One of my duties at work is what's known as Human Remains, or "Hum Rems." This is connected with the death abroad of anybody who is returning to the country to be interred. It's essentially a paperwork task for the Coroner.
Today I had to deal with the late Gary Firth from Barnsley. This gentleman had a motorcycle crash on the Isle of Man and was 51 at the time of his death. He was actually taking part in the Manx Senior GP at the time and crashed during the race.
It occurred to me after the headlines of Rooney and others earning up to £300,000 a week, and the trials and tribulations of Hamilton and Rosberg and their motorhomes that cost more than Gary would have earned in a year. He was a self-employed plumber who would (as would most of his ilk) have spent his own money on his bike and travelling expenses. He would have worked on it at night or at the weekend in his garage just for whatever he got out out of riding the TT course. Personally, I wouldn't like to go round it in the Panda.
People like Gary are, whether we are talking cars or bikes, the grass roots of motor sport. They are the ones who keep it going and turn up at Croft or Darley Moor when it's cold and raining. They're the ones who have their wives and girlfriends in a caravan keeping up a steady supply of tea, coffee and bacon sandwhiches. They are the lifeblood; the grass roots of our sport.
God bless you Gary. I didn't know you, but for what you and countless others do every weekend at Snetterton, Croft, Cadwell Park, Oulton Park and Anglesey, thank you.
R.I.P. Gary and when you get to heaven, keep it pinned and keep it shiny side up.
