I’ve never been swarmed by thousands of angry bees, but I guess this must be what it’s like. A brief glance in my rear-view mirror tells a scary tale. They’re everywhere. I look at the speedometer. It reads 130 mph – on a treacherous mountain pass, no less. Speed limits? There are none. This is “Mad Sunday” during the Isle of Man TT. A time for mere mortals to venture onto the 37.7-mile course, likely hung-over, aboard two-wheeled missiles capable of 200 mph. It’s fun to pretend you’re John McGuiness or Joey Dunlop, at least for the day. But for me, rocketing down the country lane in my dad’s two-seater sports car – with hedges, trees and quaint Manx pubs blurred beyond recognition – it’s bloody terrifying.
A group of six or seven bikers fly past … Pictures and more