Wayne has been coming to CLASS longer than anyone in recent memory, so there's a lot of history here. One of my favorite memories was on the stormy sea tossed ferry from Liverpool to the Isle of Man. Remember Wayne? You and me and fish and chips and Guinness, which may or may not have been the brightest idea...But we stayed among the very few on board who retained their cookies...gs

Subject: Time for one of your seasoned riders to chat

Reggo me mate,

Cold, rainy winter nights are a great time to reflect, and dream, and spin slightly puffed up tales of our great motorcycle deeds inside our heads. I think this is especially true of old(er) bikers like us who, when gazing into the mirror, see wizened faces with silver hair gazing back at them. And as we reflect on past riding deeds and ponder what kind of motorcycling future lies ahead for a "mature" two wheel jockey, several options emerge. We could hang up the old leathers and take up a "safe" pastime like gardening. We could amble down to the pub and tell besotted stories about how fast a rider we used to be. Or, we could do the real thing. We could join Force 5, ride our butts off on the track as fast as we are able, hang out with other like-minded motorcyclists, and share lies and laughs over good beer at the end of the day. I know which choice appeals to me.

I've been riding bikes since I turned 17. Dropped out of college for awhile in fact so I could earn money to buy a motorcycle. I rode untutored for about 25 years without any serious incidents but did have some close calls, mostly due to lack of understanding about motorcycle control. Then one day in 1988 I read about your school and thought I'd give it a wing.

And the rest, as they say, is history. I've had more fun blasting around tracks all over the country with you in the past 20 years than any grown man could ask for. I've followed
your tailpipe around racetracks faster and safer than any old guy has a right to expect. And whether I'm riding through the streets of Berkeley, along the twisting mountain roads
of Norway, or braving Mad Sunday on the Isle of Man, the skills I've learned in CLASS have preserved my old hide more times than I can count.

Often when I'm doing a CLASSride and ripping around the track on one of my slightly overpriced Italian bikes like the MV Agusta, Tamburini or the 999R Xerox or my pretty little Flame Monster, other students will approach me in between sessions and voice their amazement that I ride such beauties under what they perceive as conditions likely to have expensive consequences. And my answer is always the same. These bikes were meant to ride fast and all my years spent in CLASS have given me the confidence and skill to go out and let it rip, even on an expensive bike, because I know that my throttle hand is under the control of my brain which has been trained by (drumroll) The Reggo!

Cheers to all and go join Force Five for the ride of your life!

Old Wayne - An F5 lifer