In truth, I’ve never had any great desire to visit Florida. While I’ve always been fascinated by the Louisiana Bayou, the nodding donkeys of Texas and the beat of Nashville, the palm trees of The Sunshine State have never really spoken to me. And yet, here I am at 37,000 feet staring down at another ‘plane, careering through the sky at 500mph on my way to a two-week sojourn around the southern-most state in America.
Friday is the big one: the Senior TT – the biggest prize in road racing. Idle bar banter in the Railway has led us to try a spot to the north of the island where the speeds are among the highest anywhere on the lap. We want to experience that breath-taking rush from the bikes skimming our ankles as they pass. A wise local has suggested we try the Cronk Y Voddy straight, advising us to seek out the kink part-way along for the ultimate buzz.
This means another dash to find parking and a prime view, and more mildly frustrating running around the island with packs of enduros and sports bikes swarming impatiently. Still, the opportunity to once again gun it through the derestricted zones past the spectators remains incongruous but thrilling.