Don't Try To Stop Me - Sequel to 'Trust Is Everything'

Chapter One

Let me set one thing straight, I'm nothing like my dad. Yes he was one of the best racers around at the time, but that was nine years ago.  After his big crash when I was ten, he stopped racing for good. Hung up the leathers and kissed the roads goodbye. After that, he just attended the meetings that my mum was spannering at for whatever snazzy team wanted her. She was on a new team nearly every week. She was pretty popular.

I got into racing when I was about six years old. I used to watch my dad race all the time, either standing on the side of roads or on tv if I had to stay at home with mum. I got my first proper bike when I was 12. My dad got me it for Christmas that year, much to the disapproval of my mum. She didn't want dad encouraging me, especially after his big crash.

I feel as if I should explain what happened at that crash, but I'll keep it short. Basically, my dad was up on the hills in the TT, over the mountains, when the bike decided to highside around the corner and ended up throwing him down the hill. He got busted up real bad after bouncing down the fields, hitting barbed wire fences. Eventually a stone wall stopped him, but not without consequences. After that, he decided enough was enough (or maybe it was my mum who decided that for him) but it never stopped me.

When I got my bike for that 12th Christmas, I practiced and practiced every minute I could. My dad always gave me pointers and showed me the best positions round corners. My mum has been a racing mechanic since I was two years old so she was always fixing up the bike for me when I crashed it or when I wanted it to go faster than it was designed to. As much as she may have disapproved of me wanting to race, she never tried to stop me. No one did.

My dad has been a truck mechanic since he was 12 years old, it was always his full time job with racing on the side. No matter how many races he won, or how many fans he had, he always told me he got more satisfaction out of fixing trucks than any race. I've never been into trucks, despite my dad's best efforts. Unlike his father (my grandpa) and my great grandpa, I won't be carrying on the lorry mechanic tradition. It's just not me.

I won my first race when I was 13. It didn't take much, I was a natural on a bike thanks to my dad. After that, I was hooked. I was out competing every other weekend, trying to win or at least improve my game. It paid off. When I was 16, I entered the MotoGP. I'm not even sure if that was the legal age limit. I don't think it was, but I got in anyway. There's a lot of benefits when your dad is Guy Martin.

I started on the grid in 28th place that day, and finished 2nd. I would've won if the little dickhead in front of me hadn't kept swerving in my way.

Like I said at the start, I'm nothing like my dad. You see, he was always into road racing, nothing else, just real road racing. He was a real road racer, and I guess that's fair enough. But me, I'm not into roads, you're hardly ever up beside someone battling for the lead, or able to swerve the ass out of your bike to keep your place. The roads are never as busy as that because the track is so big. That's probably the biggest difference between me and my dad, I'm a circuit racer.