And then, before I’d even booked his lesson, Henry had his accident. You’ll all either know or know of Henry Hope-Frost because he too had become an indispensable part of the Goodwood furniture, and the day he died returning home from a Goodwood track day in the spring of 2018 was also the day I gave up for good the dream of learning how to ride a motorcycle. We’d both been at the Geneva show a few days before, he’d texted me suggesting we met up, but I was too damn busy and never saw him again.
But it wasn’t as a mark of respect to my friend that made decide not to ride, for Henry would have had none of that. It was the dawning realisation of the thing all those accidents that had killed, maimed or just seriously injured friends and family had in common: like Henry’s, all bar one of them had nothing to do with the bloke on the bike. Through no fault of their own they’d found themselves in situations from which there was no escape.
Today I am not anti-bike, let alone anti-biker – the very idea is laughable. I don’t know much about them these days, but still have good friends who ride regularly, are kind enough to share their passion with me by telling me all about their latest acquisition and I couldn’t be happier for them. It’s just not for me, and I now know that, finally, it never will be.
Lead image by The Enthusiast Network via Getty Images.