45 Road Club



45RC @ Silverstone BMCC 9up 10TT - 10/08/12

Some images of the club team in action at the BMCC 9 Up 10TT on the Silverstone race track on Friday 10th Aug 2012


The Team....

    

Images by David Brown - full gallery available here

45RC - 7th overall, great result.           George's Garmin trace
Full results document here...

BMCC Silverstone 9-up TT
The Team for this event was, in picture order left to right - Bob Swannack, Tel Rothe, Tom Kruger, 
Kevin Hardwick, Justin Garon, Alastair Shed, Ian Pateman, George Fox, Phil Melling
It is quite some time ago that Justin found the details and suggested we enter a team for the BMCC Silverstone
9-up TT on August 10th.  Thinking there is plenty of time to sort a team, arrange some training and talk 
tactics is really the wrong approach.  June and July just seemed to go, and suddenly there we are talking 
piffle about the rims and the whether they will notice?

A quick bit of organisation and we managed to meet a week before at Sywell and did a loop up the Harrowden 
roundabout and back …. Twice … with Dave following in the car but not being able to write down all the 
problems whilst driving and taking photos!
Is this enough?? …. Well another evening arranged for next Tuesday.  That soon came around and the team 
managed one loop as the rain started and we all thought …….. ???

Well the day finally dawned with a mixture of excitement and trepidation for the riders. The endless, well 
two, training rides were behind us and the team was finely honed and ready to go.  And so the team met in 
Garage 11 of the Silverstone pit lane. There seemed to be two camps established within the garage.

Those who were excited and raring to go, full of confidence or overconfidence or naivety or talent or maybe 
it was just caffeine, …… and then there were the rest who were much more concerned or under confident or 
realistic or aware of the impending pain or in need of caffeine. In a blur of kit swapping, tyre pumping, 
lycra stretching (some more than others) and team number pinning, and, with all of the speed and streamlining
of an F1 pit crew with a serious hang over, the team were ready. The 9 lambs headed off to the track to warm
up for their, now imminent, slaughter.

After 20 minutes or so of gentle through and off, or sprint training if you happened to be in the back half 
of the "45 train" when cornering. The 9 lambs returned to garage 11 to debrief, the main topic of 
conversation being, "well that was easy" or "god it's windy out there", depending on which camp you had a 
foot in. With the weather and ease of riding discussed it was time to move on to the track, and again there 
were two camps established. Those who were happy with the two warm up laps and those who were even happier 
with their three laps. Hang on chaps we were all together? Two finish lines you say, two grids you say, it 
seems we can even get lost on a race track. Anyway no matter now, we need to get to the start.

"What do you mean you want to see our "bikes checked" certificate?" (we are oblivious). "Didn't someone come
and check the bikes?". In fact a Marshall had been to check our bikes (well it was more of a cursory count,
and I think it would be fair to say that, he would have been happy with 8 or 10) but he left no certificate
of safety. "No safety check certificate, no ride", and then like Mr Bens' shopkeeper the Marshall was gone
(George/Tom, ask a grown up!). Paul was despatched for said certificate, and, being a resourceful chap, 
returned in time with said certificate, or for the sake of accuracy, a stamp sized scrap of paper with the 
word "checked" stamped across it.

Finally all was in place and it seemed this momentary glitch had galvanised the two camps into one with the 
nervous camp having won the day. Just time for a bit of nervous banter and a last minute team talk before 
the lambs headed to the start line. All held up in echelon formation and with the massed crowd (well massed
for a TT) around us this had the feeling of something a bit more serious than a wet Wednesday in Salcey 
Forrest. 1 minute to go, come on team. 30 seconds, try and enjoy it, 10 seconds, stay safe, 5/4/3/2/1, oh 
S##t what are we doing. As we headed up the pit lane (yes it is up hill), the commentator (yes there was a 
commentator) informed us that Team Arbis had just taken the fastest lap in a time of 8:08.

I tried to keep the early pace steady as the other 8 lambs tried to find a home in the line and avoid early 
slaughter. Meanwhile I prayed that Justin "hardman" Garron hadn't heard the announcement, his last words 
being "I don't care what happens as long as we beat that Arbis lot".

Finally we were out on the track and racing, we knew that the first half of the lap was an uphill drag into
the wind so short turns were the order of the day. We had exited the pit lane just behind a team from the 
British Army. This seemed momentarily fittings as this was a "Help the Heroes" charity event. Gradually the
soldiers were being reeled in by the lambs, who were steadily beginning to pick the pace up. Big Tom hit 
the front and he and George dragged the soldiers back, all of those play station laps were paying dividends
now as they cornered like Lewis Hamilton. The second half of lap one turned into a battle with our heroes,
who seemed to be glad of the help into the head wind. Neither team could quite establish themselves on the 
racing line until Bob, Shed and Phil eventually sorted it in our favour. Back through the start finish 
straight and we had successfully found our way around a whole lap. A quick glance around told me, we had 
lost two of our team but a check of the watch confirmed a sub 8 minute lap. Justin would be chuffed, if 
only I could speak I would have let him know!
So off onto our "flying lap" we went. With clear road ahead and a now well established train running more 
smoothly than in the early stages lap two was largely uneventful. Apart from the odd minor derailment of 
a few rear carriages on a couple of technical corners (maybe there's something in this play station 
training?) the team seemed pretty slick, dare I say, well oiled. With that confidence grew, but so too 
did lactic acid! In what seemed like a blur we were back in the start finish straight. Another quick head
count revealed that the remaining seven had held firm and the watch said we had stolen a few seconds from 
our lap one time. Right then  the final lap, let's have it.

Back up the drag, which now felt like an alpine climb, into the head wind, which was now feeling like a 
gale. The team was certainly trying its heart out and it was clear that a few of us were on our absolute
limits. Half a lap to go and suddenly as I rolled back down the train looking for the sanctuary of wheel 
6 to hide behind, S##t, I'm off the back. Where is wheel 6, come on brain why can't you count? Hang on I 
can count and you're wheel 6 because 7 isn't here anymore. After a massive effort to get "back on" the 
train now being driven hard by big JG I was fearing I was next for the chop! It seemed I wasn't alone as
Justin swung off to let Tom increase the already electric pace he was called back in "mid train" by Phil.
Thanks Phil I thought, because the longer it took me to get back to the front the better. With maybe a mile
and half to go it was time for the teams confident, caffeine fuelled riders to step up, and step up they 
did. As Tom and Justin took longer more frequent turns, we, the remainder, seemed to take shorter, fewer 
turns, and thank God because, I for one was hanging on by now, with thoughts of, "try and keep at least 
6 riders" still ringing in my ears from Bob "wise old sage" Swannack. Finally around the last corner came
the most welcome sight of the finishing line and the afore mentioned massed crowd.
The message went out, "bridge to engine room, commence sprint".
The reply came back, "engine room to bridge, I already did!"
Doh.......... Somehow, amid grunting, snorting, and a little mouth only vomit (it's not real sick if you 
keep it in), the team crossed in line abreast formation to maximise the time of 5th wheel. As we rolled 
up the mountain into the gale the commentator was heard to say, "and crossing the line in a new fastest 
time of 23:44 that was the 45 Road Club". Pain and suffering instantly forgotten the lambs had 
stepped up and avoided the slaughter. Within minutes Bob could be heard to say, next year I reckon we 
should......................

Many thanks to the team for putting in such a good effort  when it was needed, and to those of you who 
came to watch and support, many thanks also.  To those who did not come and watch, ….well you missed a 
good evening.  There are postings on FB and in our gallery, so enjoy what you see.
ANON
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