I've never even sat on a 50cc machine, and as the race draws nearer I send pathetic letters to Tony in Kettering asking him if he realizes that 6 ft. 1 in. has to be folded around a tiddler and what kind of a sadistic torturer is he?  My thinly veiled pleas to be allowed to withdraw are methodically ignored. I call Teddy Comerford, who is entering me for the Thruxton g500,h and tell him of my approaching ordeal. He invites me to lunch at the R.A.C. and instead of a steak he treats me to a couple of hours in the Turkish!!! I never will forget the sight of a member sitting stark naked in the steam room, reading 'The Times' and wearing a monocle! I stuck it out in the hottest steam room until I couldn't sweat any more. Never has a guy done to much in consideration of the burden the little machine has to carry.

Feeling a stone lighter, I set off for Norwich where I have been invited to stay overnight with friends before the race. The country has never looked more beautiful and I feel that its looking this way just because maybe I'll never see it again

I have vivid mental pictures of the pits, and the bemused crowds watching me at the start. I run three short paces bump it and the bike collapses in front of the hysterical onlookers. . . that's how it's going to be!

We split the times into 45 minute sessions. Were doing O.K., but our 60 plus mph. maximum isn't holding up to the almost incredible speeds of the premier Italian ITOMs and Motoms.

I pull over as the bike splutters asthmatically. I do a fast plug change. To my bitter disappointment I find that the gear leaver wont budge. I bump it and crawl away in top.

Machine is going well now, so I decide to do another lap and see if it'll hold up at least for my stint. Next time round, right in front of the pits it vibrates into neutral and I stop dead.

My charming pit friends signal me to walk the bike round the 2.71 mile circuit. I start to walk up the gradient, think to hell with it, manage to find top gear again, bump it – and we're of at about 10 mph, until the right hander and level ground is reached. Soon we're at peak revs and sailing along fine.

Next time round it's thumbs up, and stays that way until I bring it in for the change over. The gear selector inside had been sheered, we learn, and as no spares had arrived before the race we decided to continue with the one gear.

I managed to break the monotony of those comparatively slow, seemingly unending circuits. The upgrade to the pits becomes a mountain, and one really has to nurse the gallant little Royal Nord. But after the right hander the bike streaks happily ahead. Then I enjoy the Esses and shortly after prepare for the climes and cheerful familiar faces and thumbs-up from the pits. And so on till the end.

It was a wonderful day and what impressed me most was the genuine excitement it contained. These "50's" are something to be reckoned with, and I look forward to the next race with anticipation.