P128
CN
III IN THE PADDOCK
BY MICHAEL SCOTT
I
t started well over 100 years
ago. 1907, to be precise. And
it has just started again, like
clockwork, as June heralds the
approach of the northern sum-
mer solstice. It is, of course, the
Isle of Man TT. Most venerable
of all motorsports events, and
the most extraordinary and pro-
found. In so many ways.
A British colleague once
called the TT "a sort of horizontal
Everest." I wished I'd thought
that up.
Like Everest, the 37.75-miles
of the Mountain Course are
celebrated in triumph, but also
stained with blood and monu-
ments. Like Everest, it nonethe-
less exerts an irresistible pull on
professional and amateur alike.
Because it's there?
Stripped of championship
status in the mid-1970s, the TT
has survived triumphantly for
competitors and fans (something
like 50,000 of them). For them,
it has not sacrificed its place,
standing proud over the skyline.
TT riders, from the very fast to
the amateur plodders, must also
be regarded as outstanding.
Outstandingly stupid?
This is not an unusual accusa-
tion. Over the years, they have
often been denigrated as ridicu-
lously foolish takers of ridiculous
risks. There are no second
chances at the TT: no run-off ar-
eas, or gravel traps. Just curbs,
stone walls, trees and bus stops.
When it lost world championship
MOTORCYCLE ROULETTE
