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       CHAPTER FIVE Watching the Washing Machine

      As a racer, it’s always a nice feeling to know what you’re going to be doing the following season as there’s always a chance in this business that you’ll be left without a ride.

      Silverstone Armstrong offered me a job for 1986 as far back as August in 1985. They wanted me to ride in the 250 Grands Prix and the 250 British Championship again and they promised me a new bike that would be much faster than the ‘85 model. I had no other options on the table at that point but it was still very early to be signing contracts and part of me, just out of interest, wanted to look at other possibilities. At the same time I really liked all the guys in the Armstrong team and I knew I could do a lot worse than re-sign so that’s what I eventually decided to do.

      I think they realised I might receive other options so they tried to sign me up early and sure enough, soon after I had signed, Garry Taylor from the Suzuki 500 Grand Prix team called me and asked if I would be interested in riding for him. His rider from 1985, Rob McElnea, had joined Marlboro Yamaha and Garry wanted a British rider to replace him. I think Alan Carter was in the frame at one point but apparently he made Suzuki a bit nervous because of his slightly off-the-wall reputation.

      I had no idea that anyone would be interested in signing me for a 500 ride but Suzuki offered me exactly the same set-up as Rob had the year before which was a pretty good one, certainly for me at that point in my career. Factory engines, two bikes, the whole deal. I couldn’t believe it. Here was my ticket into 500 Grand Prix racing where I’d dreamed of being for so many years and I had to pass it up because I’d signed a contract with Armstrong. I was gutted. Usually, chances like that only come along once in a lifetime and it looked like I was going to miss the boat.

      I asked Armstrong if they would be prepared to let me out of my contract and they said ‘Not really’ but looking back, I probably didn’t push them hard enough. I suppose if I had said ‘I hate you all, I’m going to ride like an old granny all year and not speak to anyone in the team’, then it might have been different but riding for Armstrong wasn’t the end of the world. It was a good team and they had done a lot for me, so I just accepted the situation.

      Garry Taylor was understanding and told me to keep in touch anyway so there was still a chance I could get a ride with Suzuki at some point which was encouraging. Armstrong also said they might let me ride the 500 Suzuki as a one-off at the British Grand Prix if the chance came up.

      As it happened, I got to ride the Suzuki in November of 1985 at Oran Park in Australia. I was there riding the Armstrong and was chatting to Suzuki’s Mike Sinclair about 500s and he asked me if I’d like a ride on Rob McElnea’s bike which I jumped at. I only did a few laps in practice and never really got up to speed because I was under strict instructions not to crash it, but that was the first time I ever rode a 500cc Grand Prix bike – the ultimate racing motorcycle. Well at least it was before the 990cc, four-stroke GP bikes came along in 2002.

      With the start of the 1986 season in the UK, I went to Cadwell Park and ended up suffering the worst injury of my career which, I suppose, compared to some other riders’ injuries, wasn’t all that bad. I’ve been very lucky that way in that I survived twenty years of riding bikes at high speeds without any lasting damage to myself. At Cadwell, I was slammed across the track unconscious and broke the tibia and fibula in my left leg (the two bones in the lower leg) and was out of action for the best part of two months. It was a major setback because I effectively missed the whole of the first half of the season.

      I also heard some terrible news while I was laid up in bed in Louth hospital. My friend Alan Carter’s brother Kenny, who was a brilliant speedway rider, had shot his wife in a rage and then turned the gun on himself leaving two small kids with no mum or dad. It was tragic and I felt so bad for Alan who was abroad at the German GP at the time. I was sure he’d fly straight home but he showed incredible focus by continuing with practice and racing as well. I suppose it was just his way of dealing with the tragedy – it gave him something else to concentrate on.

      My first Grand Prix of the year wasn’t until June when I went to Assen in Holland and only finished twelfth because I was still a bit rusty from the accident. But by the time the Belgian race came round in July I was feeling almost fully fit again and was as high as sixth place in qualifying at one point and then finished eighth in the race. I liked Spa and I know I could have been in the top five if the bike hadn’t been misfiring so badly in the wet conditions.

      I had a terrible French Grand Prix at Paul Ricard only managing to finish twenty-first but I still had a laugh in practice. Alan Carter had managed to get some small crabs from a local restaurant and we put them in the crotch of Donnie McLeod’s leathers between the leather and the mesh lining. Donnie had a terrible practice session and only qualified twenty-second, saying that he just couldn’t get comfortable on the bike for some reason! Alan and I thought the crabs would have fallen out but they didn’t and poor Donnie struggled through the whole session with crabs in his crotch. Still, at least they weren’t the kind that required medical attention – or liberal dosings of Old Spice.

      My poor French GP was quickly forgotten about at the next round which was my home GP at Silverstone. Garry

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