Journey’s end
With most things in life, I’ve always tried to enjoy the journey just in case the destination didn’t live up to expectations.
Relating this to racing meant training my ass off, riding my heart out, then win, lose or draw, partying hard when the sun went down on a Sunday night (or Saturday night in the Sea Splash at the North West 200). The end of season was my destination so my system meant whatever the outcome, I’d always look back on some great memories. I don’t suppose necking bottles of Baileys and unintentionally wrecking Californian racers’ motorhomes was particularly clever, but no one
