There is a sudden moment when you feel the twist grip hit the stop

And you know that the shining aluminium slide is cracked absolutely wide open

The motor is snucked up in the tallest gear and the air sucks into the
motor two hundred times a second

The air around starts to scream and the vision around the edges of
your eyes closes down and suddenly you are looking through a letterbox
at the ever narrowing road ahead

There is the ever rising howl of motor and gears and wind and tyre and
road and the horizon is ramming itself into your brain in bigger and
bigger and bigger lumps

Somewhere deep in base of the back of skull the message is generated
unknown by your conscious brain and the wrist snaps the throttle

The noise stops

… the life of a Postie GP rider is one of excitement and danger. Find out more here

Posted in: Racing


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