Cross-dressing, young men in Lycra and geezas with porn star 'taches - yep, just a typical month in the life of TWO test rider and racing legend James Whitham
Craig Jones, Cal Crutchlow, Billy McConnell, Rob Mac and myself headed out into some local woods for a bit of practice. One thing became immediately apparent: only me and Rob were the least bit interested in laying out sections. The young guns just wanted to do wheelies, stoppies, race each other and generally mess about. I got sucked in and found myself dicking about like a good 'un. Rob Mac despaired of us, he loves trials he does. Fortunately we broke most of the bikes before we could do ourselves any permanent damage.
I found a little airstrip about eight miles away.
The racing was some of the most incident-strewn I've ever seen. They were going down like Jenna Jameson. And because Snett is quick most of the crashes were spectacular. Hope everyone is okay - sometimes I don't miss racing.
The crowd was huge and getting back to the airstrip in a car after the racing had finished was always gonna be a problem, so trying to be smart I'd arranged for a mechanic to run me back on a paddock scooter. It became clear as soon as we got out of the circuit we had borrowed the most unroadworthy bike in the world. It shook, it decked out, and once we got it up to 35mph it entered a death-weave. I was relieved to get back to the airstrip in one piece. I still don't know if the mechanic made it back to Snett alive.
But I can't help thinking if ya put 'em all in a UFC cage, the 70s dudes with their porn star 'tashes would be the ones walking out.
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