Companionship and Loss
October ‘22
Martin was my closest friend. Meeting initially through work, our friendship grew ever stronger over the course of twenty years and we had much in common. Living at opposite ends of the country, we’d occasionally align work diaries to catch up in person but mostly it was our mutual love of motorcycling that offered a platform to escape, ride, laugh and explore our way across the UK & Europe whenever time allowed.
As COVID lockdown finally began to ease, the inevitable message flashed up from Norfolk - “two wheeled scamper w/c May 17th mate?”. I informed my friend that an upcoming professional milestone would make that impossible and we regretfully agreed to delay. Instead, on May 17th 2021 at home and in apparent good health, Martin’s 53 year old heart just stopped without warning and he was gone. The kind of news that you’d hope never to hear or experience. Crippling loss immediately replacing a generation of close companionship. I was asked to accompany him on his next journey, riding his bike behind a hearse to his final place of rest. At once, both the greatest honour and most profound horror of my life. Of course, for his widow and teenage son, the greatest life change imaginable continues to be seismic. All who were blessed by Martin’s love and friendship will remain in a perpetual cycle of adjustment, finding ways to co-exist with his absence.
Like many of us immersed in all aspects of our two wheeled obsession, I have been a motorcycle racing fan long enough to have witnessed incredible highs of endeavour, skill, competition, bravery and triumph but also the spectre of tragedy that haunts the sport. However, the shocking loss of Chrissy Rouse following an accident at Donington Park last Sunday feels different. The scale and breadth of tributes following the news is itself a measure of Chrissy’s impact on everyone he encountered. No-one else simply loved, lived and breathed racing bikes like Chrissy. But it runs deeper. One of the great gifts that he presented to our community away from the track was in partnership with road racer and close friend Dominic Herbertson with their weekly ‘Chasin the Racin’ podcast. The boys’ disarming, honest curiosity exposed the back story of over a hundred racing personalities both past and present. A legacy of insight and camaraderie which sets them apart and must stand the test of time. We’ve also come to understand their own motivation, challenges, dreams and ambition, forming a bond and connection which makes our collective loss that much more deeply felt.
I was fortunate enough to spend an afternoon with Chrissy at Croft in September 2017. I was returning to the race track after a prolonged and somewhat disillusioned absence and he agreed to spend a few sessions with me, coaching one-to-one. After a truly foul morning in the north east, we splashed around together for a while but as a dry line appeared he was generous with his time and feedback and my fragile confidence began to build. Famously a maths teacher by profession, Chrissy used all of his classroom prowess to help a fumbling student. He would have been barely 21 at the time but his maturity and complete lack of inflated ego surrounding his pace and skill was as astonishing as it was refreshing. I was well and truly on board the #CR69 bandwagon and was thrilled when Chrissy went on to glory, becoming BSB Superstock Champion in 2020. He leaves behind a gaping hole in the BSB paddock for fans and competitors alike.
Some might say that such tragic mis-adventure is easily avoided through reduced danger and risk. As a parent of two boys now in their twenties, I know this to be folly and where misery resides. Martin’s own fatherly philosophy was gleeful in its encouragement of experience. Chrissy’s maxim, often relayed to his podcasting partner, was to focus on the journey not the destination. These aren’t t-shirt slogans, they are the earned life experience of both young and old alike. It is tempting to claim that its hard to imagine what Dom and others close to Chrissy are now faced with but of course, for me that simply wouldn’t be true. The path of grief ahead is a companion in and of itself. One with poor manners, bad habits and dubious timing.
In seeking ways to uncover meaning and cope with my own sudden loss, in turn perhaps equipping myself to help others, I have sought common experience. Immersing myself in the memoirs of Neil Peart, the late Rush drummer who, having lost both daughter and wife in the same year, set off on a stateside journey of solitude and repair aboard his BMW. I spoke with family. Having lost her husband after a terrible illness, my cousin openly encourages frequent celebration of the departed. In essence, rather than hide and avoid discussion for fear of upset, to keep surfacing memory and recollection to preserve the spirit of those lost. This requires relentless bravery that would make a road racer flinch, as for many, the well trodden five stages of bereavement are not found to be linear or sequential but instead shifting, random and disruptive.
After some time, I began to realise that a deepening of my motorcycle compulsion (including the creation of this fanzine) had been subconsciously delivering a way for me to feel closer to my lost companion. Like hearing a song that recalls a loved one, instead experiencing a similar surge of emotion cresting a rise, encountering a particular machine or flying round a previously shared apex. The recurring theme however is a truth unfortunate for the common male mindset. To find ways to talk and share. If some of these topics strike a chord, or perhaps the loss of Chrissy has triggered a journey resembling an emotional dead end, why not seek out a friend or perhaps even a stranger with an open ear? Our more enlightened times make options like Mental Health Motorbike or Andy’s Man Club beacons of hope and repair for many.
To my knowledge, the famed author C.S. Lewis wasn’t a biker but nevertheless he left us these.
“In love, there are no safe investments”
“If you never take risks, you’ll never accomplish great things. Everyone dies but not everyone has lived”
I wish nothing but strength, hope and comfort for those experiencing loss.
