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Brian Christian: Mike Hailwood at the 1967 Isle of Man T.T.

For many, the soundtrack to the summer of '67 might well feature Waterloo Sunset, A Whiter Shade of Pale and San Francisco. For me, eleven years old at the time and in my last year of Primary School, no sound evokes more vivid memories of the summer of love than the banshee howl of Mike Hailwood’s six cylinder Honda screaming its way around the twists and bends of the notorious Isle of Man TT course.

The TT races still attract motorsport fans from all over the world. For two weeks every year the Island’s population almost doubles as excited crowds cross the Irish Sea to witness death-defying riders and their cutting edge machines do battle with the fearsome 37-mile mountain course. This has been happening since 1907 but in my mind at least, the Diamond Jubilee TT meeting will forever be remembered as road racing’s finest.

Looking back over half a century is a treacherous game. Memory can be deceitful, offering bright days in the sun that never were and painting out the greys – but I can say with certainty that June 1967 was a golden time.

Showing an admirable grasp of priorities, Manx schools always ensure that the summer half-term holiday coincides with TT race week. And occasionally the weather gods give their blessing to this thoughtful synchronicity. In 1967 they were feeling kind. On race days, under blue skies and with door-stop cheese and pickle sandwiches already sweating in the bags slung over our shoulders, my mates and I would head out of Ramsey towards the Albert Towerno later than half-past eight. Soon after nine we would be among the first to claim our favourite roadside vantage point up at the Waterworks.

Getting the right spot was important. Here the riders were beginning their acceleration up the mountain road after negotiating the Ramsey Hairpin, one of the slowest corners on the course. By the time they reached us, the bikes were piling on the power and you could hear how hard they were working. Tommy Robb’s little 50cc Suzuki whining like a demented dentist’s drill, the unmistakable deep-throated rumble of Renzo Pasolini’s 500cc Benelli. And that smell – the sweet, smoky haze of Castrol R hanging in the air. Best of all, in those halcyon days before health and safety was invented, our wall-top seats brought us within feet (it felt like inches!) of the riders’ old-style pudding bowl helmets as they passed just fingertips below us in a hundred mile an hour blur.

The history books will tell you that the 1967 TT week featured the greatest duel of all time – the titanic battle between Hailwood and Agostini in Friday afternoon’s Senior race; they will point to the fact that Mike the Bike won three races to eclipse the long-standing record of Stanley Woods; they will talk about that remarkable 108.77 mph lap – no one would go faster for eight years. For me, though, talk of the summer of 67 will always bring back the howl of that shiny silver Honda Six.


Memory added on May 29, 2021

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