Death and glory at the Isle of Man TT

“Those who risk nothing, do nothing, achieve nothing, become nothing.” Etched into the black marble of a Bradford gravestone, these words commemorate the life and victories of David Jeffries. He was an icon of the track — a racer, a record holder, and nine-time winner of the Isle of Man TT. Aged 26, he won three TT races. Aged 29, he set the lap record, completing the TT course — all 37.73 miles of it — in a mere 17 minutes, 47 seconds. Aged 30, he died, broken upon the stone wall of 29 Woodlea Villas, a house in the Manx village of Crosby.

The Isle of Man’s Tourist Trophy (TT) is the most dangerous motor competition in the world. It has killed more than 270 of its competitors and crippled many more; since the birth of the TT, only two years have gone without fatalities. Formula 1 drivers race upon purpose-built circuits, places provided with run-off zones, safety barriers, and specialised road surfaces; the TT has none of these. Reaching top speeds of more than 200 mph, competitors hurtle through country roads, villages, towns, and up a mountain.

They must pass walls, trees, houses, and horses; spectators, furniture, telephone poles and iron railings. They must negotiate more than 200 bends and kinks to the course; blind turnings and hairpin corners; airborne jumps and fearsome plunges; corners so tight that their knees hang centimetres above the tarmac — and they do all of this knowing that if they get it wrong, if they miscalculate an angle or a turning or a bump in the road, they may die. It is a competition almost entirely run and raced by amateurs, mechanics, builders, farmers, plumbers. None do it for money; winners can expect to receive a mere £26,250. They are doing it instead for something else: the thrill of speed, of risk, and of victory; the regard of other racers, and the call of tradition.

The thrill of speed. (Don Morley/Getty)

Now finishing its 114th year, the TT is an arena of danger and glory, the subject of films, documentaries, and songs. The central event of an entire industry, it is also a testing ground and product exhibition. Generations of motorcycle builders used the TT as a benchmark, a standard against which to measure the performance of their models; companies have lived and died based upon how their vehicles performed on the track. Through the TT, we can tell a story not only of courage, meaning, and myth, but also a story of manufacturing — of Britain’s long reign as workshop to the world, and its precipitate collapse to foreign competition.

The TT was born in exception. In 1903, the British government banned motor vehicles from travelling at more than 20 mph; speed enthusiasts were obliged to look elsewhere. Possessed of its own legal system, and pleased to accept financial incentives, the Isle of Man was the perfect place in which to stage the races and trials so earnestly sought by the motor industry. The first TT was held in 1907, and — wars and pandemics aside — it has been going strong ever since. It dominates the island’s annual calendar, and is the backbone of its tourist industry. On average, 40,000 fans and 10,000 motorcycles visit the island. There are many more visitors than hotel beds; residents rent out their homes, guest bedrooms, and even their fields, charging tourists for a spot to pitch their tent. To accommodate the racing, schools have a two-week summer half term. The course itself transforms; spectator stands are erected, barriers put up, livestock fencing inspected, the road itself repaired and swept.

What is it that drives the contestants up onto the mountain? A lonely impulse of delight; a tumult on the roads. Stuart Barker, interviewing TT riders for his 2022 book Ragged Edge , found that they spoke of the thrill, the buzz, adrenaline; the feeling, as 1950 winner Geoff Duke put it, of “elation and absolute wonder of going down Bray Hill for the first time”. For some, the risk is the point; as observed by TT racer Guy Martin, “You have to take the risk to get the buzz.” For others, it is a matter of history and tradition, with brother following brother and sons following their fathers. Beside tradition, besides the thrill and the adrenaline, riders are also attracted by the magnitude and prestige of the TT, the “pure kudos” of the event, its status as the “ultimate” challenge.

To win in the TT is to participate in a century-long tradition, and to rank with and among the legends of the course. The TT’s great contests are the stuff of legend: the 1967 Senior race between Mike Hailwood and Giacomo Agostini, say, or Hailwood’s comeback some 11 years later. So too are they emblems of endurance and will. Consider the determination of Robert Dunlop, who arrived for the 1998 TT on crutches. Right arm and right leg crippled from a TT crash four years earlier, he had broken his collarbone and re-broken his leg only three weeks before the event. Not only did he join the Ultralightweight race, but he won it; victorious, he cast his crutches into the crowd.…