I have to repeat I utterly admired Shaun for mixing it at the Cemetery. However, until recently my admiration was vicarious, in as much as, I've never fallen off any horse, iron or flesh, at a rate, and with an outcome guaranteed to test my get-back-on-resolve.

Recently, I got a first-hand taste of just that. Albeit nothing like the level Shaun sustained.

I've been getting kind've used to low-siding and hitting the kitty-litter with only slightly painfull (for my body) results. But on each and every occasion I came away understanding the cause; ergo me. That is, until Manfield a week or so ago, at the CDMC meet.

Sure, the track was a bit damp, but I'd been in that scene before. Came to the hairpin on lap 2, respecting the conditions a bit, and poom! down I went. Picked my sorry arse up and went away again. But what worried me was, I didn't understand the reason for that bin.

By the last round the track was dry. Way in the back of my mind was the bin at the hairpin (earlier) but not enough to cause me to other than be a bit more careful each trip through.

There I was, feeling good, chasing a dude on a Duke. He went in close and slow into the turn to the sweeper. I went wide, got the legs on him, poured on the gas as the bike started rising out of the turn, and poom! Went down again. I was going quite fast. That hurt a bit.:--(((

Turns out....after a couple more unscheduled rests at Taupo over the last couple of days, I learned that my suspension was munted.....probably due to the major bin at Manfield during the Brian Bernard day.

I know Jack-Shit about such matters, but after spaltting at Taupo, well inside my normal envelope, I called on the experts for advice....ergo, "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Suspension," they said.

'Munted," said the Doctor. "Munted," said the nurse. "munted," said the lady with the alligator purse.

Off to Chris Mtichel. Now there's a can-do guy. He spent 35 minutes AT NO CHARGE and said, 'There ya go. Good as new...almost. But it'll do.'

Next day, back on the track....Motott day. I respect Chris' knowledge, but I'm getting kinda pissed at hurting my bike. First round? Pathetic. I may as well have been in the slowbie class.

Don't get me wrong here, it's not my skin I'm worried about, its my bike. Jesus! But it looks like it's been a part of a WW11 super-bomb experiment. Even both knobs are bent as well as worn down to the bolts!

But Chris assurred me. 'It's now okay. Get out there and do it!'

Yeah, right. I've had advice from the doctor, the nurse, and the lady with the alligator purse.

Sure, the munted suspension made sense. But was it just that or was it some of me as well?

So I did round two with a slight improvement, but my heart wasn't in it.

Just prior to R3 Chris came over and told me he'd been thinking about my bike....How good is that?! Here's a guy running a track-day and finds time to think about a nobody's bike.... 'I've thought about it. You need,'...and he went on to explain another quick fix. 'Meantime, the bike's okay, so ride it!'

BTW: He made an interesting statement about then. It was.."Cold tyres will corner as a well as warm, providing you don't accelerate through a turn. Cold tyres can go straight at any speed, corner at any speed, brake at any speed, and accelorate at any speed, but they can't do two of these things at the same time.'

Anyway, out I went for R3, and as I was pootling around the track to warm my tyres the vision of Shaun, blasting through the right-hander into the cemetery, entered my mind...and I realised I was scared, yet I haven't died, or even been more than slightly impecuniated as a result of bins.

It was about then I decided to trust what Chris had told me, and acknowledged that Shaun had come back from unbelievably way worse than anything which has happened to me, so I got out there and gave it death.

Result? Fucked up a few turns, as usual, but gave it death anyway, right up to and including, 'Fuck this early braking shit into the S before the straight...and that poxy resin which had freaked me out.' I gave it death and came away into the pits in the end knowing one absolute. My head is a way bigger enemy than any track or perceived problem....except munted suspension, of course.

But I'd come back from a few minor bins. Shaun came back from a major.

I'm not sure I could emulate that. But fuck, it was a great learn. :--))

Thanks Shaun, your example of getting back on the horse was the phillip I needed.

See you all at Manfield for the CMCC.

After that, I'm going bucket racing. At least I won't have to put up with watching Willie washing his arse with a flannel, at camp!