Little did I realize as I climbed onto the gangway of the King Orry ferry attached to the Liverpool dock that I was about to find the cure for my acute homesickness. It was midnight on a cool summer night in June 1965 and I was embarking on an adventure that changed my life. Four hours later, after a calm and merciful crossing of the infamous Irish Sea, I arrived at dawn on Douglas Bay in the Isle of Man, ready to watch my first Grand Prix, the six laps Senior TT around the legendary mountain circuit.
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