For some time, Mark and I have fantasised about taking to the race track. However, at our age, we know that's no longer an option but it would still be good to take the bikes onto a track. We'd had a "track experience" at Cadwell Park in Lincolnshire a few years back but that was merely a quick three lap session. Now we both have "proper" sports bikes, we felt it was time to try them out for real. To that end, Mark bought me a track day voucher at Christmas, which was cashed in on 2 July 2006, at the National ciruit at Silverstone.

I get to Mark's house at about 11:00. First order of the day is breakfast, so I take him to Gale's cafe in Avenue Road to ready ourselves for the day ahead. Suitably stuffed, we go to Morrisons to get provender for tomorrow.

Back to the house and Mark pressgangs his daughter into making packed lunches while we make a double-check of our list. The car is loaded with the gear and the bikes onto the trailer, which is then rolled out onto the road. This in itself is a major exercise, as the gas company has dug up the road, including all but 3 feet of Mark's drive width. Undeterred, we manhandle the trailer, complete with £10k of motorcycles over the pavement and hitch it to the car.

This highlights our next problem - the trailer wiring. Nothing works as it should. The left car indicator is linked to the right trailor indicator, the right indicator to the fog lights, the stop lights set off an indicator, the list goes on. Mark phones the trailer dealer who reads off the correct order of wiring colours. They seem in order so we drive to a local garage to see if we can get any advice. There's only one guy there who can't help but phones all the local garages to see if there's someone who can. Many calls later and he's not succeeded. We thank him for his efforts and decide to use a friend's trailer board to do another test.

Eventually, we end up completely rewiring the trailer. We now have all lights working except the offside trailer rear light. As we will only be driving in daylight, we decide to not worry about that and set off, some four hours later than planned. Fortunately, the drive to the B&B is uneventful and we arrive about 8:00pm. We go into Towcester to find something to eat and plump for what must be the worst chippy in the country. Oh well; it's a bit of bulk, I guess. Back to the B&B for a good night's kip.

Sunday 2 July:

Up bright and early and the anticipation is mounting. Both of us are now pretty nervous about this. We have a light breakfast, pay up and drive off to the track. A hundred yards later, we double back to the B&B to retrieve the packed lunches we'd left in their fridge.....

We get to the circuit about 7:30 and already the temperature is 26 degrees. There are a few people there ahead of us and we park up in front of garage 4C, our home for the next few hours. Bikes are unloaded from the trailer and stood in the cool garage. We go and register and are amazed at the number of people here. Registration is a quick process and we are handed our novice group 1 stickers and wristbands.

The briefing session starts at 8:30 and we are given detailed instructions as to what to expect, what to do and what not to do. Following the briefing, we are given another sticker to show we attended and the novice group is told to get ready to go on track for a 9:00 sighting session. It's as well we have got the bikes fuelled and ready and that we had already got most of our gear on.

Sighting session: As we line up, the man checks that we all have the novice group and briefing stickers on the bike. He then places another sticker on the screen and, once we're all stickered up, we follow the instructors out, two at a time, for our three-lap sighting session. I assumed this would be a gentle amble round, to see where the track goes and to warm the tyres. Yeah; right. The guys in front of me have all but disappeared. I apologise to the bike and have to cane it just to catch up. I'm very wary at this point; neither Mark nor I have tyre warmers. Not that we'd have got any use out of them for this session, as it was so close to briefing. I really don't want to bin it, especially not at this stage. However, I do catch up and we all blat round the course, looking out for lines, lights, marshals and al that stuff. After three laps, we're red-flagged back into the pits to line up for the track session itself.

Stomach releasing swarms of butterflies, I am given the all-clear to go out. I decide to try and take it steady to start with; just get my bearings and remind myself I'm here to enjoy it. I get round the course without incident and make it to the start-finish straight. It's at this point that my first error occurs. I'm looking at the bike ahead and trying to take his line when I realise that:

1. he's leaning a looooong way over and
2. I'm coming into Copse way too hot.

I don't recall panicking particularly. However, I do shut off (no braking, mind), stand the bike up and fly off the track over the grass and onto the off-side tarmac. I realise at this point that there's a 600 Fazer up my chuff who's had to follow me off, too. We get straight back on the track at Maggotts, calm down a little and continue the lap. The only thought going through my mind was "Geez - if this is a novice track session, what's it going to be like at Ron Haslam's school?" I was seriously questioning my decision to go to Donnington next month. However, I also knew that if I bottled out now, I'd never get to grips with the fear, so I soldiered on and finished the session.

The guy on the Fazer is in the same garage as me, so first order of the rest period is to introduce myself and apologise to him. Friends again, I go back to the bike and see if I'd done any damage in coming off. The bike is unscathed but the tyres haven't looked like this before. It looks like I'd been leaning a fair way over, much more than is my usual wont.

Mark had been in front of me and therefore unaware of my minor excursion. His round had been uneventful yet "remarkably focussing", apparently. It seems that, despite the warnings of the instructors, there were some here whose sole intent was to race, even at our novice level. Some of the overtaking manoeuvres were close, to say the least. During the day, both Mark and I found ourselves lining someone up to pass them, when we get baulked ourselves, screwing our lines up and (temporarily) knocking our confidence.

Second session: I think a little more this time, using the laps to find overtaking points and to see if there are any potential victims to pass. I don't mind being passed; I just don't want to be lapped by everyone. Lines are experimented with; some good, some dire, to be frank. My worst area now is the complex by the pit entrance, from Brooklands, through Luffield and into Woodcote. The chicane after Luffield screws me every time and I can't get the power on properly to fly out of Woodcote into the finish straight. I haven't got the bottle yet to pin it and change gear whilst leaning over to catch up with the other flyers. I see Mark ahead and start to catch him. Keeping a suitable distance back, I see his lines are very similar to mine but he can get the gas on earlier than me. However, after a few more laps, I catch him on the finish straight, outbrake him by miles, deck the bike right over into Copse ("steady, steady") and blast past two more riders as I flick it over into Maggotts and then the long, long, right-hander of Becketts. Into the Club straight and I'm flying but suddenly the bike dies. I look down to see that I've hit the rev limiter. I click up another gear and the bike is off again but I've lost the two places that I made. I catch one of them at Brooklands and slip on the inside to make up one of the places. The other guy has gone, never to be caught up again. As I get onto the straight, I hear my last victim closing up but the chequred flag is up, so it's no overtaking and we get back into the pits.

I'm looking at my now well mullered rear tyre. I've not quite made the chicken strips but there's maybe 2mm of rubber left before I'm on the edge. However, there are even gaps between bobbles so I take the bike to the tyre technician. Who advises me to drop the pressure down to 30 at the back and 32 at the front. He also advises the same for Mark's bike. We leave the tyres to cool down and let the air out a little later.

Next session feels a bit better for me; more passes but I've still not sussed out that pit area complex of hairpins. I decide to watch others as they go round. It's an area where there's normally a fair bit of traffic so you can get a pretty good idea. Once I think I've got it, I decide on another flying lap. All goes well until I get to the left-hander at Brooklands. I'm going in well and brake very late, then don't select gear properly, so the bike jumps out and provides me with a new neutral. I cut right across the path of the Kawasaki 636 that I'd just outbraked, wave to apologise and wobble round the corner. Bugger. As I get to Woodgate, the red flag is out. I'm now panicking, thinking that I'd made the guy crash. We all slow down and circulate back to the pits and I see a rider on the grass at Maggotts and an SV650 facing the wrong way. Whilst we're concerned for the rider (another one from our garage, as it turned out) I'm pleased that I hadn't taken the Kawasaki rider out. The session is ended early while rider and bike are taken to the Med centre and garage respectively. The woman rider ended up with a badly twisted ankle and suspected broken wrist and finger. The Suzi ended up with a badly mangled offside and had to be loaded up into a Transit, as it would not be rideable.

Meanwhile, Mark has had a terrible session. His bike won't turn any more. Whilst the back doesn't feel too bad, the front keeps trying to go straight on corners. He ups the pressure back to 36 and hopes the fourth session gives an improvement. As it turned out, it did just that; he wiped the floor with me. I finally started catching him as the chequered flag came out.

There were a few stoppages during the day due to offs but, as far as we were aware, no major injuries. Not to riders at least; there were four totalled bikes that we saw. Very sobering, especially as two of them had been ridden to the track.

The day was brilliant and both Mark and I were glad that we went. The only poorly organised part was that of getting photographs. We queued for an hour and a half to get photos because they were only available on the day. The other problem we encountered was the M1 traffic; hold ups all the way home. This meant, of course, that we WERE driving at night. Fortunately, you can see the car lights through the bikes on the trailer and no focussing incidents occurred on the way home.

Finally - no, I didn't get my knee down. One step at a time, methinks.

So; to the pictures for the evidence. Note once again the protagonists' wannabee replica helemts, race leathers, etc.....