VOL. 52 ISSUE 43 OCTOBER 27, 2015 P93
M
y eyelids are so heavy, like roller doors waiting to be
slammed. My back feels semi-broken. This bike is too
small, too slow. Honda Groms, all the time, coming
at me like killer wasps, pass and then re-attack 15 laps later.
We're four seconds a lap off the pace with our slow little bastard
Haprilia (Honda/Aprilia). It's only 1:00 a.m. There's still another
11 hours of this M1GP to go.
I've done endurance racing before, but this is something else.
24-hour motorbike races are for the mildly insane, for those who
probably like pain in darkened rooms with suspect people. I've
got two mates back in Australia who make their living from this
type of racing. I've always thought Alex and Damian Cudlin were
a little cooked in the head. Now there is no doubt.
24
HOURS OF
MADNESS
Chris Cantle canters off into the sunset. There's still 16 hours to go.
