Rennie Scaysbrook | July 3, 2023
The approach to the Crosby jump is one of the fastest of the Isle of Man TT Mountain Course. At over 150 mph, it’s fair to say it’s one of the fastest jumps in any form of sport, let alone motorsport.
Rennie puts a little style on for the camera. Yes, it was deliberate, This will be a good one for the office wall.
Photography by Double Red, Ryan Crawley, Jon Pennan, Dave Purves, Protec Images, Tracey Harrison, iomttpics.com
After a poor performance in Wednesday night’s qualifying the Wilson Craig Honda team and I have gone through the Honda CBR1000RR SP2 from top to bottom. With its totally rebuilt K-Tech shock and forks and now much shorter gearing, the red number 57 is handling superbly as I try desperately to coax some much-needed speed out of it. I’m acutely aware the lap times I have so far won’t do.
I grip the tank, roll the throttle slightly, get set for take-off, clear the Crosby jump, and get hard on the throttle. I’m now rapidly on my way to the entrance of Greeba Castle.
I shift the Honda back to fourth gear with the revs high at around 110 mph and peel into the approaching left.
Then, it happens.
Rennie and the Wilson Craig Honda charge out of Union Mills during the Thursday afternoon practice session. In about 30 seconds, things go very wrong.
The Honda suddenly drops into the void between fourth and third gear. The engine brake I’m relying on as much as the brakes themselves disappears and the once screaming CBR silently accelerates in exactly the place I don’t want it to.
About 50 meters up the road, a marshal rushes out onto the racetrack with his yellow flag waving, convinced I’m about to impale myself into the white house on the outside of the first of two left-handers.
I’ve had bikes drop out of gear before but never in as knife-edge a place as Greeba Castle at the Isle of Man TT. For a moment, I consider these might be my final seconds playing out as the white house looms ever so large in view.
My good friend David Johnson, a full-house TT star and roommate for these two weeks of TT 2023, gave me some advice earlier that week that inadvertedly saved my life.
“If it drops out (of gear), just commit like hell to the corner. At that stage, that’s all you’ve got left.”
You don’t grab the brakes hard in a situation like this. Keep the brake force firm but deft—the last thing you want is lock the wheels and skid into the trees. Or the stone wall. Or the car in the white house’s driveway.
Subconsciously thinking about Davo’s words somewhere in my psyche, I commit to the approaching left with no engine brake, the CBR just a rolling bicycle at 90 mph. I don’t even think to grab the clutch. I’m somewhere between frozen with fear and full dynamic mode.
Praying the Honda won’t kick back into gear and send me sideways into one of the waiting obstacles, I get around the first left, pass the marshal and his waving yellow, ride halfway into the second left, and then… crrruunncchhh. The CBR drops into third gear, but thankfully after I’ve got control of the situation, the clutch lever now fully wedged against the left handlebar.
It is the scariest moment of my life.
Two more times this happens, once at Doran’s Bend—the same corner that ended Guy Martin’s TT career on the same model of Honda with similar gearbox issues—and the third and final time at the bottom of Barregarrow, the famous corner where you see all the bikes bottoming out next to the stone wall on the left.
At that point, I’ve had enough. I pull in at Kirk Michael Village and off the track. It’s Thursday night of practice week and I tell myself I’m not riding this bike ever again. I call team owner Darren Gilpin to come and pick me and the bike up from a residential estate somewhere in Peel.
My 2023 Isle of Man TT is over.
The Kindness of Strangers
The van ride back to the pits is about as fun as a root canal with no numbing agent. No words are spoken between myself, Darren and Alan, the team’s lead technician. The only noise comes from the Mercedes Sprinter van’s suspension as it bashes over the one-lane roads.
I see my sponsor and great friend, Oscar Solis, in the pits and tell him what happened.
“Let’s just get your stuff and head back to the house,” he says. “We’ll figure out the next move.”
Your new bike, sir! Rennie’s good fortune was hard to believe as the Kibosh BMW team welcomed him in with open arms.
He always knows the right thing to say. We’ve won lots of races together but more than that, he’s a racer and knows what goes on in my head, even if I don’t.
Later that night, with a few old and a few new friends, we descend upon a Chinese restaurant in Douglas. A bunch of MSG and a few beers later, I’m feeling slightly better about the situation and, although I know my TT is all but over before the final night of practice tomorrow, I call the Isle of Man TT & Motorsport Development Manager, Paul Phillips. He’s the TT’s big cheese and at this stage, there’s nothing left to lose.
Paul’s seen it all and knows when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. We chat for a while, and although I’ve only managed five laps so far all week thanks to a motor blowing on the first lap of the first day on Monday, the seat unit breaking on Wednesday, and no laps at all on Thursday, there was still one night of practice remaining if I could get a new team, with a new bike, and run within the 110 percent cut-off time to qualify.
It sounds impossible. For all intents and purposes, it is.
But I’m not ready to quit. I’ve put too much into this Isle of Man TT endeavor to see it end with a lunched gearbox on an old CBR.
The Friday morning dawns and I’m up with the sparrows and in the pits at 7:30 am with journalist husband and wife Simon and Maddi Patterson. I may as well try, so I get my best salesman on.
First I meet with the Dafabet Kawasaki team. Their rider, Matt Stevenson, crashed earlier in the week and broke his leg and arm, and the bike. The chassis is snapped in half but they have a rolling chassis that could possibly be rebuilt but not before final practice tonight, so they’re out.
Next, I meet with the head of Honda UK’s racing department, Havier Beltran. I know the team has Nathan Harrison’s factory CBR1000RR-R SP Fireblade just sitting there after Harrison smashed himself up at the North West 200 two weeks’ prior.
Havier explains that although he’d love to get me on that bike, he can’t get it ready in time and there’d also be legalities involved in running me on a factory bike with absolutely zero time on it before I fire it down Bray Hill. His honesty is greatly appreciated as he shakes my hand and wishes me good luck.
Rennie rips through the daunting Gorse Lea corner at the top of fifth gear.
Next, I speak with Harrison himself. He’s got his old bike that he finished 10th on in last year’s Senior TT sitting there but it’s for sale and not for rent, so he’s out.
Simon then speaks to Andre van den Brink of the Dutch-based Never Be Clever Racing Team. Andre says he’s got a Yamaha YZF-R1 that’s got some good parts on it and is ready to race, but first, he wants to meet me.
AB: “What happened to your bike?”
Me: “Gearbox shit itself.”
AB: “So, you can ride ok?”
Me: “Uh.. yes, I think so.”
AB: “Ok, your bike is there (points to the R1). But it has no team members at all. Just a bike.”
It was the fastest, most efficient job interview I’ve ever had.
I explain that without at least some form of help to prepare and run the bike, I wouldn’t be able to take him up on his offer. Thanking him, I walk away, fairly convinced now it really is all over.
Then Simon mentions the Kibosh Racing Team. They have a BMW S 1000 RR sitting in the garage and the team’s lead rider, corrective facial surgeon Dr. Richard Wilson, is running a new CBR this year and thus isn’t using it.
Richard’s father, Andy, a now-retired dentist, is running the team that includes Gary Vines on a Honda CBR600RR, the rider I had plenty of battles with last year along with the eventually tragic Raul Torras Martinez.
Lap three, Friday night. It’s now or never to get on the grid as Rennie squeezes everything he can from the BMW.
It’s a great piss-taking atmosphere in the true British sense and, with the promise of “a little help to prepare the bike” from Andy and the team’s only mechanic, Italian Gabriele Pezzotta, the decision is made. I am now a BMW rider, but first I have to complete at least two laps to qualify the bike and I have to be within the cut-off time. At best, I’ll have three practice laps tonight. No pressure…
By now it’s 12:30 pm and with the flag drop set for 2:30 pm, the administrative race is on. Paperwork signed with head office, transponders and GPS units fitted, new Metzeler tires on, and the bike into technical inspection, the Kibosh crew springs into action for a rider they’d only just met an hour before and now they trust with their racebike. It dawns on me there’s probably no racing paddock in the world where this could happen except the Isle of Man. It is heartwarming to experience.
With about an hour before I am due to go out, I head back up to the Wilson Craig team one last time to say goodbye and thanks for everything they did for me. The team of Darren, Alan, Lee, and many more worked their asses off from day one and I know they’re as disappointed as I am this endeavor didn’t work out.
Without the kindness (and leniency) of this police officer, Rennie would have likely ended up in jail.
I feel especially bad for Alan—he’s a genuinely nice guy and the look of concern he had for me while we chatted in the transporter last night after the gearbox issues was touching.
I see Darren Gilpin and he comes over from the corner. “Listen, we really didn’t mean to fuck up your TT,” he says.
I assure him I know that’s the case, we hug and it all feels sad but amicable. This is the last time Darren and I speak.
It’s now or never
Before I know it I’m firing the Kibosh Racing BMW S 1000 RR down Bray Hill without having even revved it in the pits prior. It’s so much longer, taller, and more stable than the CBR and it has a motor on it that makes the Honda feel like a 750.
One lap down and I’m trying my best to speak German and understand what the bike is telling me, what it wants me to do, and how it wants me to do it.
But, and I’m ashamed to admit it, I’m scared.
By the time I get to Ginger Hall I realize I’ve been riding with my finger on the clutch for the last 10 miles or so, waiting for something to go wrong. I’m riding tight, far too tight for the rigors of the Isle of Man TT Mountain Course, and I tell myself to just enjoy this final lap, pull in and hand the bike back to Andy and Richard with a smile and a thanks.
I pull into the pits and just as I’m about to utter the words “I can’t do it”, I see there’s 18 minutes left on the timing board and I have enough time for one last lap. Perhaps my last ever lap of the TT.
Last chance: Rennie gets ready for one final shot to get onto the grid on Friday afternoon.
Right. Helmet on. A tank of the Isle of Man’s finest premium pump gas goes into the BMW, and as I roll down the side entrance to put lane, I punch myself in the side of the head. It’s now or never.
“Stop being a f***ing wanker and ride the goddamn motorcycle! Stop being a b***h!” I yell to myself. The look on the marshal’s face beside me indicates I yelled a little too loudly.
Clutch out. I roll to the end of pit lane and boost the BMW down Glencrutchery Road. Fourth, fifth, sixth gear. Full compression at the bottom of Bray Hill. We’re off.
The more I really ride the Marlboro-liveried Kibosh BMW, the better it responds. I’m still not getting full revs in sixth gear but I’m going faster than I ever did on the CBR, the massive Munich midrange making up for my top-end trepidation.
Through Kate’s Cottage and down the slide to the Creg-ny-Baa hotel, a thought dawns that this lap might actually be a good one. I flash over the line, pull into the escape road and ride into the pits to see Oscar with a massive smile on his face.
“You got 119.8 mph, man. That’s enough to qualify!” It’s 2 mph up on what I managed on the Honda after just three laps and an hour in the saddle.
The relief feels like someone just threw a cold bucket of water over me straight from Douglas Promenade.
“We’re on the dance floor,” I say to Oscar.
Week one
Up until this point, my 2023 Isle of Man TT has been the wildest of roller coasters. After last year when my team packed up and left before the start of the last race in the Supersport class, I am hoping for a boring, plain sailing kind of race in the Superbike, Superstock, and Senior TTs.
Day one, lap one, as Rennie and the Wilson Craig Honda charge into the shadows on the exit of Braddon Bridge.
Signing with the Wilson Craig Honda team, a famous name around the TT Mountain Course if ever there was one, I’m sure we’ll put in a good performance. A shakedown race at Kirkistown in Northern Ireland a month earlier boded well with 11th in the rain, and I was quite happy with the performance of the Honda, even if it was one of the older 2017-2021 models.
The issues start on Friday before practice on Monday.
Jurby racetrack, the traditional arena for pre-TT shakedown testing on the island, is closed. The Southern 100 classic races are being held and thus no medics are available and so the entire TT paddock can do nothing but wait until official practice starts on Monday before any testing can be carried out.
This is a real kick in the teeth for myself, Darren, and the crew. I need as much time on the CBR as possible, if just to warm the blood than anything else before taking on Bray Hill.
Putting this aside, we line up on Glencrutchery Road for the first round of practice on Monday morning. This is to be the longest of any day of TT 2023, with a morning practice session followed by an afternoon qualifying. A possible five to seven laps are on the cards.
But we don’t get as far as the end of lap two.
The marshals at Tower Bends were fantastic.
Coming out of the Bungalow, under the bridge, and up Hailwood’s Rise, the Honda drops back from fifth to fourth gear with the throttle pinned on full revs and smashes a valve. The bike keeps going until I get around to Tower Bends on the following lap when it finally cries enough and splutters to a halt, leaving me stuck at the base of the mountain and the furthest spot away from the pits.
It is only lap two and I have to watch for six agonizingly boring hours as bikes whizz by one after the other, but I do at least get a close-up of just how good the top guys like Dunlop, Hickman, Johnson, and Harrison are. Dunlop is particularly spectacular, using the tiny pavement strip on the outside of the white line against the stone wall as his preferred racing line…
It is a full night and day’s work for the WCR guys as they pull the motor out of one bike and fit it into the racebike. They are done by 12:00 pm on Tuesday and still with no Jurby available, we put the bike in the van and head to the north end of the island for some highly illegal public road testing (see Instagram picture with policeman above).
Tuesday night goes off without a hitch. Three full laps in the bank is a good sign but the top speed is woeful. 160 mph down the Sulby Straight is something you expect from a mid-level 600, not a modified 1000.
I know this has a large part to do with me as I’ve never ridden this particular CBR before yesterday (the Kirkistown bike was a different model), and I’m not getting out of the Quarry Bends fast enough despite clicking top gear at top revs before the final kink.
Wednesday night is much of the same but the seat unit breaks on lap one just after Sulby and I have to ride the rest of the lap with my butt firmly placed on the seat, less the entire fiberglass unit goes flying off. My main hope is I won’t be black-flagged for it.
The light at Greeba Castle on Tuesday night is the stuff photographers dream of.
Darren and the boys strap the seat down with duct tape and send me out again but the same top speed problems persist. I am on a 127 mph lap to Ramsay (two-thirds of the way around the track) so I know we have pace in the twisties, but handling issues are now creeping in and I am at a loss as to how I am going to go faster. The speed we have is not enough to qualify.
I don’t sleep well that night. Lying in bed, all I can think is how am I going to make this bloody bike go quicker? I know no new engine is coming, no magic horsepower trick, so if I am not pulling the revs the only solution is to gear the CBR shorter. A lot shorter.
We go up two teeth on the rear sprocket, and I want the suspension looked at so out come the forks and shock and into the K-Tech van.
As it turns out, the shock needs a full rebuild and although the forks aren’t great, K-Tech gave them a freshen-up with new oil and settings.
I can feel the difference in the chassis the second I release the clutch and shoot off down Glencrutchery Road, and by the time I get on the gas out of Quarterbridge, the bike feels transformed. We are on for it, I know this can work, but then six miles later the gearbox does its venomous trick at Greeba Castle and the whole deal is over.
What a difference a day makes
It’s quite hard to believe not even 16 hours after the Honda’s gearbox failure I find myself in a new team, with a new bike, new awning, and a new outlook.
The atmosphere in the Kibosh Racing Team reminds me very much of one my dearly departed Godfather would have thrived in—polite piss-taking at its very British best. As Richard says, if you don’t get the piss taken out of you at some point, you know the boys don’t like you.
An hour or so into my time at Kibosh, the exaggerated Aussie accents and swear words are flying around the tent, so I know I’m safe.
Gabe and Kiwi Simon (right) hard at work getting the BMW’s shock out.
My little team of Gabe, Oscar, Kiwi Simon, Andy, and Maddi, who run errands while we work on the bike, gel perfectly. I’m not sure Gabe is quite ready for the onslaught of responsibility but the little Italian takes it all in his stride and assumes the role of team leader, ensuring the BMW gets through tech at the right time, tires are on, gas is in the tank, all the usual stuff required to make a bike work.
I clean the bodywork and make sure I’m not too much of a nuisance. It’s absolute privateer racing in the Kibosh tent, and I couldn’t be more comfortable.
The Superbike TT
As I line up for the first six-lap Superbike race on Sunday, June 4, I’ll admit to feeling a tad uneasy. I’ve completed only three laps with the BMW and although I feel the red German and I have an understanding of each other after I stepped up to the plate on that third lap last night, knowing we were still new to each other lends a little extra caution to the occasion.
The feeling as you stroll up to the start line of the Isle of Man TT is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. You pee a lot. Nervous wees just appear out of nowhere but unlike last year, when I was almost camped near the porta potty, this year I am calmer. I know what to expect.
Still, the nervous tension is palpable. The fans have a look of admiration and terror on their faces, concerned this might be the last time they see their loved one who is about the send it down Bray Hill.
We have lift off! Rennie and the Kibosh Racing BMW S 1000 RR wheelie over Ago’s Leap on lap one of the Superbike TT at over 160 mph.
I try my best not to look at anyone or anything other than the guy in front of me. Drown out the noise. Pass the “Rider and Machine Only” sign. Do my little pregame boxer glove punch. Pull the visor down. Tap on the shoulder. The 208 hp BMW engine roars its lungs out. It’s game time.
By the time I’m at Glen Helen, I’ve already closed down the 10-second gap to Finland’s Erno Kostamo, the reigning Macau Grand Prix champion. I know I’m going good.
A lap later, I’m on Frenchman Amalric Blanc, and I pass him going up Hailwood’s Rise. At the end of lap two, after starting 49th, I’m up to 39th, but I’m fucking exhausted.
“How in the blue hell am I going to do another four laps?” I ask myself. The next two laps are just a matter of getting to the next pit stop, but I’m still making forward progress and have jumped up to 33rd by the second stop.
A drink of water and an electrolyte gel later, Gabe fills the BMW’s tank, the Arai guy changes my visor, Kiwi Simon cleans my screen and I see a carrot I know will taste really sweet. It’s my old CVMA sparring buddy, Texan Chris Sarbora, on his MotoHub UK BMW just in front of me in his pit.
I know I’ve already closed down the one-minute gap on the road to Chris as he started 43rd, but I want to pass him all the same, if anything so he has to buy me a drink later in the week.
The time comes into Ballacraine, the right-hander that leads into the forest of Ballaspur, Doran’s Bend, Laurel Bank, and Glen Helen. Damn, I’m feeling good now!
The battle of CVMA reaches the TT as Rennie closes on his old sparring partner from the Chuckwalla Valley Motorcycle Association, Chris Sarbora.
Through my favorite section of the track of Laurel Bank and Glen Helen and onto the Cronk-y-Voddy straight, it’s game on. I’ve got energy to burn, the BMW is charging and I’m catching guys at a rate of knots now. That physical wall I hit at the end of lap two is smashed and the adrenaline is flowing, but as I come through the fifth-gear Alpine right-hander, someone pulls the plug out of the wall. The BMW shuts off and coasts to a halt.
It’s beyond devastating.
I’d come this far and after all the crap I’d gone through to get here, having a little diagnostic wire work its way loose and short out by rubbing on the rear tire is a kick in the nuts.
At least the BMW is good enough to dump me at the entry to Ballaugh Bridge where there’s a pub and plenty of people who want to buy me a pint.
Back in the pits, the boys strip the BMW down and find the culprit wire. It’s often said a five-cent washer can ruin a race and that’s never been more evident than at the TT. This place beats the absolute crap out of a motorcycle, and I know the failure wasn’t down to anything other than just bad luck.
Still, seeing as we have the day off tomorrow the crew and I head out to the local Bar 1886 for a few commiserating drinks…
These lovely guys were there for Rennie when it all looked like it was over on Thursday night.
The Superstock TTs
The next two Superstock races go swimmingly. A 34th place in the first race is backed up by 31st in the second, one that might have delivered me a coveted Bronze Replica trophy for finishing within 110 percent of the race-winning time, had the great Peter Hickman not smashed the overall lap record on his FHO Racing BMW M 1000 RR on the last lap.
The noise of the start line filters to near silence as Rennie focuses on what’s about to happen.
His lap of 136.359 mph is something I’m still to wrap my head around. That average speed must take into account two near dead stop hairpins, countless little second and first-gear corners, and plenty of wide-the-f-open sections only the bravest dare take on with the noise tube on the stops.
I know how hard I am trying in that second race but Hickman’s last lap was nearly 16 mph up on mine. Yes, his bike is faster, newer, probably better prepared, blah, blah, blah, but the fact this time is done on a Superstock bike and not the full-house Superbike shows the skill and bravery of the man to thread the needle so finely at such velocity.
The Senior TT
The final race of the 2023 Isle of Man TT is the one everyone wants to win, even those who know they have absolutely no hope to do so.
The Senior TT is the oldest motorcycle race in the world, having started in 1907 and run every year save for two World Wars, the foot and mouth epidemic, and the Coronavirus pandemic of 2020-2021.
If the lead-up to the Superbike TT is intense, everything is ratcheted up 10-fold for the Senior. The race has an aura, a presence that cannot be replicated anywhere in racing, and my nerves are a bit squeezed as I pass the “Rider and Machine Only” sign.
Gabe wheels Rennie to the line for the Senior TT.
I just want to get this thing underway but a shocking start is a sign of things to come. I can’t get the BMW’s clutch to release smoothly and it takes a few seconds for drive to arrive at the rear wheel, making me look like a right dunce in front of the packed grandstand.
Earlier that day I got absolutely smacked with hay fever thanks to the blooming, gorgeous Isle of Man, and my eyes are constantly watering on the first lap. I forget to blink occasionally and when I do, floods of tears stream down my face as my eyes rehydrate and my vision blurs up. Not ideal.
I’m back to riding tight, too tight for the rigors of the Isle of Man TT Mountain Course.
But as I come into The Nook at the end of the second lap, my fate is sealed for me. I shift from third to second gear but the gear linkage doesn’t return. The lever stays up, so as I go for first gear for Governor’s Dip, the slowest corner on the track, the linkage falls off completely. Little do I know at the time, but it’s game over.
Steve English paints a beautiful picture as Rennie rides through Union Mills in the Senior TT.
The very recently retired Dave Hewson tries valiantly to put the linkage back on but as it has come off, the splines have been burred, and thus the linkage refuses to go home.
“That’s it, boys,” I tell them as Dave furiously hammers away in the pit. The TT grandstand by now is giving Dave a massive cheer, hoping to see the linkage on and me ride away, but, in my heart of hearts and after last Thursday’s gearbox scare, running around for last place with a dodgy linkage is the last thing I want.
We call it. The TT is over. Dave wheels the BMW away. The Kibosh team and I are given a standing ovation by the TT grandstand. It’s bittersweet. But I know it’s for the best. The TT Mountain Course is not a place to be messed with on a bike not 100 percent. I walk back to the pits sad but relieved. I’m in one piece. It could always, always be worse at the TT. I give a quick TV interview, then someone hands me a beer. Job done.
It’s over. The BMW has cried enough. That’s it for 2023.
Final thoughts
I will always love the Isle of Man TT. It’s a place so dear to my heart. To be a small part of TT history is something I’ll always cherish (I’m part of the illustrious father and son TT racer club), and I can look back on the two Finisher’s Medals from this year as well as from last year with pride and lament the two I didn’t get due to mechanical problems.
One thing I can take away from the TT this year is despite the mechanical problems, I didn’t crash either the Honda or BMW bike, even though the chances of doing so were very real. The fact the BMW’s gear linkage broke at The Nook and not somewhere like Hillberry a couple of miles up the road is good fortune in the extreme, so although I failed to finish, the TT gods were smiling on me that day.
The 2023 TT also showed me just how good guys like Peter Hickman, Dean Harrison, David Johnson, Michael Dunlop, and the rest really are.
I know how hard I was trying but I wasn’t prepared to squeeze it that little bit harder, and I’m OK with that now.
To ride the Isle of Man TT Mountain Course on any bike, let alone a full race-spec 1000cc machine, is an experience that’s almost impossible to top.
What the guys at the front of a TT race do on 1000cc bikes is so special, so utterly incredible, I feel I only now truly appreciate it having been in the same race as them.
We live in a time where the world is changing—most would say for the worse—and I have no idea how long the TT will continue for. It is a relic of a past time. You’d never get it going today if it didn’t already exist.
I implore you: if you haven’t yet done so, go and see the Isle of Man TT for yourself. It’s an experience you’ll not get anywhere else in the world. The people are wonderful, the hospitality endless—same as the beer—and you’re in a world where motorcycling and motorcyclists are the majority, if only for two weeks.
To say I’ve raced a 1000cc bike at the Isle of Man is something I’m very proud of and I don’t mind saying so. I also don’t mind saying that I am not of the same ilk as the gods of modern-day TT racing. I am but a tourist in the Tourist Trophy. I am the Isle of Man TT’s humbled son.
Farewell, my friend
The dangers of the Isle of Man are well known, but it still doesn’t make it any easier when one of our own falls.
Raul Torras Martinez was Spain’s fastest-ever road racer and a great all-around guy.
Raul Torras Martinez, Spain’s premier road racer, lost his life on the final lap of the first Supertwins race on Tuesday, June 6, when he crashed at the daunting Alpine corner. Raul was the 267th victim of the race. He was 46.
Torres and I had two close battles during both the Supersport TTs in 2022, so we got to know each other well, if only as track buddies. In 2023, my Wilson Craig Honda team was directly opposite his, and we spoke many times of the troubles we were both facing with our machines. Raul had a narrow escape when his Aprilia, the one he eventually passed on, dumped oil on his rear tire at Union Mills on his first lap of practice. I’m still unsure how he got away with that one.
When I switched to the Kibosh Racing Team, Raul’s chair and mine were back-to-back in the hot pit. We’d shake hands each time we were due to go out on track, and wish each other luck with a solid look in each other’s eyes.
It was a very strange feeling when I approached my chair for the second Superstock TT and he wasn’t there.
Rennie looks into the vacant space before the Senior TT where Raul used to pit.
Raul was a very focused man and the fastest Spaniard ever to lap the TT Mountain Course. Earlier on what would turn out to be his final day, he’d just set a new benchmark of 125.470 mph in the first Superstock TT, and I’ve no doubt that mark would have been set higher had he continued on for the remainder of the event.
Raul loved the TT and the Mountain Course and chose the island as his final resting place, when a funeral procession was held on Wednesday, June 21, where his casket completed a full lap of the course while being accompanied by hundreds of street motorcyclists.
Raul had just broken his best lap time earlier in the day in the Superstock TT.
Godspeed, Raul. See you on the other side, my friend.
Fair play, Mr. Hickman. Fair play.
Take the next 18 minutes out of your day and watch this lap. This is the fastest recorded lap of the 37.73-mile Isle of Man TT Mountain Course, courtesy of the great Peter Hickman on his FHO Racing BMW M 1000 RR.
The lap is from the second Superstock TT in which I finished 31st. Hickman pulled this magic time on the final lap as he took the win by 17 seconds from Michael Dunlop and Dean Harrison, who was nearly a minute behind at the flag, such was Hickman’s searing pace.
The video is a study in how to ride a big bike around the greatest racetrack in the world. Hickman pulls time everywhere, but the real magic is in how he uses the motor’s midrange to short shift into sixth gear as early as possible in so many sections, which allows him access to the monster top speed numbers the BMW is capable of.
I take my hat off to you, Mr. Hickman. This is a lap of for the ages.
Cheers and thanks
Getting a project like this off the ground takes so many people and it’s impossible to thank them but I’m going to give it a try.
First, thank you to the sponsors who jumped on to make this dream a reality. Abhi and Adam at Iconic Motorbikes were instrumental in helping fund the project, and I was extremely proud to wear a set of leathers that even Nathan Harrison told me looked “super factory”.
Ryan McFarlane at Strider Bikes, the brand of bike that my boy first learned to ride on, jumped on board as a last-minute sponsor and I was very happy to represent a brand I firmly believe in, not just for the product but what they are doing in schools to get young children riding bikes again.
The Kibosh Racing Team from left: Hilary, Andy, rider Gary Vines, Dan, Wiz, Pete, Gabriele, rider Shaun Anderson, Steven, Hank, Dave Hewson, Rennie, Craig, rider Richard Wilson, and Maddie. What a great team to be a part of.
Oscar Solis and the crew at Metzeler tires have been with me for many years and I wouldn’t run anything else at the TT. Oscar is a firm member of my racing inner circle and his advice on tire management is only superseded by his help as a mate when things get tough. I swear he should get a psychiatrist’s certificate after this one.
Heath and Gabrielle at Alpinestars gave me the best-looking leathers on the Isle of Man and I never once had any thoughts that I wasn’t wearing the best protective gear possible.
Rennie and good mate from Australia, TT star, David Johnson.
Brian, Jeff, and Garrett at Arai Helmets and the crew from Arai Helmets Europe had me dialed for helmets from day one, and the service offered at the track in preparing each lid after practice and racing was exceptional.
Thank you to my Aussie mate David Johnson and Paul Phillips at the Isle of Man TT for brokering this deal to race a 1000cc bike with the Wilson Craig team. Without the support of either, it wouldn’t have happened. John Barton at the TT also lent me a bunch of fireproof gear for my new pit team in Kibosh Racing and is another man that went out of his way to help me, so thanks, mate.
Oscar Solis (right) was way more than just a help with Metzeler rubber.
Thanks also to Darren Gilpin and the WCR team. I’m sorry it didn’t work out but I appreciate the time and effort that went into the project.
Simon and Maddi Patterson deserve a special mention. Without their help, I’d never have found another team to ride for and my TT would have been done after four nights.
Andy and Richard Wilson, Gabe, and the whole crew in the Kibosh Racing Team were some of the best people I could ever have had the opportunity to race with. They didn’t know me at all prior to me asking if I could race their bike, and they welcomed me with open arms.
The BMW was the perfect machine to race the TT with and I loved the fact it wore the same Marlboro color scheme as my all-time racing hero, Wayne Rainey.
Happy days with Team Kibosh.
Dave Hewson, who decided to call it a day after Raul’s crash, became my BMW team’s spare parts and advice man. His help was absolutely invaluable. He never complained I was asking him—again—for something, and always had the time to answer any of the dumb questions I asked. Thanks, so much, mate.
Shaun Anderson, the man who gave me an awning to put my Suzuki under last year when my team packed up and left, also needs to be mentioned for his tips and advice on how to go faster. Sorry I didn’t mate.
Simon’s help over the past two years has been incredible.
Also, thanks to one of my oldest mates, Simon Hallam, for all the background work we did this year, as well as just being there when things got tough. During those times, you can count your real friends on one hand, and Simon, along with Oscar, is definitely one of them.
Finally, thanks to Sean Finley, Jesse Ziegler, Kit Palmer, and Ryan Nitzen for his video editing skills, for allowing me to chase this dream of racing the Isle of Man TT. Without their support, there’s no way any of this would have happened. But I did promise them a hell of a story, and I think I delivered…
Isle of Man TT Video Diaries
Vlog 1
Vlog 2
Vlog 3
Vlog 4
Vlog 5
For more Isle of Man TT news, features, and results, click here
