I’m standing in the Eagle talking to Ian Howells. He’s a fellow biker who tells me he’s going flat track racing the next day. I’d never been to a flat track race before so I figured it would be an education and decide to show up.
Having no idea what to expect, I pull into the venue, the trotting track in Tairgwaith. A mile long track of gravel and loud, flat out, no brakes aggression. The sound is deafening as modified single and twin engines bellow their way along the straights and into the corners, rear wheel out and sliding around to be spat out again down another straight, the confident showboating with wheelies.
Ian was set up in the paddock opposite the starting line. Conversation was pretty minimal, he was buzzing from racing and it was so loud as the bikes passed that you simply resorted to watching the two wheeled battles going on.
This place was almost alien to me, realizing I knew nothing about the racing or the bikes they were riding, I decided to keep quiet about it and absorb the atmosphere instead. The place was filthy, not a thing like the polished pits at the Moto GP, there was dust and dirt in the air, all over the bikes, the riders, their stands. It gave the event a feeling of down to earth biking, there were no gimmicks, just a bunch of men and a woman who pushing themselves and their bikes to the limit.
Ian had some good results and a lucky miss when another rider slammed into his right side on the corner, crushing his foot. It worked out well for Ian, the other rider backed off allowing him to maintain position.
Surprisingly, there were more competitors than spectators. I was told that the promoters cover the costs through the rider entry fees and when too many people turn up, things get stolen so they figured its not worth advertising it too much. it gave the event an air of real sportsmanship, the riders weren’t competing for the crowds, just for the satisfaction of defeating his rivals. There was a surprising lack of hanging around between races, within minutes of the last race, the next is tearing off the line.
I’m turning up to the next event, there’s something intoxicating about the rawness of it, the simplicity and lack of frills, the personal satisfaction and absent fanfare.
