100th anniversary of the Isle of Man TT
(Page 4 of 6)
November/December 2007
Story and photos by Jason Roberts
Spectator paradise
Among the TT’s many pleasures is how close you can get to the action; just find an empty spot along the road or a spot on a wall (or grandstands, in a few key places) to sit on to check out the bikes shooting past little more than an arm’s length away. Watching the first bikes leave the starting line from Bray Hill about 1/4 mile away during the Junior TT race, I nearly had the wind sucked from my lungs as a slime-green Kawasaki tore by at Warp Factor Nine, then dropped from sight down the hill like a brick off a building. Later, when my buddy Ian Foster took me for a spin around the Isle on the back of his CBX (with six-into-six pipes, sounding just like a Ferrari!), I felt my stomach sink as we descended the same hill — at a piddling 60mph. Imagine what it must feel like at over twice that speed.
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Civilians are allowed to ride the course during the off hours, and for the entire fortnight (that’s two weeks in American-speak) the mountain section is one-way only so the assembled hooligan hordes can safely speed around the course’s open sweepers without fear of oncoming traffic. On Mad Sunday, the traditional “let ‘er rip” day when speed limits are suspended on this section, wannabe racers can wind the throttle back to the stop with only the size of their cojones — and those nasty stone walls and cattle fences — to hold them back. Unfortunately (or fortunately, for some) Mad Sunday 2007 was rained out, which kept the speeds — and crashes — to a minimum. Thankfully, the rest of race week was gloriously sunny, if not exactly balmy-warm.
Once you’ve experienced the TT, even MotoGP racing seems tame and somehow artificial. There’s also a camaraderie on the island that I’ve never seen at any other race or bike gathering. It’s a big commitment to visit the TT, even if you live in the UK, so the type of moto-phile you’re likely to meet tends to be the sort of extreme gearhead/two-wheel junkie who can carry on a fascinating conversation on motorcycle minutiae for hours, preferably over some of the fine local brews. It’s also amazing to behold the sheer variety of the visiting fans’ bikes. Sure, there are tons of new machines, and that’s all good, but where else do you see German Adlers, English Scott Flying Squirrels, Italian Moto Guzzi Falcones and French Voxans, and all of them running down the road?
Classic focus
Of course, this being the Centenary TT, the classics were exceptionally well-represented. Nortons, Vincents, Triumphs, MV Agustas — you name it, they were there on the Isle, most ridden rather than trailered. I’ll never forget watching a 1900-something Norton waiting at a stoplight as I enjoyed a brew in a roadside pub, its exposed pushrods and valve gear fluttering away under the long metal tank, the rider clad in period leather helmet and goggles, gripping the hand shifter. Most notable was the re-enactment of the very first TT on opening day, featuring those same period-costumed riders on 100 concours-quality machines from 1907, riding along the original St. John’s Course; one Dr. George Cohen rode the actual 1907 Norton that started the whole event, which was kicked off by Blackpool town crier Barry McQueen and famous TT racer Geoff Duke. Ancient singles and twins putt-putted away in pairs, total-loss oil systems dripping, valves clattering, leather drive belts straining.
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