What biking days stand out most in your mind ?

[Yorick]

Some of my best trackdays were at Cadwell with Couchy and Animal.

[Yorick]

I think one of my fave days was Judge's trackday at Snetterton.
He knew it would be his last, but was still well enough to enjoy it.

I spent the whole day with him, helping where appropriate.

A few from here chipped in for the cost and he appreciated that.

When we got home to his house, he proudly showed off the photos to his family.

Then we went out and got properly lagered up


And I was riding well that day, so double bubble

[Couchy]

Some of my best trackdays were at Cadwell with Couchy and Animal.

I remember riding up Mansfield as it was icy and we were sent out to see how icy. Thinking back there was a Wales trip too with you on a ZX9 ?, maybe 2001 ?

[Yorick]

Some of my best trackdays were at Cadwell with Couchy and Animal.

I remember riding up Mansfield as it was icy and we were sent out to see how icy. Thinking back there was a Wales trip too with you on a ZX9 ?, maybe 2001 ?

Aye. That day was cold.

Aye, was 2001. Good trip that.
Not sure if I was on the ZX9 or the GSXR1000.

[Alan PBTD]

Easy - Foggy @ Brands 1999. 120,000 people - Well, there was more than that but that was the Safety Limit. Not a spare inch to stand but the place was filled with St George Flags and mega Air horns. Foggy had a crap day but that didn't matter. ''I know as I was there''

[Yorick]

Easy - Foggy @ Brands 1999. 120,000 people - Well, there was more than that but that was the Safety Limit. Not a spare inch to stand but the place was filled with St George Flags and mega Air horns. Foggy had a crap day but that didn't matter. ''I know as I was there''

Yup. I was there too.

[Bigyin]

I think one of my fave days was Judge's trackday at Snetterton.
He knew it would be his last, but was still well enough to enjoy it.

I spent the whole day with him, helping where appropriate.

A few from here chipped in for the cost and he appreciated that.

When we got home to his house, he proudly showed off the photos to his family.

Then we went out and got properly lagered up


And I was riding well that day, so double bubble

Judge following Yorick out of pitlane ..... Andy loved that day and mentioned it when i visited him a couple of days before he left us even though he was heavily sedated at the time

[The Spin Doctor]

The one that sticks out in my mind is the ride back from the Bol after the race was abandoned when it pissed down. 88, I think it was.

We'd done our day's courier work on Wednesday, caught the overnight ferry then ridden down on the Thursday in scorching weather, stopped at an auberge in the Rhone valley and a good meal, some wine and a good night's kip. We were at the circuit mid-morning, setting ourselves up with two crates of beer for the race on the Saturday, perched on the bank near the end of the Mistral straight. We watched the rest of practice on Friday then the race started at 3pm on Saturday. The weather broke mid-evening with a storm, then drizzle.

We went to bed about 3am then woke up in deathly silence (aside from the drumming of rain on the tent). No racing. We heard later that there had been a spate of crashes on the Mistral straight as bikes aquaplaned, culminating in a serious crash when a rider hit a downed bike with no lights when flat out. I have a feeling the crash involved Phase One Endurance, the team we knew pretty well by this point.

About 9am, there was the sound of a bike falling over and plastic cracking. Turtle-like, dozens of heads popped out of tents to see whose bike it was. Unfortunately, it was Andy's. The rain had finally softened the soil at 'Paul Rockhard'. We picked the bike up and taped up the broken bit of fairing, then ambled round the track to get some breakfast. At one point the water had backed up to the top of the concrete wall round part of the track, standing a metre deep. Unfortunately, it happened to be a favourite camping spot for German riders. Dozens of tents and bikes were totally flooded out.

As we were pulling down the tent on Monday morning, they opened the circuit. 50FF (about a fiver) for 20 mins. I remember saying to Andy "let's take it easy for a few laps", something that lasted to the first bend when he was about a centimetre off my tail light. Result? I went off the circuit half way round on the first lap - Andy waved at me as he carried on round on his FZ-600, then had a wonderful dice on my XBR500 with a Swiss rider on a CBX750. He'd pass me on the Mistral straight, I'd get him back on the twisty bit. I nearly wore through the leather on the left knee of my one-piece - they already had layers of gaffer tape on them from a roundabout in Rickmansworth.

We set off midday Monday, and aimed at a mid-ride stop somewhere in the Auvergne that night. If I remember right we aimed up the Gorge de Ardeche - if you've never ridden it, it should be on your bucket list for France. We stopped at a little auberge and had a cracking meal. Next day it was wet again. And I had one of the best morning's riding ever.

Being tightwad couriers, both of us had looked at the bikes and thought "those tyres will make it". They didn't. I had a bald front and Andy had a bald rear. He was wheel-spinning out of corners and I was getting unbelievable lean angles on the bald edges of my front tyre. We swapped bikes and halfway round a hairpin, the fairing side on Andy's bike came untaped and started dragging and forcing the bike wide. I somehow got a foot under it and hooked it up and made it round the bend. I've never laughed so much on a ride.

I think we made it back to London about 5am on Wednesday. First job after a few hours kip - two new tyres

[Bigyin]

The one that sticks out in my mind is the ride back from the Bol after the race was abandoned when it pissed down. 88, I think it was.

We'd done our day's courier work on Wednesday, caught the overnight ferry then ridden down on the Thursday in scorching weather, stopped at an auberge in the Rhone valley and a good meal, some wine and a good night's kip. We were at the circuit mid-morning, setting ourselves up with two crates of beer for the race on the Saturday, perched on the bank near the end of the Mistral straight. We watched the rest of practice on Friday then the race started at 3pm on Saturday. The weather broke mid-evening with a storm, then drizzle.

We went to bed about 3am then woke up in deathly silence (aside from the drumming of rain on the tent). No racing. We heard later that there had been a spate of crashes on the Mistral straight as bikes aquaplaned, culminating in a serious crash when a rider hit a downed bike with no lights when flat out. I have a feeling the crash involved Phase One Endurance, the team we knew pretty well by this point.

About 9am, there was the sound of a bike falling over and plastic cracking. Turtle-like, dozens of heads popped out of tents to see whose bike it was. Unfortunately, it was Andy's. The rain had finally softened the soil at 'Paul Rockhard'. We picked the bike up and taped up the broken bit of fairing, then ambled round the track to get some breakfast. At one point the water had backed up to the top of the concrete wall round part of the track, standing a metre deep. Unfortunately, it happened to be a favourite camping spot for German riders. Dozens of tents and bikes were totally flooded out.

As we were pulling down the tent on Monday morning, they opened the circuit. 50FF (about a fiver) for 20 mins. I remember saying to Andy "let's take it easy for a few laps", something that lasted to the first bend when he was about a centimetre off my tail light. Result? I went off the circuit half way round on the first lap - Andy waved at me as he carried on round on his FZ-600, then had a wonderful dice on my XBR500 with a Swiss rider on a CBX750. He'd pass me on the Mistral straight, I'd get him back on the twisty bit. I nearly wore through the leather on the left knee of my one-piece - they already had layers of gaffer tape on them from a roundabout in Rickmansworth.

We set off midday Monday, and aimed at a mid-ride stop somewhere in the Auvergne that night. If I remember right we aimed up the Gorge de Ardeche - if you've never ridden it, it should be on your bucket list for France. We stopped at a little auberge and had a cracking meal. Next day it was wet again. And I had one of the best morning's riding ever.

Being tightwad couriers, both of us had looked at the bikes and thought "those tyres will make it". They didn't. I had a bald front and Andy had a bald rear. He was wheel-spinning out of corners and I was getting unbelievable lean angles on the bald edges of my front tyre. We swapped bikes and halfway round a hairpin, the fairing side on Andy's bike came untaped and started dragging and forcing the bike wide. I somehow got a foot under it and hooked it up and made it round the bend. I've never laughed so much on a ride.

I think we made it back to London about 5am on Wednesday. First job after a few hours kip - two new tyres

We must have been a few hundred metres away from each other at the circuit as I did the same trip as a courier in 88 as well. My one and only time I went to the Bol ….. I mentioned it on the first page of this thread

[Dickyboy]

Mid 90's, had a company mk5 guzzi lemans, Aberystwyth to Oxford on the A44, nothing beats getting paid to do that on a sunny afternoon

[Skub]

I've had a few memorable days on two wheels. These days I ride alone,but it wasn't always that way.

In 2003 my best mate and bike wingman was killed on his bike just after his 30th birthday. His Dad is a good mate too so after the funeral he and I and another good friend took the ferry to Scotchland for a day's run on the bikes.

We went as far North as Orkney and the 'day' became a week before we caught the ferry home. Laughing and crying together,telling stories and memories of past stupidity,just coming to terms with it all in the only way we knew how. Some days we were punching in almost 600 miles and me on a sportsbike. I had no bother sleeping at night.

The weather was great for the whole week,we didn't see rain until we were almost back to Cairnryan. Anyone who has spent time on the tartan tarmac will understand how fortunate we were.

18 years later and on a good day I still like to imagine I glimpse him in my mirrors.