Saturday was miserable, wet, windy, cold. Not a nice way to spend 3hrs (out of an anticipated 5) in the saddle. But good conversation kept us going until a crash in our small ladies group stopped the show. By the time everything was sorted, the ambulance came and went, we were over it. Wrapped up in a huge bluey jacket, and 2 thick woollen blankets, plus a beanie (I would have loved a photo of that! Great look!!) I clambered into the back of Mini Me’s car with the Coach family, went back to the motel and thawed out under a very hot shower. The evening track meet was also cancelled (obvious really – didn’t need a degree to work that one out!!) so Saturday night was kick back time, lots of belly laughs, a few Christmas bevvies and a good meal.
Sunday I was back on course, this time in the back of the Chief Commissaire’s car, watching Scotty’s Race rapidly unfold. Once the flag was down, the guns off the front tore the pack apart, and the never-ending wind did the rest. It was full on from the start, with the CB and UHF radios, 2 mobile phones going flat out, commentary flying around the car, listening to the radio for updates on the front of the race, scout motorbikes, spares vehicles, cyclists all around; four of us in the car, keeping tabs on the race, not just the racing but race logisitics. Sitting in a comm car is not just a pleasant drive in the country. If you want to get a real understanding of road racing, get yourself in a comm car. It’s a totally different experience.