It was then he told me he had ridden at the Isle
of Man.
I was stunned, and naturally asked what he had
been aboard and in what category of action.
He laughed and said “no, no, no… no competitive
activity involved”.
He had been riding his scooter on a brief section
of the course and with a broad smile said he
always felt proud to be able to say “I rode at the
Isle of Man.”
That’s when I told him I had too, and he was
slightly stunned, because he knew I had a history
of motorcycling, but never knew I’d been to the
Isle of Man.
Yep, and on one pleasant evening I briefly
borrowed a local chap’s 350 Ducati and ventured
upon the circuit for about half a mile then took
it back… to the pub where a bunch of us were
sampling rich brews I think they referred to as
‘brown unders’.
So yeah, I told my late chum, I had also ridden at
the Isle of Man. Then we started talking about
some of the great riders of his era and mine,
30 % Lighter.
Double the safety.
Longest slide time.
READY FOR the road.
Ride Free. Ride
VISIT dragginjeans.net
and only a month or so before he sadly ailed
and left us, he gave me an autograph he had
long had since the days he watched the action
on the tracks.
It is the autograph of the legendary Geoff Duke, and
it now sits upon the photo I have of the great chap.
Neither of us, despite our many previous
conversations (usually about how the Saints were
managing to survive in the Premier League) had
any idea the other had been to, and savoured the
power and the passion of TT week.
So these days, as I wander down to the shops,
or the bottle store, I look at people I pass and
wonder if they had ever pursued a passion for
motorcycling.
And when I see a stranger bearing a knee, elbow
or hand scar I am almost tempted to ask them
to excuse my impertinence but was that from a
mis-timed spot of cornering or braking?
And have they ever heard of a chap called
Valentino Rossi? But I do not, of course. Because
if I did, and the answer was affirmative, I’d never
get back home. Too much to talk about.