to watch from. A couple of laps in and 818 failed to come round. It turned out that they had gone straight on at the hairpin. The passenger had bailed out and the driver had hit the barrier and broken his shoulder. We went back to the office and got reassigned new rides. I was due to go out with John Longmore on his rather nicely prepared F2. As we stood in the pit lane awaiting our turns I got a little nervous. Everyone was saying don't hold too tightly or you'll get arm pump in one breath and in another saying make sure you hold on at all times or you'll get thrown out. I got as much advice as I could and made myself familiar with the hand holds and ran through where I should be for which turns in my head. Then I was kneeling on the platform and we were rolling out onto the circuit as it just started to spit with rain. It came out onto the end of the straight and into Gerards a long sweeping right hander. I climbed over the back and leant out over the back wheel and watched the grass whizz by my face as we accelerated round and onto the back straight. I had braced my left foot into the rear corner of the platform and as we approached the left/right/left of Edwina's I tried to get out of the left side of the platform and found myself going upwards instead! My foot was still jammed into the corner. John looked round at me and saw my predicament and eased up. I cursed myself and tried to mentally figure out what I was to do. By now we were heading up to the hairpin, I got back over the rear wheel and hung out as far as I could. Through the bus stop round the slight left and onto the start finish straight. This was exhilarating. I never did quite manage to figure the move over to the left on the next two laps but I got enough weight over to make it work then it was all over. No!!!! Surely we could go a few more times so I could figure this out properly. Damn, I was cursing myself and wondering when I could next get a go at this.
We drove back down to the south coast talking about our day. Sometime over the next few months Allie found a website and also found herself a rider that was looking for a passenger on an F1. She was getting herself back into racing and I felt a little left out. It felt like she needed me to hold her hand while she investigated the situation and then discarded me when she got a ride. I was a little put out by this. Then she told me that there was a try out day at Lydden Hill in March. Did I want to go to that? Tricia and I both decided to go with her and filled out the forms. Her rider also sponsored an F1 National class rider called Barry James. We went to sign on and I was due to go out with Barry.
Again it was wet and cold. Barry told me to just stay in round the left handers as it was wet, it needed traction on the back wheel as well as some balance for the sidecar wheel. It is a compromise in the wet. This was not taxi rides but also not race pace it was somewhere in between. We went out and Barry opened it up. It blew my mind. The G force around the first right hander was incredible and the corner seemed to go on and on. I felt my leg starting to buckle under the force. I mentally reminded myself to lock my leg out straight. The monocoque chassis was digging into my side just above my hip then we approached the left hander. Ah! Relief, I slumped down into a kneeling position as we exited and headed up the hill to the hairpin. Up and back over the right hand side, grab the handhold at the base of the body, lock out my leg. I was thrown around as we bumped and slid our way round then I felt myself sliding backwards as we accelerated down hill towards the final right hander before the start/finish straight. I stayed over the rear wheel and then I heard myself grunt as the G loading hit again around the bend and acceleration as we headed down the straight. One lap done. I was knackered! I wondered how long we were going to be out for. On and on it went. Push as we braked, leg buckling as we loaded up the G's and hanging on for dear life as I was bounced around as we accelerated. A second's rest round the left hander and off we went again. Lap after lap. It seemed like forever. I was gasping for breath, my visor was misted up, I was hurting, my left forearm was pumped. My left thigh felt like it would burst any moment. Then we slowed and pulled in to the pit lane, it was over. I was so happy it was over but I needed to do that again. The adrenaline was sloshing around my veins.
Next I went out on the Team Sloane machine. I went over to them and they had me sitting differently. Instead of kneeling I was sitting on the side of my right thigh. I am a rather long limbed beastie and I couldn't actually get my backside flat like that and my chest was forced into the chassis handhold. It was very uncomfortable but I tried to do it. We went out and I found it so much harder and more physically demanding like that. About two laps before the end of the session I had to 'tap out' and get him to pull in early. I was so out of breath and physically drained that I knew I was in danger of falling off. I got off and could hardly stand up which seemed to amuse the Sloanes. I vowed there and then to start getting fitter.
Back at the car I got talking to the guy parked up next to us. He had a classic side car with a Honda 750 SOHC engine. These things are a different kettle of fish entirely. Whereas the F2's and F1's have a platform at the back and the passenger leans out on the left behind the sidecar wheel , these have a long narrow platform. The passenger leans out on the right the same as the modern machines but on the left the passenger must move forwards to lean out ahead of the side car wheel. A modern passenger will often have a knee slider attached to the leathers at his left bum cheek as that is what is likely to scrape the ground on left handers. A classic passenger will have a slider attached to the left shoulder. I was asking him about this and telling him that I had come down looking to get a ride on an F2. He told me that the guy with him was trying out for him but didn't like it so he was still looking for a passenger. He suggested I come to Brands Hatch at the end of March and be his passenger. I couldn't do that as it clashed with Allie's first race at Snetterton. I checked out the BMCRC and CRMC race meeting dates and that was the only one that clashed.
His name was Tony Sawyer and I had his phone number so I gave him a ring and said I would be available for all the other meetings. The next one being at Darley Moor in Derbyshire. Tony only lived about 30 miles from me so I arranged to meet him at his and travel up with him. So far I hadn't so much as turned a wheel on one of these machines and now I was going to go and race on one. My first experience of it would be the qualifying session. I took two helmets, two sets of leathers and two pairs of boots. The space on the platform is very restricted and the amount of movement required is quite large so I needed to be able to manoeuvre around quickly. I spent as much time in the paddock learning where the handholds were and how to move about on it. Allie and Tricia were with me giving advice. Then it was time to go out. I was all over the place!
Try as I might I couldn't figure out how to get in front of the sidecar wheel and back in so I ended up leaning over the top of the wheel in order to try to get at least some weight over there. Under braking there was nothing to really brace against so getting back to the rear to get over the right is hard too. Luckily Tony is a big fella and so the weight issue was not so bad on the predominant right handers. We got through it ok though and came back in. I was obviously a complete novice at this and over the next hour or so a number of people came up to give me advice having seen me scrambling about at random on the platform.
I practiced and practiced the moves I had been shown in the paddock and felt I had it sorted out. Of course I didn't have my leathers on and was wearing trainers. There was no G forces throwing me around. I did change helmets and leathers though before our first race. The helmet I had on was my old road helmet and I found that it was too low over my eyes to be able to see easily from the angles I was at. The leathers were my new ones but they had hard bits at the knees and elbows. Whilst they are great on the road they were so bulky at the knees that in the restricted space I had I found myself jammed in place. Also the seam at the knee was causing me a lot of pain whilst knelt on the platform. My other leather were an older style and less bulky, my new helmet is a lighter and the opening is higher up on my forehead. I felt happier with this set up.
They called us to the holding area for our first race. I jumped on and sat trying to look casual as we made out way through the paddock to the holding area. As we assembled there waiting for the previous race to finish and the track to be declared clear I felt my stomach tighten. I felt nauseous and wondered whether I was going to have to get my helmet off and run to the fence and throw up. I had the overwhelming urge to grab Tony and tell him I had made a huge mistake. I was panting and hyperventilating and had to really concentrate to get my breathing under control. Eventually we were cleared to go out for the sighting lap. That was better, I tried to practice the moves I had been doing in the paddock. I was further forward but still not able to get out the front properly. My timing was better but not right. We came round and entered the pit lane to form up on the grid. Watch the man with the red flag. It came up, then down and I switched my gaze to the man across the other side of the track with a Union Flag. All around me engines are revving, passengers are leaning over the back wheels. Drivers are intent on the starter. I am watching him too but wondering if someone will run into the back of us, I have my leg out to give us a push. Down goes the flag, I push but Tony has fluffed the start and the engine bogs down for a fraction of a second. I pull my leg in and he pulls in the clutch gives it a handful of throttle and we scream off the line catching other machines up as we head into the chicane. OK, shoulder left, shoulder right and tuck down. So far so good. We head down to the first right hander. Allie says wait until the braking is over before moving. I wait until it subsides a bit and start to try to get over the back wheel and only succeed in burying my head into Tony's side. This is far more aggressive than even the qualifying was. Tony has his race face on I guess. We are round the first right hander and accelerating down the straight. OK this one has more of a right-left and I need to get some weight out to the left. We hit it way faster than I think we should but I time it right and get over top of the wheel and we are through without tipping over. A short acceleration and we are at the only real left hander on the circuit. I fight my way forward but cannot get to the front loop to get out in the way I practiced but the inner front loop that I have had hold of is ok and I pull myself forward and out as much as I can. We are through! Short straight to the hairpin, I need to get back and over the wheel now! Fuck it! We are braking I bury my head in Tony's side again we skitter round the hairpin and I crouch down thinking this is the back straight. It all goes a little squirrely because there is a slight left. Damn it! I forgot that. OK head down and hang on this is a long straight before the right hander for the start of the next lap. I feel the forward push as we start to brake and brace my left arm. As I feel that ease slightly I pull myself back and over the wheel. We've done our first racing lap! As I settle in to this I am acutely aware that my boots are stopping me moving about properly. I struggle to get from the back of the platform to the front. My timing is sometimes good sometimes bad but we get through it and then the race is over. We come back into the paddock and our friends are all stood waiting. I feel like I did a crap job but I also feel elated. That was my first ever race. I take my helmet off and Tony is stood there with a huge grin on his face. I grin at him and offer my hand and get a bear hug instead. I can't stop talking. I'm still trying to jabber away as I take huge gulps of water.
Once I calm down I get to analysing what I did wrong and where and how to change what I am doing. First thing is switch boots. The others are more supple and less bulky around the toes. The second race of the day is held over until the morning due to delays in other races. On Sunday morning we head off to the holding area once again. This time I don't feel quite so sick but I still want to tell Tony I made a mistake. Then we are out. This time I can move better, I have found out that I need to be further forward on the platform and not hanging my toes over the back. This makes everything much easier and I get most of the changes done at the right time. For a lot of the corners I find that moving while on the straight and getting over the wheel is much better than waiting until after braking. We are having problems with the gearbox however and it keeps jumping out of gear. A couple of laps in and we hit a right hander and the outfit starts to slide. Tony backs off the throttle and it corrects. The next corner is the same and I find I quite like that. Two more laps sliding around the corners and the race is red flagged. Someone has blown up and dropped oil all round the circuit. That is why we are sliding around so much. In our third race I stand in the holding area and I am more concerned that it is chilly and I feel cold than about wanting to run away. Come on! Let's get on with it it is bloody freezing stood here! Then we go out for the sighting lap and line up. We get a good start and I am feeling much more confident. The boots allow me to move better. The left hander comes up and I find that the inner front loop isn't good enough any more so I lean further and grab the front outer loop and get much further out. Almost in front of the wheel this time. I think I am getting the hang of things and starting to enjoy it. Two laps down and we head up the straight through the wiggles into the right hander and accelerate down the top straight towards the other wiggles. Right, left forward to the loop and get out for the left hander. Now back and over the right. It is coming together. Down and slightly left then tuck right down for the long back straight. I am crouched face to the platform, the front sprocket right by my ear below Tony's leg. I hear him gas it and change gear and feel the pull trying to force me back. Then there is a bang and clattering sound and we slew off to the left and come to a halt. I get my hand in the air and check behind. We try to push the outfit to the side to get it off the track but it won't move. The wheel is locked up. We grab the back end and lift and shove it to the side. A marshal comes running over and asks if we can get it right off the track. He gives us a hand and we get it onto the lane that becomes the pit lane. That is us done. The gearbox has blown up. It is such a disappointment, things were really starting to come together. Now we have to wait a month until Anglesey for our next race.
Tony has a new engine in bits and over the following week I go over and help him build it. It has a close ratio gear box and lots of nice goodies in it and promises to be a really good engine.
Two weeks after that race meeting Allie has her second meeting at Pembrey in South Wales. She also has bought a camper van. After her first race meeting at Snetterton in March where we spent an extremely cold and snowy weekend in a transit van on an air bed it is the lap of luxury. She tells me there is a rider in the F1 class looking for a passenger for the Friday practice session. I text him to see if he still needs someone. He phones back and we are on for the practice. I am going out on an F1! I check out who he is and find that he is one of the really fast riders in the class and I feel a bit intimidated. When we meet up at Pembrey he is a really nice guy and it is obvious he is willing to take it easy as I am a total novice. He suggests that I just sit in the middle if I don't feel I can move about. We head out on our first session entering the track just before the end of the big sweeping left hander. I position myself behind the sidecar wheel and mentally run through how to change and where the handholds are. He gently accelerates out of it and onto the straight. I have been told that I should just stay over the back wheel and only come in to go out for the left hander by other passengers. So as we hit the dead spot out of the left I climb over the back and stay there. Right, right and onto the back straight. Bloody hell this thing accelerates! Down the straight and round the slight right at Woodlands towards the Honda Curve. I can see that James is checking to see how I am positioned. We go round Honda Curve on the start/finish straight and accelerate. This is fast, then I grunt as he hits the brakes for the hairpin. OK round the hairpin, move my right hand up to the upper hand hold ready for the next right. Round that and drop down to my knees and across to the left. Brace my right foot against the back inner corner of the platform and get my bum out. We sail round the left handers, the first time I have got out on a modern outfit. I like that. OK wait to feel the dead spot and move. Over the back wheel and reach down for the lower hand hold. Round the Esses and into the Brooklands Hairpin and then . . . .tuck in and grit my teeth as we accelerate down the straight round Woodlands and down to the Honda Curve.
The night before Allie and her team mates walked the circuit with me and Kev pointed out a bump just after the Honda Curve. It was difficult to see, just the slightest dip then some discoloured tarmac with gouges in it. You have to look from a low angle to see it it is that slight. Now however I am looking forwards and I can see that discolouration ahead right in our line. Wallop! It knocks the breath out of me and dislodges my footing. I fight to regain my footing whilst we accelerate again. We are getting faster with each lap then the session is over. James seems quite pleased with me as we talk through it. In the second session he has obviously decided I am OK and we hit the circuit much faster this time. The acceleration is harsher, the braking heavier. At the hairpin the back wheel is sliding, at the left handers I feel the sidecar wheel glancing over the top of the castellated concrete on the inner apex at the edge of the track and move slightly in and the wheel comes up a little. I lean out again before the final part of the turn to get the wheel down again. Dead spot and over to the right. The laps get faster still. I am getting tired quickly now and I miss the dead spot out of the left handers. Only just and I manage to struggle over the back wheel in time. I can feel my breathing is heavy. My arms are pumped. I have pain in the base of my left thumb where the bodywork turns down by the left hand handhold. We come out of Honda Curve and over that bump again. There is a massive jolt of pain in my thumb. As we brake into the hairpin I feel like I am going to be thrown over James' head with the G force. I know I cannot do this safely for much longer. I contemplate tapping him, but when? I shall have to plan that in advance. We continue round at an excruciating pace until we get to the straight before Woodlands. I do tap him then, but very lightly. I kind of know that he hasn't felt it. I am trying to kid myself that it will be OK and grit my teeth for the final few laps. Two laps later we pull in. I show him my hand and tell him I can't go out again as it is too painful. He seems happy with what we have done though. Later I told him I am around at most of the BMCRC meetings as Allie is doing side cars too so if he needs me I should be available. He seems pleased by this. That is my time on the circuit done for the weekend, now it is time to revert to being support to Allie. I am pleased, bruised but very pleased. I have got an extra fix between my races.
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