IN CASE YOU MISSED the first part of this tale a quick summery of the story so far: Six of us rode from London to Assen for two days of track time at the legendary Dutch TT circuit. I left my newly pregnant wife at home in tears. I got life threatening blood poisoning from a cut in my foot. I witnessed an enormous crash right in front of me. No-one died…yet.
The start of day two dawned bright and sunny, which is a rarity I’m told in these parts.
Not only that but no part of my foot had glued itself to the bedsheets overnight with unwelcome oozings from my hideous blood poisoning. Things were definitely looking up.
I was feeling, if not exactly normal, at least way better than the day before.
After an amuse-bouche of three penicillin, I proceeded to shovel down as many different kinds of salami, cheese and tiny pastries as I could stomach from the Continental Breakfast buffet, washed down with many mugs of black coffee strong enough to clean engine parts.
All was much brighter in my world.
We strapped our gear to the bikes, as we would be heading home straight from the track and headed off at a lick for our second day at the Cathedral of Motorsport…and what a day it turned out to be.
My first port of call was to enquire about the wellbeing of the instructor who had binned it beside me in a spectacular triple-digit-mph crash at the end of the previous day.
