MOTORSPORT: The tracks of my years

IT is early morning in the middle of the week, probably the ideal time to interview a biker.

Not that I have anything against this fraternity other than the fact that the nicknames they give themselves - Mad Dogs, Hell's Angels - don't make for an outsider's complete peace of mind.

A Boxer dog greeting us at the door is not a reassuring sight either.

But Bradley turns out to be more blithe than bruiser.

And Darren Barton - whom I really want to talk to if only Bradley would please understand and get out of the way - leaves you with the impression that he couldn't cause a fist-fight in a well-lubricated brewery room (well, almost).

Maybe it's a stereotype, but there's a tendency to see bikers as wild spirits whose aggression may not always be confined to the track.

Barton agrees that the biking community's reputation for causing carnage and mayhem is justified.

But, though he wouldn't be above causing a bit of havoc himself, it is more with mischief in mind than malice.

"Bikers are just daft lads," he says before breaking into a smile that suggests, well, aren't we all anyway.

"When I'm out on the town I like to get very drunk and I do get rowdier than usual.

"But it's all really only fun though.

"I'm not as daft as some of the lads I know. "When I was in Ireland a while back with a friend, we got hold of some moonshine.

"It was great but in the end we were throwing up for hours.

"That's just one of the silly things that bikers get up to - and they like their women as well."

The woman central to Darren's life now is mum Margaret, who will be at Donington Park tomorrow when he takes part in the first round of the British Supercup 125cc championship, riding for RCD Motorsport, a new team set up by Mark Hodgson, father of Superbikes competitor Neil.

Darren's mother worries whenever he steps on a bike.

A strong-willed, industrious woman, she can be reduced to the equivalent of a nervous wreck at the thought of her son taking corners at speeds that might flatter the Road Runner.

Time has reduced the extent of her anxiety but she will never be able to expel the quiet terror that takes hold in the build-up to a race - whether at the track or not.

When she first saw Darren crash she thought she was going to be physically sick but was so traumatised that the relevant organs didn't function. It was another crash that put paid to Darren's older brother's involvement in bike racing.

Physically, he escaped unhurt - he wasn't involved in the accident - but watching a fellow competitor perish after tumbling off his machine on a particularly dangerous stretch was soon enough to dissuade him from ever racing again.

Darren has seen his own share of frightening mishaps too.

But bikers, in every sense, are optimists, living for the rush through living fast, racing fast and competing, while blanking out the possibility of harmful repercussions.

You can't be fatalistic if you wish to pursue their dream.

Barton maintains a healthy perspective, partly due no doubt to the death last year of close friend Mick Lofthouse from Accrington who lost control of his 250cc Yamaha on a stretch of the Isle of Man circuit at Milntown, suffering fatal head injuries.

When Darren talks about it now, it is apparent that the pain has still not been eradicated.

"It was a shock to me because I know Mick real well," he began, his reference to Lofthouse in the present a poignant reminder that having shared so much of his youth with Mick, Darren is still struggling to let go.

"I used to go training with him and I raced against him.

"To hear that one of your friends has died at any time is not a good feeling but, in these circumstances, it was a big blow.

"Mick liked racing TT and that more than any other place (the Isle of Man) is really dangerous.

"There's not a lot of room for error. "I felt for him but life goes on. He enjoyed racing bikes and he died doing something he enjoyed.

"Dying while doing something you enjoy I think is far better than dying of disease or famine.

"People might not understand that but that's the way I kook at it," he said.

Darren may be different as well, in the sense that he is not addicted to speed.

Competing he says is the attraction, winning, excelling, and he professes that he could leave the sport tomorrow if his priorities changed.

"If I were to start a family I'd prefer not to take the risk, especially if I had a young child," he asserted in the coherent, unflustered manner from which he rarely deviates.

"I don't think I could carry on in that situation - which is not a judgement on those who do.

"It's just my perspective.

"Being free and single, and the only responsibility being to myself, it's okay at the minute.

"But, for instance, I've never done TT and I never would let myself do it.

"I know that if I raced there I would ride fast as well.

"Doing that I'd be risking a lot more than I do on short circuits. I have thought a lot about it because it is dangerous, we will all admit to that.

"But I do enjoy doing it.

"So to give it up, it wouldn't just be for the dangers, it would be for other things as well.

"People looking at our sport from their armchair think it looks easy but they don't get to look at what goes on behind the scenes and how much stress there actually is in a bike race. "I certainly wouldn't say that you haven't lived if you haven't experienced this.

"There's a lot more things in life that are enjoyable and thrilling as well."

For various reasons, last season for Darren became so anti-climactic that winning 50 CDs in a competition and receiving 49 by Des O'Connor one week later in the post would not be much worse.

Racing for German team Ditter Plastic in GPs, he was based in Germany from January until August when a broken wrist prematurely ended his season.

He didn't speak the language and not many on the German-speaking team could communicate with him.

An impasse developed.

He brought a friend over from England to alleviate the growing sense of isolation.

They didn't renew his contract at the end of the season.

"It was a bad experience but it can be a good one for my future because I feel I've learned from it," said Barton.

"I had to look after myself in an alien environment where I couldn't even speak to most people.

"Coming back to compete in Britain is a bit of a step back but hopefully I can do well enough this season to get back into GPs."

No less a man than former (and probably future) world superbikes champion Carl Fogarty believes he will. "Darren I know well and he has the potential to do well in Grand Prix racing," said Fogarty who expressed satisfaction at his own preparation this week for next week's second round of superbikes in Misano.

"Unfortunately, being English doesn't help - most of the top teams are based abroad.

"If he manages a top six placing in the British Grand Prix, which he's capable of doing, he might get a good offer for next season.

"But it's tough."

It is when life can seem at its toughest that Barton seeks release from it all by going trout fishing in the Lake District or retiring to the garden (like dad Stewart, he's a handy landscape gardener).

When reflecting then, he can probably see why some of us on the outside see motor sports in general as one big illusion, young men - and now women too - trying to be the next Carl Fogarty or Damon Hill when the chances are minimal.

The riches at the top don't trickle all the way down.

Competing is a struggle, Darren's mum and dad having to make much sacrifice through the years to keep their son racing and even now prizemoney of around £1,200 for the winner is offset by costs of £600 to run one bike in a meeting.

But there is nothing illusory about the potential consequences of manoeuvring a bike around tight, rolling circuits at anything up to 120 mph.

And for Darren Barton, nothing will compare to taking the chequred flag at Donington tomorrow.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.