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

Chapter Seven

As I drove to meet my team at my favourite practice track, I turned up the radio when I heard my name mentioned,
"James Martin, son of the legendary Guy Martin, is competing at the North West 200 race in Northern Ireland in exactly one week's time! It's been 6 months since the young man lost his mother and hasn't raced since. We look forward to seeing you, James! We're all here for you!"
I immediately switched it off. I rolled my eyes,
"4 months," I mumbled to myself, "not 6."

Eventually, I pulled up to the old track. It was completely abandoned except for the transit van with my name and picture up both sides. I got out of my Golf and headed over. Jack was the first one to see me,
"James! It's great to see you, buddy!" He smiled, gripping my right shoulder.
I forced half a smile, "It's great to see you too, Jack. So what do you have in mind for this race?"
I watched as he put two fingers between his lips and let out a strong whistle. That was when another one of the boys appeared from the back of the van, pushing a bike down the ramp. But it wasn't just any bike. The gleaming white body paint, the two red and blue stripes, and the large distinctive black scratch up the left side that my dad had gave it himself. It was the Tyco BMW 1000rr superbike my dad crashed at the Ulster Grand Prix all those years ago.

I couldn't stop myself from staring, just standing there, speechless. Jack laughed at my expression,
"I knew you'd be surprised!" He said.
"I...I don't know what to say! How did you even get hold of this?" I asked, turning to him.
"Why do you think it was your dad's idea for you to do this race?" He beamed.
I looked back at the bike and smiled. This feeling went through me, a feeling of complete delight. Like a beam of light shining in on my blackened heart. It was the first time in a long time that I had really truly smiled, and I loved it.
"Well enough dilly-daddling! Get on her!" Jack said, making his way to where the ramp was and throwing me my old practice leathers. I held them for a moment, looking down at them. They were ripped here and there from years of falling onto this track, but even so, I called them my lucky leathers as I never practiced without them. I looked up at Jack, and noticed that the whole team was standing watching me. They were all smiling. I smiled back at them before walking round to the other side of the van to pull my leathers on.

When I emerged from behind the van, leathers and helmet on, everyone cheered. They all seemed so happy today, it filled the air with a brilliant atmosphere, the kind I used to have at races when we were in the tents together. God, I missed that feeling! I climbed onto the bike, in what felt like slow motion, and kick-started the engine. It roared to life beneath me and something made me look down between the handlebars. There was something engraved in the metal, right at racing eye-level,
Make her proud, son.
I felt my heart jolt, my grip tighten around the handlebars, accidentally making the engine rev. I knew my dad had written it, but in that moment it felt like my mum was right beside me. Like those words were coming out of her mouth as she stood beside the excited bike. I blinked twice before coming back into concentration.
"Ready?" Jack asked from behind me.
I nodded once as Jack gave the bike a push and I put it into gear.

Once on the track, I didn't even bother taking time to get used to the feeling again, or going slow just to recap the movement. Instead, I pulled my right wrist all the way back as far as the handle would go, and we were off. I flew round the track, leaning right over into each corner, changing gear here, twisting the throttle there. I glanced down at the speedometer to see 160mph holding steady on the dial. I don't know how many laps I had already done, I wasn't keeping count, I was having too much fun. Going up the long side, I felt the wind over my back and took a deep breath. This was what I was made for, and I was ready for that race.