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.