Good-Bye, King of the Roads
GOOD-BYE. KING OF THE ROADS
THOUGH HIS RECORD NUMber of wins at the Isle of Man TT made him seem immortal, Irish roadracing legend Joey Dunlop met his inevitable fate on July 2 when he was killed while racing on a public-roads circuit. Few will be surprised by the news, because Dunlop had beaten the odds at racing's most lethal game for so long, they were sure to catch up with him. But what is surprising is that the tragic accident didn't occur on his beloved island.
Dunlop was the undisputed master of the TT, earning the nickname “King of the Roads” for his performance over the past quarter-century. The 48year-old father of five scoffed at those who suggested he retire, and won three out of five races during TT 2000, boosting his record to 26 wins in 98 attempts. But just three weeks later, he was dead, killed at an international race in Estonia, part of the former Soviet Union.
The 37.73-mile Isle of Man Mountain Circuit is often said to be the Mount Everest of motorcycle racing, so Dunlop’s death at a race course just onetenth that length is the equivalent of Sir Edmund Hilary
falling off a rooftop. And Dunlop was not a man
who made mistakes; in fact, at this year’s TT, the Manx Radio announcers couldn’t recall him having ever fallen off there, until a caller reminded them that he had indeed done so-once-on a 250 in the mid-’80s.
When the road finally did rise up to meet him, it was at an insignificant event he was
contesting just for fun, as a favor to the promoters. After winning the 600cc Supersport race on Saturday and the Superbike race on Sunday morning, Dunlop high-sided while running second in the wet 125 race, struck a tree and died instantly of a broken neck. The races were halted and not resumed, and the winner’s wreath was laid at the crash site.
By all accounts, Dunlop was a modest man, who preferred riding to talking, and talking to friends over talking to reporters. Which was just as well, because his thick Irish brogue was incomprehensible to anyone from across the Irish Sea. A classic example of his modesty was his trademark yellow-and-black helmet, a design that came to be when he got his first free helmet-one of those cheap polycarbonate jobs-and covered the unsightly seam down the middle with a strip of electrical tape. When Arai started sponsoring him some time later, they simply adopted the design and added a little pinstriping around
the edges. Which was fine with him. Those who worked with Dunlop said he never signed contracts, because his handshake was just as binding.
When he wasn’t racing, Dunlop ran Joey’s Bar on the railway platform of his native Ballymoney. And when he wasn’t tending bar, he took great personal satisfaction from embarking on relief missions to war-torn countries such as Romania and Bosnia, loading up his race van with food and clothes for the displaced victims. Prior to this year’s TT, he was honored with an MBE to go with his OBE, which officially made him Sir William Joseph Dunlop. Not that he would have gone by that.
Dunlop was the people’s champion, a fact confirmed by the 50,000 mourners who turned out at his funeral, making it one of the largest in Irish history. More than one account held that it had the feel of a Royal Funeral, rivaling that of the late Princess Diana.
And there was much grieving on the Isle of Man, as well, where flags flew at half-staff, and fans laid flowers at the Douglas Grandstand and pinned tributes to their fallen hero on the TT leaderboard. Even before his untimely death, plans were under way in Ballymoney for a Joey Dunlop museum and statue. It’s a shame he won’t be around for the unveiling.
Live by the sword, die by the sword, Joey Dunlop is no doubt already working on bettering Hailwood’s lap record at that great TT circuit in the sky.
Brian Catterson
