Niall Mackenzie: The Autobiography. Stuart Barker

place at Carnaby and then winning my first race the following week at Knockhill. It could have been bad for me, winning so early on, because I might have very easily gone downhill after that. But it just gave me the kind of jumpstart that I needed to know that I wanted to race and although I enjoyed the whole experience of racing because it was so much fun, for me the climax was winning. If that hadn’t been the case, I might have given it ten years or so but winning is what makes it more special, and I knew inside that I wanted it more than those types of guys who just show up and race as a hobby. I realised I was getting serious when I started pretending to the other riders that I was just there to enjoy it but deep down I wasn’t – I wanted to go further than that. I wanted to win. I also realised that I might be onto something financially because in one weekend I could make more money than I did all week working for the electricity board. I was beginning to envisage a career in racing.

      With my first racing season over, I was still working my normal job labouring with the South of Scotland Electricity Board and trying to make plans for racing in 1982. But then something happened which I didn’t expect and which upset me massively but with hindsight, it was actually good for me.

      I thought I would be able to go racing with the Rae brothers again in 1982, using their van to get to meetings. But in November we were all sitting in their garage chatting and one of them asked me what my plans were for the next season. I told him I was going to race the RD again and maybe try and get a race bike. I presumed they would let me chuck my bike in the back of their van again but they flatly refused. They said their dad didn’t want to take my bike again. They had helped me as a favour initially and I suppose I shouldn’t have just presumed they would take me but I was absolutely devastated and nearly in tears when they told me. I knew I wasn’t family or anything but at the same time, I had their garage logos on my leathers and stuff all that season so I felt I was giving something back, even if it wasn’t that much. Who knows?

      Anyway, it’s probably fair to say that my relationship with the Rae family cooled for a while after they refused to take my bike to meetings, but I certainly didn’t hold any grudges once I had gotten over the initial disappointment and we never actually fell out or anything daft. I walked home from their house that night with my tail between my legs and was very close to crying. But it all worked out for the best, as these things often do, because at some point I needed to get myself a van anyway and that was the incentive I needed to do something about it. There was no prospect of getting one at that point though, because I just didn’t have the money.

      At about the same time, my mate Craig Feeney had received compensation for his bike accident and we had already discussed the possibility of him buying me a race bike. But when his big brother Wullie heard about my transport problems he said he’d get me a van (a Bedford CF to be precise). Wullie, his mum, and his wife Marian were great supporters throughout my Career. Another brother Alan organised a sweep at work every week to raise some cash and he started bringing me back between £30 and £50 a week which was fantastic. I opened an account and paid everything in there and showed Alan the books so he knew I wasn’t spending it on anything else.

      His dad had a haulage business and he said I could use his premises to work on my bike and he also gave me some work with the firm to help make ends meet. They were all brilliant and in just a few weeks I had gone from an apparently no-hope situation to being pretty much sorted out for the coming season.

      At this point, I was also learning a lot more about how a bike works, which would later stand me in good stead. I have always had a good understanding of how mechanical things work and although I’m no engine tuner and I don’t claim to be able to set a bike up perfectly, I was learning all the time at that point. My dad was always interested in mechanical things, which helped, but I must admit I’m better with two-strokes than four-strokes. I only found out recently that the piston in a four-stroke bike goes up and down twice before it fires! Shame on me.

      For the 1982 season, I also enlisted the help of a mechanic called Graeme Bell. I met him at Knockhill and we became friends and he did a lot of work for me in ‘82 with no financial reward so I owe him a big thanks for all his help.

      I was all set to contest the Scottish 500 Production Championship again and I also had a ‘proper’ race bike as well; a Yamaha TZ250 loaned to me by Craig Feeney, complete with a spares kit, spare wheels, the lot. I also realised that I had to break out of the Scottish scene that year if my career was to progress any further. Too many talented Scottish riders get stuck in the routine of just racing at Knockhill and East Fortune. If they’re happy with that then fine, but if you want to progress, you have to take on stiffer competition in a national championship so that’s what I set out to do in 1982. Only problem was, I was diabolical whenever I raced in England. I knew I needed to be out of my depth in order to raise my game but I didn’t realise I’d have to bloody drown before I could learn to swim!

      The English circuits were so much bigger and more professional than the ones we had in Scotland but that never really overwhelmed me. However I was positively underwhelmed with my results. To begin with I was finishing anywhere between twelfth and twenty-fifth though at the time I didn’t realise that the TZ250 was crap. It was quite well prepared but it was an older model and it just didn’t run very well. It handled awfully too because I had no idea how to set it up properly so some of the blame has to rest on my shoulders.

      Back home though, I was doing pretty well and winning most of the races I entered on the RD350 and eventually I won the 500cc Scottish Production Championship. On the TZ250, I started off quite lowly but towards the end of the season I was winning races on it too. Those results reminded me that I could still actually ride after the hard lessons I had learnt while racing in England.

      So many people had told me that going to England was the wrong thing to do but you have to race with superior riders to learn how to go faster. The proof is easy to see as most British riders who have competed at world level come back home to the UK and win races and titles. Jamie Whitham, Neil Hodgson, John Reynolds and James Haydon are just a few examples.

      One of the highlights of 1982 for me was to be during another Pro-Am round at Donington Park. It was a televised race and I finished second in front of the TV cameras which was great exposure for me. That was the first time I ever saw myself on television but my mum wasn’t pleased about it, as I was actually off work for eight weeks at the time because I had crashed at Donington earlier in the year and torn my knee and couldn’t walk. When my mum turned on the TV and saw me – racing she was cringing because she thought everyone else back home would see me and not be too impressed that I was racing motorbikes when I should have been at work. And because we both worked at the electricity board she was beside herself about what our boss might say if he found out!

      Anyway, I was so excited about getting second place in a national race that I ran to the phone box at Donington’s Redgate Lodge to call my mum but someone was on the phone so I went to the lavatory while I waited. It wasn’t until I’d got my leathers off that I discovered I was sitting in the ladies’ loo. I heard women speaking and then realised there were no urinals so finally put two and two together. Very embarrassing, but I was so excited I didn’t know what I was doing.

      Throughout my career I always looked forward to seeing the TV coverage if I’d had a good race somewhere but that first time was a bit special. All the way home to Scotland in the van it was all I could think about.

      I thought that the next round of the Yamaha Pro-Am Championship could work out even better for me. It was at Knockhill and I had been waiting for a whole year to take on the Pro-Am boys on my home turf again after finishing fifth from the back of the grid in 1981. This time I won the race and it was my first national win even though the TV cameras weren’t there to record it. I suppose Knockhill must have been too far away for them. But it was enough to convince me that I could maybe challenge for the title in 1983 so I lined myself up for another full season of Pro-Am. By the end of that season, I wanted to prove I was a pro and not just another amateur.

       CHAPTER THREE No Van, Man

      As usual, the off-season during the winter of 1982-83 had thrown