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My day in the pits at the hillclimb starts at 5.30am when I crawl out of my swag and head up to Marine Drive to help set up the start line. Extra helpers from entrants made it quicker this year, so we started getting riders organized and into place, while hanging out for a coffee and food. Thanks to the ladies manning BBQ for the egg and bacon roll.
Riders' briefing at 7.15, so chase up riders and listen to Steve read out the riot act. Trying to get all riders to start bikes and ride up the hill in one group is near-impossible. There’s always about 6 still asleep and dragging their feet, till I yell at them.
Up the hill they go, and bad luck no 17 you’re too slow.
Steve clears track and they all return ready for 2 timing runs. Ambos arrive and Firies are in place on schedule for an 8am start.
Andy in the van waffling to nobody in particular, Brendon on the flag,
wheel-chockers in place, and off the first two go.
Damn, forgot the ear plugs. Luckily John Mac had a spare set as it's
really loud standing behind 30 revving bikes.
Luckily the sun wasn’t out too much, as one gets very hot standing on
the bitumen all day and occasionally having to push-start a bike. I’m
sure I walked 30km.
The first run is always unorganized as the riders work out who, what and how. Even get the odd bloke munching on a burger when he should be on his bike. Then they all get better at being up to line on time.
Keep them moving, constantly looking for missing riders, who had a
breakdown or just disappeared.
Half hour for a lunch break gone before you know and getting through the
program in great time. 2.45pm
and finished.
Quickly start dismantling everything, award prizes and retire to caravan
for a well-earned beer and put my feet up. Have dinner and back to tent
to pass out. The Grumpy Old Man.