A Lap of the T.T. Course

THE  ULTIMATE  CHALLENGE

Long have the valiant braved this course, stern trial of nerve and pride
Wrote large their names on history’s page, though not a few have died. 
As you guide that screaming missile you have chosen to bestride,
To keep a smouldering patch of rubber in a groove ten inches wide.
Stone walls and trees and fences, your constant, ruthless guide
No lenient gravel trap awaits when your back wheel starts to slide.
Thirty-seven miles of granite ribbon, death couched on either side.
Those who contend the mountain course, joust where none may hide.

R.D. Kelly

A LAP OF THE T.T. COURSE

From cold a Canon Bench Mark, to test both nerve and will.
Which riders hold her on the pipe, at the bottom of Bray Hill?
Take extra care at Quarter Bridge, when your tank is full of gas.
There’s no mercy in the pit lane, if you wind up “on the grass”.

Braddan Bridge needs rear wheel steering, don’t tell your next of kin.
Sometimes you have to step it out, so you can, ‘Back her in’.
As you pull away from Union Mills, Joey’s truth can’t be denied.
A long straight road confronts you, it just isn’t very wide.

Appledene needs close attention, then at Greeba, if you’re wise.
You need to keep your mouth shut, or you’ll be dining out, on flies.
From Doran’s to Glen Helen is the hardest stage to learn.
But once you get the rhythm, she’ll flow through every turn.

That groove along your helmet, souvenir of one close call.
Inscribed at Handleys Corner, where you scratched it on the wall.
Down Barregarroo and Kirk Michael, as you head for Bishops Court
Tank slappers at Rhencullen, give some riders pause for thought.

The road seems to vanish here, like a curtain cross the track.
But keep your throttle open, and the trees keep falling back.
Knock her off as you approach Ballaugh, there is little there to gain.
Beside the chance of dropping it, you might well bust the chain.

Two ton along the Sulby Straight, if such speed does not appal,
You better hit your brake point, or you won’t make Ginger Hall.
Negotiate Glentramman Bends as you’re wheeling round The North.
Then sit quietly and relax, let the road drift back and forth.

The track is rough through Schoolhouse, and the line is pretty tight.
If you wind up in the bus stop, then you’ll know you got it right.
Bob Mac. assessed The Mountain, then spoke with insight rare.
Climb that hill quick as you can, come down fast as you dare.

Past Water Works and Gooseneck the boys throw on some style,
It’s the reason why you ride a bike, powering up the Mountain Mile.
On the Verandah you must count the kinks, for should you lose your line,
You’ll be ploughing through the heather, heading down to Snaefell Mine.

Sweeping round the Thirty Second, requires both steel and poise.
To crank those corners at one bite, sorts the men out from the boys.
Round Windy and The Thirty Third, then pass through Kepple Gates,
Plunging down on Creg-ny-Baa, with your stomach back at Kates.

Pour it on straight down to Brandish, if the road is dry and clear.
Sucking rabbits from the hedges, trying to find that extra gear.
The knack to taking Bedstead would make you hold your breath.
With the wheels against the pavement much like the wall of death.

Your light comes on at Sign Post, there’s a board hung by your pit,
Shows the lead is just five seconds, so you’d better keep her lit.

P.S.
All the gear but no idea,
It’s a cinch to spot the fake.
Twenty thousand quid and twenty miles,
Does not a biker make.

Popping wheelies in a head wind,
Not worth the buzz it brings.
It could give a whole new meaning,
To, ‘The wind beneath your wings’.

I have no fear of riding fast,
When racing on my bike.
It’s the thought that I might crash and burn,
I just can’t get to like.

Words: R.D. Kelly
Technical Consultancy: Kinrade Bros.