had the sand shaken out of us. Having done the

first run on racing slicks, the truck was fitted

with different tyres to try to give Dave more

grip, the bike was given a bigger gear, then we

set off again. By now the sun, the wind and

the truck had loosened the surface sand to the

extent that the second run was even worse than

the first. The air flow around the truck and the

fairing was working exactly as Jason Hill had

predicted, with the air that had been pushed out

of the way collapsing back in behind the truck

and being sucked in to the area of low pressure.

The trouble was, it was bringing sand with it.

I was being blasted from both sides and the

rear, although the new baffles on the truck and

fairing were minimising the stuff coming

at me head on.

Below: Attaching the tow cable. We filled in the stop
bar to make a kind of shelf. I could have had a mug of
tea on there . . .

Visibility was worse than ever. My visor was

steaming up but I couldn’t raise it because

I would get sand straight in my eyes and be

able to see nothing at all. I was struggling

to breathe and, worst of all, the bike was

not entirely stable. I wasn’t sinking into the

surface as you would if you tried cycling on a

normal beach, but I was leaving a slight track,

which meant that I was wasting power, and I

needed all the power I could generate. With

the surface shifting ever so slightly, I was also

feeling the bike wobble. It made my ‘moment’

at Bruntingthorpe seem like a stroll in the park.

Altogether, it was a pretty horrific experience,

but there was no way I was going to quit. We

finished the second run – 112.9 mph.

Altogether, it was a pretty horrific

experience, but there was no way

I was going to quit.

I felt utterly knackered, but I knew that if I had

a chance to catch my breath I would be able to

give it another go. Dave was up for it as well and

we probably had enough time to do it, but wiser

heads said no. The conditions were deemed

too dangerous. If I were to come off the bike,

I would not slide along the surface like I have

done in the past on concrete or tarmac. A knee,

an elbow or my head would dig in and it would

be pretty much like hitting a brick wall.

We had beaten the record, albeit not by as much

as we had hoped and the frustrating thing was

that we knew we could have done far better.

The surface at Pendine had held us back but we

had won through in the end. All we needed was

a long stretch of smooth empty road – I wonder

if the men at the transport ministry have got any

plans to close the M42 again?

Top right: Close to the

truck, still on the tow cable.

70  Britain’s Fastest Bike

Bottom right: Dropping

back slightly once the

cable was released –

more speed, please, legs!