Taking a breather...
By TMX Archives on 15th May 03
I love it, stuffing my fat ginger wordhole full of chocolate eggs to the point where I'm going to end up with more stretch marks than Venessa Feltz. EASTER WEEKEND! I love it, stuffing my fat ginger wordhole full of chocolate eggs to the point where I'm going to end up with more stretch marks than Venessa Feltz. I usually eat so much I'm close to bursting like Mr Creosote in that legendary Monty Python sketch. This year, however, I decided to shun the usual choc extravaganza and instead fill my face with the finest sand that Norfolk can offer - and man did I binge.Lyng has nipped at my butt cheeks several times before but this time it sunk its gnashers in and took a big bite. Even so I have to say I kinda enjoyed it. The circuit was real good and was made even better by being drenched by the ol' current bun in the sky.Unfortunately, the MX gods weren't shining on me so brightly. In the first moto I managed to ride all of 500 yards before being punted to the ground with my mouth acting as the human equivalent of a digger bucket. I tell ya, those boys at Bernard Matthews are talking crap when they say their turkey products are the taste of Norfolk because I've eaten them and they don't taste anything like it. I actually made a good start in the top eight only to be torpedoed by someone whose identity escaped me as I curled up on the ground waiting to be blessed with the pain of a motorcycle hitting my spine.Surprisingly, I didn't quit and after racing as hard as I could I got a 22nd place finish from half-a-lap behind. Perhaps I tried a little too hard because in moto two I was holding down a solid eighth until I got snaky a few times while breathing outta my ass and eventually rolled in 11th. The cup race was a copy of the first, only this time I lasted a few hundred yards more before John May decided he wanted to take the Norfolk taste challenge with me and threw himself under my wheels. I DNFed the moto with nappy rash as bad as if my Andrex had been replaced with sandpaper.After a few days of liberal use with the E45 cream it was off to the bicycle show with the Stolen BMX gang. I only stayed for one day but in that time I did get to see Dave Mirra ride. He's awesome, in fact they all were and I also went on a 40 taxi trip from our hotel to our hotel! Still, isn't Birmingham a picture at night.The weekend journey didn't end there. Off to Lancaster I went to hook up with big chief Lawless for the trip to the Isle of Man. I had the luxury of taking a car as Rob Bradley and the Kennet family very kindly offered to take the bike for me. Thanks once again...We'd only been on 'The Island' for all of 10 minutes when Lawless managed to break what he called his 'thumb toe'. With the state that he was in, he wasn't the best one of the five of us to go searching for a hotel for the night. But how we laughed when he was forced to hop almost the entire length of Douglas prom until, about an hour later, we found a hotel foolish enough to let us kip down for the night. And what a hotel - pink as Rosco's butt with a remarkably similar odour! As it happened only four of us spent the night there because Sutty got locked out so he actually paid 20 to sleep in the car. The good news was I slept like a sedated bear in late autumn.The next day I rode like one n' all - perhaps I should have shared my bed with Mr Jack Daniels after all. In my first ever race on the Isle of Man I crossed the finish line 11th but was strangely awarded 12th. It turned out that the transponder wire was about 15ft past the chequered flag and, as I was slipping off my goggles, Jamie Law cruised by and pushed me back a notch. I accepted the result as I couldn't be arsed to argue - I'm too long in the tooth for that - but I did tell them to get it sorted before it happens to someone important. The second race consisted of a bad start, a snapped footpeg and a ridiculous crash which I'm sure has put me outside the top 10 in the series.I soon forgot about the racing when Sutty took to the wheel and scared me stupid driving around the TT course. We even managed to get air off the famous Ballaugh Bridge after we'd already been pulled by the boys in blue when the lunatic in (so-called) control pulled a move on a women in her 90s at the traffic lights.That whole experience was an eye-opener - those TT boys aren't playing with a full deck, that's for sure. My heart rate had come back to normal by the time we'd filled two hours with plenty of laughs waiting for a late ferry. Ask Sutty what a breather ring is and you'll see what I mean - although I'll never be able to do one again after the TT experience.Words by Jeff Perrett Photo by Slutty