russ stanley on his harris gs1000, red frame, dymag three spokes, brembo's, white bell star-2 helmet, leather jacket, levi's and white hi-tops, oh yeah, an xs1100 headlight too, i can remember seeing russ and his wife julie at matlock, darley moor, donington and all the biker pubs like the telegraph, silk mill and seven stars, his bikes were always immaculate, he used to check out my bike and i used to check out his, we would nod an acknowledgement of a job well done but never speak to each other, that was to change when we lined up at long marston, [shakespear county raceway, or the home of the bulldog bash as it's now known], of all the people for me to be drawn against it's only the coolest kid in school, i get my favoured left lane, we both do a big smoky burn-out, lights go out and i catch him out of the corner of my eye, he's almost vertical on the short wheelbased harris, trying to keep the front end down, i'm hanging over the front end keeping my weight forward and my standard length gs is the tool for the job, i'm through the timing lights first and turn to look back at russ, he catches me on the return road, i look into his black visor, he looks into mine and he offers his hand, we were firm friends from that moment on, we used to watch endless replays of joey dunlop in the 'roadracers' vhs video, 'v for victory' the tt on board classic and our favourite 'fast freddie' where spencer takes on aldana, pietri and lawson on the massive horsepower but poor handling production based superbikes, we built bikes together, laughed 'til we cried and russ introduced me to the joy's of chilli, i never realised food could taste so good, i will never forget the day julie phoned me to tell me russ had been killed on his bike on his way home from work. 'put that shannon record on youth, 'let the music play', i'm goin' to do some of that break dancing, where's me fucking inhaler!...........'
russ stanley on his harris gs1000, red frame, dymag three spokes, brembo's, white bell star-2 helmet, leather jacket, levi's and white hi-tops, oh yeah, an xs1100 headlight too, i can remember seeing russ and his wife julie at matlock, darley moor, donington and all the biker pubs like the telegraph, silk mill and seven stars, his bikes were always immaculate, he used to check out my bike and i used to check out his, we would nod an acknowledgement of a job well done but never speak to each other, that was to change when we lined up at long marston, [shakespear county raceway, or the home of the bulldog bash as it's now known], of all the people for me to be drawn against it's only the coolest kid in school, i get my favoured left lane, we both do a big smoky burn-out, lights go out and i catch him out of the corner of my eye, he's almost vertical on the short wheelbased harris, trying to keep the front end down, i'm hanging over the front end keeping my weight forward and my standard length gs is the tool for the job, i'm through the timing lights first and turn to look back at russ, he catches me on the return road, i look into his black visor, he looks into mine and he offers his hand, we were firm friends from that moment on, we used to watch endless replays of joey dunlop in the 'roadracers' vhs video, 'v for victory' the tt on board classic and our favourite 'fast freddie' where spencer takes on aldana, pietri and lawson on the massive horsepower but poor handling production based superbikes, we built bikes together, laughed 'til we cried and russ introduced me to the joy's of chilli, i never realised food could taste so good, i will never forget the day julie phoned me to tell me russ had been killed on his bike on his way home from work. 'put that shannon record on youth, 'let the music play', i'm goin' to do some of that break dancing, where's me fucking inhaler!...........'
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