You know how you sometimes get the feeling that something’s not quite right but you just can’t put your finger on what it is?
Well that’s how I’ve been feeling since ever since I climbed out of bed, ready and refreshed to face the challenges of the day.
I’ve done my 10 minutes on the cross trainer. Now 10 minutes doesn’t sound like such a long time, but if you ever get the opportunity, give it a try.
Now imagine that you are a 75-year-old with Parkinson’s disease and try it again.
Next job is a 15 minute stint on the treadmill and just to finish things off, a few stretching exercises.
This routine, by the way, is the minimum daily challenge, and the ultimate target is to double what I am doing now.
But back to this feeling of impending doom.
I’ve had my shower, finished breakfast and switched the computer on.
First check the email, delete, reply or ignore as appropriate, and then bring up the current work in progress.
And then ‘ping’, it suddenly came to me: I knew what it was that was bothering me.
It was the Monday of practice week and the weather was perfect.
Not only that, the weather had been perfect all weekend, and, wonder of wonders the forecast for the coming week is simply ‘more of the same’.
Now we all know if you’re planning to paint the outside of the house you don’t plan to do it in practice week.
Practice week is always rubbish. Guaranteed.
And what about the Ben-my-Chree? It always breaks down in practice week. Always.
This year? No chance, the engine is as sweet as a nut. Everything is just perfect.
This is not normal. I find that I’m waiting for some sort of bad news just to restore the status quo.
During the last couple of weeks I let my mind wander back to the TTs of 50 and 60 years ago. It’s nice to remember, but as they say ‘nostalgia’s a thing of the past’.
As far as TT Week is concerned there is no comparison between then and now.
Mass tourism has gone the way of using pit ponies in coal mines and sending little boys up chimneys to keep them clean.
Look at the sheer speed of today’s bikes. Sixty years ago, the only thing that could go faster than one of the modern superbikes was a Spitfire.
And can you imagine the reaction you’d get if you could show one of the past generation of black clad heroes, a present day set of multi-coloured leathers, complete with armour and padding?
Throughout the history of the TT, the raw material, the motor bike, has changed beyond all imagination.
The developments in computer controlled technology, tyre design, and stronger, lighter components are now in motorcycle showrooms worldwide.
The machines the man in the street can buy are showcased in road races such as the TT.
But what does the future hold for the TT? The future is not seven Steam Packet ships packed to the scuppers with foot passengers. The future is in lower volume, higher value selling.
The future is in packing as much action into the time available as is humanly possible. This is why everything is so dependent on nothing going wrong.
Either with the weather or the Ben my Chree.
The manufacturers need to sell their machines, the Isle of Man needs to sell itself, and the promoters need to attract their corporate customers. The TT is a local event with a potentially unlimited worldwide television market.
But answer these questions. How much longer can this type of event carry on? Just how fast can a motorbike be made to go?
In an age where kids are not allowed to play conkers or climb trees, just how long will insurers be prepared to carry the risk? Or is the light switched on at Signpost?