He may have finished well down the list but Peter Clifford has a happy tale to tell about his first ride on a road circuit
Peter Clifford (right) and mechanic Mark Croasdale ensure the little Yamaha twin is in the right shape
"SOMETHING like a cross between a trials section and Bonneville Salt Flats."
That was my reaction to the ten-mile North-West 200 course after one lap in the van round my first roads circuit.
From the very tight almost 180 degree hairpin and sharp right-left flick between stone walls of the Shell Hill Bridge the road heads towards Portrush. Once past the Ballysally roundabout, it's almost flat-out for three miles culminating in a down hill rush to the Metropole Center. Here the fastest machines flash past the 30 mph limit signs at close to 180 mph.
The course also contains a touch of Monaco. Accelerating under the railway bridge in Portrush you sweep left-handed over a brow and over onto the sea front towards the start finish and Portstewart.
After a lap of the circuit we stopped at John Logan's house. John, a local rider, had arranged garaging for the IFB team on a small housing estate in Portstewart. Once settled into the garage we were blessed with brilliant sunshine and plenty of time to prepare the bike for scrutineering which took place between one and five o'clock. This was typical of the easy going time scale as the meeting was held over four days.
On signing-on each rider had to show proof of £3,000 of life insurance, Northern Ireland not being covered by the ACU. The organisers insistence on this point was a legacy of Geoff Barry's fatal accident the previous year and a local insurance agent was on hand to make sure of his three weeks in Acapulco at £11 a head.
At the first session of practice, while we 250s waited for the 500s to get clear, the sun was casting long shadows of man and machine across the track and blazing a bright reflected path on the sea towards the horizon.
I made a mental note to be wary when heading westward back towards Poststewart and the setting sun. As the 250s were signalled away, I hung back to the rear of the pack not wishing to be in the way of those who knew the course better.
So conscious was I of the often quoted dangers of road circuit racing that, at first, I slowed for every curve or kink only to find most were ultra-fast if not flat out.
Last-minute check-over for the IFB-backed machine
Leaving Portstewart the road undulates between hedgerows and walls past the new Coleraine University towards the Shell Hill Bridge. Down this almost straight road the head-wind played tricks with the gearing.
The first part was protected by trees and my bike would just pull top gear, but as the road became more exposed the engine note got flatter until it was necessary to change down.
On the return leg to the Metropole Corner, down-hill with a tail wind, the engine would over-rev easily. On the first lap of practice not everyone was taking it easy. As I cranked into the fast right hander after the Ballysally roundabout I was confronted with marshals and first aid people running across the track and bits of wreckage on the road after a bike had hit a telegraph pole.
The special nature of the circuit was causing problems for many that first evening, most of the fast men walked into the pits for a plug check after the first lap.
The combination of very long straights and sea air can spell death for the two stroke racing engine. The sea air, being so dense, contains more oxygen than that at most mainland circuits necessitating about two sizes larger main jets on the 250 Yamahas.
There was also a marked variation in air temperature, the brilliant sunshine creating warmth inland while the rush along the sea-front was cooled by a sea breeze.
Having been advised to change jets by Steve Parrish's mechanic, Martin Brookman, before the event we avoided the rash of first night seizures that sidelined many riders.
During practice another peculiarity of the circuit became apparent. The two long straights made judging breaking for the hairpins at the end very difficult. Travelling flat-out for so long speed becomes meaningless and timing braking accurately I found tricky. The changing wind direction and speed made using precise braking points unreliable.
Fortunately , there are slip roads at each of the hairpins, a fact that was appreciated by Charles Williams when is front brake failed in the 750 race.
Peter Clifford takes his place on the packed grid one row from the rear
Arriving at the Shell Hill Bridge he found he had no front brake, shot up the slip road just clipping Ron Haslam as he did so dumping poor Ron on the road.
After taking the bike back to the garage we went to find a camp-site. On discovering that you can drive onto the beach just up the coast from Portstewart, we decided to try out our Transit as a dune buggy. As darkness fell the beautiful stretch of sand became our camp-site for the night.
Thursday was as warm and sunny as the day before and we were back at the garage to check the bike over and to fit an extra fuel tank. My two gallon tank seat unit was too small by about a gallon and I had made an extra tank to add another gallon and a half. After having the bike scrutineered again we were ready for the second and last session of practice.
The qualifying speed for the race was 85 per cent of the average of the fastest six men. I was too slow by 0.3 mph on Wednesday night. I knew I could go faster but then so would Tom Herron and company at the head of the field.
As the pack streamed along the sea front and out into the country on the first lap, I got my head down determined to go quicker. On approaching a fast right hander some two miles from the start the yellow flags were out.
Two miles is about the distance it takes for a racing two-stroke to come up to working temperature and if it's going to seize it often happens then.
The trail of black rubber on the road told its tale, leaving rider and machine in the drainage ditch.
Occasionally, my bike started to misfire leaving the slow corners. I would have pulled in but I needed the practice and had not yet qualified. I had raised the gearing from the previous night and was holding fifth gear giving out towards the Shell Hill Bridge and using sixth on the drop down into Portrush. On the fourth lap of the session screaming along the outward straight in fifth it seized.
Forty-seventh place for Peter Clifford... but still a very pleasant trip
I coasted to a stop at the Shell Hill Bridge and became a spectator for the rest of the session. When the roads opened we took the van out and collected the bike though it was too dark to work on it then.
There was no practice on Friday, racing being on Saturday. On stripping the carbs my mechanic Mark Croasdale, found scale from the new tank had blocked one of the main jets, hence the mis-fire and seizure.
Having built the extra tank in a hurry, I had neglected to fit filters. I won't do that again. The engine and carbs cleaned-out and rebuilt we were ready for racing with time to spare to see the sunset over Giants Causeway. Up early on race day we cleaned and polished the bike before taking it through scrutineering.
The race itself, though enjoyable, was a bit of an anti-climax. The bike was terribly slow. I suspect the seizure may have knocked the crank slightly out of true. Whatever the reason I was left for dead on the long straights and had to settle for a lowly finish.
After six laps in forty-seventh place, the best part of a lap behind the winner Tom Herron, I stepped from my bike pleased to have finished but disappointed by the lowly position to have my spirits raised by having ten or so youngsters thrust books in front of me to be autographed.
The Irish must be some of the keenest race enthusiasts anywhere in the world. If you are a rider you will be asked for stickers and autographs all weekend whether you finish first or last.
The total involvement of the whole population in the racing makes the effort and expense of getting there and riding all the more worthwhile. To have someone clear out their garage for you to use for four days, to have help from anyone you ask and the good wishes of everyone made racing in Ireland a special experience.
Like many before me, I found road circuit racing to be very different, very exciting and, somehow, Snetterton won't quite seem the same.
*
R.I.P - 2012
"true gentleman who loved the sport."
*
