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

Chapter Nine

*One Week Later*

I jumped out of the shower and wrapped a towel round me. I looked at my phone to check the time, 4:25am. I sneaked into the bedroom, chucked on my clothes, and grabbed the last of my bags, careful not to wake Ellen. She had been living with me for about a week now, and she was amazing. I smiled to myself, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and made my way out of the apartment.

I crammed the rest of the bags into the boot of my dark blue Golf. I had to force the door down to get it to close properly. I had so much stuff, but I usually had a van or a truck to put it all into, not a small car. I got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Just then, my phone went off. It was a text from Jack,

Good morning! We're all packed up here and ready to go. Should be down at the pits for around 8am. See you there! J.

I replied,

Grand job! I'm about to leave now too, but I'm gonna stop into my dad's place first. Meet you guys down there 👌🏼.

I rolled out of my apartment block and headed for my dad's truck yard. The racing buzz was already getting to me, besides, it'd been a long time since I'd had it.

I drove the short distance to the truck yard I grew up round. I parked in my old spot and got out of the car. As usual, even at 4:45 in the morning, I heard the drilling and clanging coming from the shed. I walked over quickly and saw my dad crouched down behind a mud flap, where the tyre would usually be. He saw my feet before I said anything.
"Morning, James! Ready for the big day?" He said, beaming up at me.
I smiled, "Yep! But come on, are you even ready yet? The ferry leaves soon and they close the roads at the race at 9:30."
He stood up and unzipped his old navy overalls to reveal a blue white and red Tyco BMW sponsor tshirt. He then turned round to reveal the words on the back,
JAMES MARTIN #8
I laughed, I loved my dad's quirky little surprises. Classic Guy Martin.

He stepped out of his boots and overalls and threw on the 'lucky' trainers he used to wear to every race of his own. He followed me out into the yard and climbed into the old 'Ian Martin and Sons Scania Specialists' Transit van. That's where I'd be sleeping for the night. I got into my car and drove out behind my dad, he knew a quicker route to the ferry.

As we queued to get on the boat, I glanced down at my phone, 6am. The sail across would take a little less than two hours, then we'd meet the team at the pits, set everything up, get the bikes tweaked and get through scrutineering, then do the practice races. Today was Friday. There is always a practice race on the Tuesday night, but I never bothered with it. We got lucky this year, usually they'd run today's two practices on Thursday night, but thanks to a heavy downpour of rain last night, they moved them to today. I was doing the Supersport 600 on my own Honda Fireblade, and the Superbike on my dad's good old Tyco BMW 1000. Eventually, we got into the boat. We parked the van and car on the lower deck and made our way up into the seating area. This was going to be a long two hours.

-

Finally, we arrived at the Belfast docks in Northern Ireland. We followed a steady flow of traffic as we drove off the ferry. Once on the road, I again followed my dad. He knew the roads of Northern Ireland well, so he knew the best way to make the one hour drive to Portstewart, where the North West 200 was held. As we drove, I checked my phone again, 8:05am. I put my eyes back on the road, and familiar sights caught my eye. The huge blue rectangles that were set up at each corner and along the roads, smaller ones wrapped round lampposts. Racers called these 'impact squares' because they were there for us to smack into if we crashed, even though they weren't actually square. Further up the roads, I saw the black flags flying at the top of the lampposts, they all read the same thing: Vauxhall International North West 200. Then came the grand stands, the crowds, the starting grid. After such a long time of not racing, we were finally here, the North West 200 Pits.

I parked my car beside the tent that the boys had put up. They already had all their tool boxes and kits set up, even the two bikes were on their stands. I was greeted with a group "Wehayyy" as I walked in. We immediately got to work putting any finishing touches on the bikes so that they could pass scruntineering. Tonight's two practice races would be a chance for any problems to surface that the bikes may have.

Before we knew it, an announcement was made over the speakers to say that scrutineering was starting. Jack and I quickly grabbed a bike each and pushed them to the large scrutineering tent. They took my yellow racer card, my helmet, leathers, and both bikes. Twenty minutes later, they emerged and handed me all my gear and both bikes. The scrutineers didn't even have to say anything to me anymore, I'd been to enough races to know that as long as everything has a green sticker on it, it's passed. Then, it was announced that all racers must be on the starting grid in 10 minutes time. Jack and my dad took the two bikes back to the tent while I rushed to my dad's van to get changed. I jumped in the back and began pulling on my good black leathers with the number 8 on the back. As I placed the armour on my chest and stomach, zipped up the leathers, pulled on my gloves and boots, I felt a strange sensation. This somewhat familiar, warm feeling. It felt like...my mum. I looked round me frantically as I stood in the back of the van. No one was there. But I could feel her, she was in here with me, watching me, wishing me luck. I held back the tears as I pulled my helmet on, and stepped out of the van.

I jogged over to gap in the middle of the grandstands. I squeezed through and saw Jack standing on the grid holding my Honda Fireblade. People cheered as they noticed me walking onto the grid. I gave a few waves before climbing onto the bike. Jack gave it a quick final check over before giving me a thumbs up and walking away to stand with the rest of the team. This was only a practice but the buzz I had was nearly making my body vibrate. Other riders appeared all round me on their bikes. I noticed one of my dad's fellow racers, Conor Cummins was beside me.
"It's good to see you back, Martin. It's been too easy without you." He said before flipping his viser down.
"It's good to see you too, Cummins." I replied. We nodded a 'good luck' to each other before the marshal held up the sign in front of us all:

START ENGINES

We all did as the sign said and before I knew it, we were off.

All other noises left my ears. I didn't hear the other bikes, the crowds, the commentators. All I heard was my own engine, and each gear change I made. I wasn't even aware of who was around me, or where I was in the race. I came up round the first corner over a hill, I lent the bike over slightly to the right round the bend as the bike picked up speed down the hill. I pulled on the brakes gently to get the momentum to get round the left bend called York Corner. I lent the bike fully over to the left with my knee nearly touching the tarmac, before giving it the berries up the straight. Everything became a blur except for what was in front of me as I reached 100mph. I quickly slowed down and into first gear as I went round the small roundabout and finally out onto the long straight. Flying down that slip-stream straight, hitting 200mph, I felt the wind over my back and I felt as if the bike was speaking to me through it's noises and vibrations. We were one.

I went round a few more corners, down a few more straights, and then, as quickly as it began, it was all over. I flashed over the finish line and brought my head out of the bubble. I was shocked at what I heard,
"James Martin's first time back, his first practice, and he comes 1st! What a start to this year's North West 200!"
The cheers surrounded me as I met my team between the grand stands with the Honda. It was an amazing feeling to have all this back again. I missed it so much, and now I had just came 1st in the first practice! Now all I had to do was survive the second practice, and win the two races I had entered.