Endless motorbike talk can and does bore me.
I drive a motorbike, so there is the whiff of the grim reaper round every corner, especially in London.
My engineer dad is where my technical acumen comes from. I remember him taking me to the factories to see how what works. Often he used to open up his motorbike to fix things and I saw how the wheels worked. His car used to be open for dissection very regularly. All this taught me and inspired me to look beyond what I could see on the skin.
The neurologist calls it 'Non-REM parasomnia'. For the sufferer, it might mean rising in the middle of the night, getting your motorbike out, going for a ride, and waking in the morning with no memory of the experience.
I adapt my driving style more or less to anything, from go-kart to motorbike to wet, more downforce, less downforce, Pirelli, Bridgestone, Michelin, V8, V6, whatever.
I've always wanted to explore North America. I drive a motorbike and have always wanted to spend a couple of months exploring the continent on two wheels.
Speed on its own isn't always so exciting. On a racing motorbike, I can do over 180 mph, which is fast, but not as fast as the airliners that we all climb aboard to fly off on holiday. Modern passenger jets can cruise at between 500 and 600 mph, but sitting in an aeroplane like that for hours on end isn't very exciting, is it?
Short-circuit racing is full of health and safety, but the reason I ride a motorbike is because of the danger, and there is no place more dangerous than the TT.
I read mysteries like Nancy Drew and Alfred Hitchcock, and I swim and I ride my motorbike.
You have to list all your special skills on a form when you get an agent. There's fencing, stage combat, horse riding, motorbike riding, Spanish, French, German, whatever. I just ticked everything. I talk about 10 languages according to that form. I even ticked the extreme sports box.
