My name is Terry Preston and from a very early age I have been mad on bikes, my bedroom walls covered in posters from the MCN; CB750, Z900, GT750, and all the other seventies superbikes. I was only waiting to start work and that shiny GT250 would be mine. I left school with not very good results but got a painting and decorating apprenticeship. My dad told me that I didn’t want a two stroke; I should get a four stroke, so a new Yamaha XS250 was ordered in maroon. I was told that I would have to wait eight weeks for delivery, which was a bummer but I called in to the showroom on my way home from work nearly every day to dream…

About this time I developed a lump on my left shin due to a sporting accident, and to cut a long and painful story short was diagnosed with bone cancer and had to have my leg amputated. You can imagine how devastated I was. I had chemo for a year and had to learn to walk again, and as it was an above the knee amputation riding a motorbike seemed out of the question.

I returned to work and a while later met Melanie, who is now my wife of 23 years. I always longed for a bike; most of my mates in their 30`s got bikes again and this really depressed me. I bought a trike which was great fun, but I still wanted a two wheeler. Then my wife came home one day and told me that she had seen a lad on an Aprilia 250 riding with one arm and one leg, with no artificial limbs but just doing it!

Right; I decided that if he can do it then so can I. But another tragedy held me back: Our nephew and great friend Craig was killed going to work on his R1 and we were devastated. It made us think carefully but with Mel’s backing I bought a 600 Hornet. I got in touch with Tony at the DMA who gave me more encouragement and advice on adaptions. I found an engineer who converted the rear brake to my gear change and fitted a rear heel brake so everything was usable. I did my CBT & had a few lessons banged in for my direct access and passed first time.

I can’t tell you what its like after all this time. Mel comes on the back with me which again was a bit scary for a while but its fine now. I go out with the lads in Runcorn quite often. At 44 it’s a new lease of life for me and worth waiting 27 years to experience. We now have a gorgeous grandson who loves his granddad’s Hornet. By my own admission I can be a bit negative but if I can do it with the support of family and friends then anyone can.

The DMA will support anyone with the desire to ride again, thanks again to Mel, Ross, Joe, all my biking mates and all the folks at The Disabled Motorcyclists Association.

”But you just don’t seem the type ”, would be the usual, incredulous reply I got, once I had divulged my secret to someone that I deemed discreet or open minded enough to trust with it.

I now found myself in the unexpected grip of an anxiety disorder, but I wasn’t that type of person, I had been a confident and outgoing sort of guy who was always the centre of attention and was always ready with a funny story. Now though, I was a shell of my former self. I’m not certain why or how it started; all I know is that it reduced me from a confident guy to a frightened agoraphobic mess in an extremely short time.

I tried the usual methods of therapy for this kind of illness; pills, counseling sessions, hypnotherapy etc, but nothing seemed to do the trick. For the first year of my illness, I didn’t really leave the house, it was a total nightmare. I improved over the next few years, leaving the house much more regularly, but would be terrified of any situation whereby I would feel trapped or out of control; such as when queuing at a supermarket checkout, or being stuck in a traffic jam. These will be very familiar scenarios to any of the surprisingly large number of people that suffer with this affliction. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to change the fact that it is still largely viewed with a stigma that only a “mental” disorder can attract.

Life, whilst improving ever so slightly each day, wasn’t anything like the quality that I had previously experienced, and I knew I had to do something about it soon, or risk the danger of the occasional dark thoughts I had becoming more and more frequent. The depressive effects of anxiety disorders are well documented.

Around this time I met a fabulous and enormously understanding girl by the name of Jess. She was so supportive that we managed to go and watch the British Superbike races at Cadwell Park on August bank holiday in 1998. I had previously raced at club level in 1991 and 1992 before my financial situation made it impossible to continue and during this time I had felt more fulfilled and content than at any other point in my life. I wondered if racing again could be the route to conquering my malady. It seemed a bit of a tall order but I was determined to achieve this goal. The only problems would be finance and where to get a bike from, given that I was petrified of traveling any great distance. This is where fate stepped in.
I turned out that my neighbour could provide me with a racebike. He had been the proud owner of a Suzuki GSXR 400 until he had crashed it in the wet, taken it to pieces after the accident and left it like that. I bought the bike off him and then rebuilt it as a racebike with the help of my friend, Lee. The only problem now was how to finance the racing. I was reluctantly receiving incapacity benefit, but this wouldn’t stretch to paying for my slightly obscure, intended form of therapy and I doubt that I would have been able to ask the NHS to pay for it either!

During the time that I had been trying to recover, I had been a regular visitor to car boot sales, and had spotted many items that I recognized from my youth, such as Sinclair Spectrum computers and all sorts of toys and handheld games. I had a computer with internet access and a friend pointed me in the direction of the online auction house Ebay, where I gradually managed to convert the items I had collected into race funds.

I decided to apply for my race licence and go on a practice day in July 2001. My girlfriend, Jess and my Mother and stepfather accompanied me as I towed the bike to Cadwell Park. My biggest fear was the thought of having to wait in the holding bay with other riders as we prepared to be let out onto the circuit. If I panicked and decided I couldn’t do it, there would be no way of turning around, I’d be stuck there and look a fool. As it turned out the practice day was being held on Friday the 13th, and with racers being a superstitious bunch, most had decided that they’d stay away for the day. This meant that there were few enough riders to allow an open pitlane, which meant that I could go out on circuit when I wanted and come back in as soon as I pleased as well. Perfect.

As I exited the holding bay, I gave my girlfriend a wink, and later discovered that my mother had been in floods of tears behind a tree somewhere, as the gravity of my achievement certainly wasn’t lost on her. As I lapped the circuit the old feelings returned and I suddenly remembered why I had been so content when I was racing in the early 90’s. This was it; this was what I needed to regain my confidence and self esteem.

The rest of the day went flawlessly, and I soon found the old form, pulling some neat wheelies over the “Mountain”. I did a couple of other practice days that year and set myself the challenge of entering a race in 2002. May the 5th was the date, the bike was ready and I even had a small team made up of a bunch of friends all kitted out in team clothing with their names on. To the casual observer, nothing would look amiss.

On the morning of the race I was extremely nervous. I paced around the paddock, not knowing if I could actually go through with it. My friends and family were incredibly supportive, reassuring me that I needn’t go out and race if I didn’t feel I could manage it. I suddenly felt an immense sense of debt to them, after all, these wonderful and generous people had given up their time to help me get this far and I wasn’t going to let them down now. “Let’s get out there and race” I said. My mechanic, Lee, looked overjoyed.

I had entered two Formula 400 races, but because of the high number of novice entries, the 400 and 600cc novice races were to be combined, with the 600’s starting at the front of the grid and the 400’s behind them. We all lined up and waited for the lights to go green. I got a decent start and concentrated on keeping my head down and going as fast as I possibly could. I was passing riders, but had no idea where I was in the race. The chequered flag came out and I was delighted as I had managed to achieve something that had seemed impossible just a short time before. When I came in, I discovered that I’d finished second out of the 400cc bikes, so I got a trophy, which was a magnificent bonus. However, as happy as I was with the second place trophy, I now badly wanted the one that said “first place” on it.

I lined up for the second race more determined than ever to stay with the guy that had won the first race. I got a much better start this time and held onto him for the first few laps as we put some distance between ourselves and the rest of the 400’s. We exchanged positions several times and on the final lap I gave it everything and managed to pull away slightly; taking the chequered flag and the win that went with it. The team was ecstatic and my Mother was in tears. I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced such emotion in my entire life, and the moment I went and collected my winner’s trophy was one that I’ll treasure forever.

The years in between that day and the present have been filled with the ups and downs that are associated with any form of motorsport, but even the bad times have helped to strengthen my character and make me a better person. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that if I had the chance to turn back the clock and never go through what I have, I wouldn’t want to. I feel that suffering the way I have has made me a much more rounded and caring individual than I ever was before. I never judge people on first impressions as I sometimes did when I was younger, and I feel that I have a great deal more empathy for others now.

I have also rehabilitated myself to the point where I can take on mainstream employment again.
Naturally, motorcycles are a hugely important part of my life, and having taken great strides towards beating my anxiety problems, I am now determined to make a career out of working with them in some form or other in the future.

Disabilities are not just physical, and I truly believe that the “disability” that I have endured is often overlooked by many, despite the large number of people who suffer with it each year. I have, however, proved that with some self determination, the support of friends and family, and of course some motorcycles, that you can beat it and come out the other side smiling.

Dave Barr was an US marine and suffered bad burns and had his right leg amputated above the knee and left leg off just below, despite this he's still got it together to establish 2 Guinness world records. He tells us a little more about his incredible journey. "I lost my limbs after driving over a land mine in Africa when I was part of the defence forces, after which I spent almost 10 months in hospital. At first I was a little upset by it but I have been a solder for most of his adult life so I guess it's just its part of the job. After my duties were over I decided to do something different so I travelled a bit my 1972 Harley, the bike has seen better days so its now in a museum. After my Dad and me extended the brake pedal, by putting some overload springs on the it so I could rest my false leg on the brake permanently and being able to use the back brake by pushing down over the strength of the overlaod spring, I set off round the world. This Journey took me to every ocean in the world. My second journey, which I did on a 1996 Harley sportster I set the world record by travelling from France across northern Europe Russia and Siberia to PACIFIC in the winter. My Second world record was to travel west to east-south-north and across the outback with the help of a lot of good Austrian people. The records still stand mainly because no one is mad enough to attempt them both and besides the records they have never been done before. Well folks that just a short look at my life, I still travel giving public speaking and try to inspire people. I have no plans for another big feat. But if funds and become avalible well one never knows . If you feel in your heart and mind that you want try riding a bike or return to it then make sure that everything is safe not only for yourself but for others, and give it a bash!"

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Mike Burnside has been riding bikes for 22 years along with fixing them and making a living from them for over 20 years, he tells us his story and how he now races sidecar despite losing a leg.

I am 40 years old and I started racing in 1991, it all went well for a few years culminating in my winning two club championships in 1993.Then I decided I wanted to go a bit faster so I bought a highly tuned Gsxr1100. I was just beginning to get to grips with what was a very hard bike to ride quickly when, in August 1994 while racing on an airfield circuit, the engine let go in a big way spewing oil everywhere. I parted company from the bike at over 160 mph and left a huge smokescreen behind me. The poor chap behind me managed to swerve far enough to miss my chest but he ran over my left leg. ough!!!!

Seven weeks later I left hospital minus a leg and with a few extra metal bits holding me together. Despite my pleadings the racing authority refused to allow me to continue racing solo (they changed their attitude some years later and now I believe they do allow monopeds to race solo) They did suggest I would be granted a licence to drive an outfit so that was better than sitting on the wrong side of the fence. I bought my first outfit from Roy Tansley who is also a bike amputee (also featured in
Kickstart 8).

I am now hooked on sidecar racing and have just bought a late LCR chassis and Gsxr1000 engines, but I am struggling to find the funds to race this year as I have recently become self employed as a mechanic and money is a bit tight, but I hope to get out a few times before the end of the season and be ready for a full scale challenge on the MRO British National Championship next year.

Lots of people asked me how I managed to deal with the psychological effect of losing a limb, my answer is very easily, I was taking part in a very dangerous sport and I accept the risks as an occupational hazard. A few trips to the rehab centre at Roehampton made me realise there are people who have physical disabilities that make my problems pale into insignificance. So if you are a bit afaired about retuning to riding or taking it up for the first time, don't be just go for it and you will just love it!

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Our worthwhile Chair, Fiona Beale began riding at an early age. She asked her parents for a bike back in 1974, but being only 3 years of age at the time she was refused. By the timeshe was 16 she had saved enough money to buy her first bike, a moped! Here she tells us her story.

After riding around on my moped for a while I got myself a dirt bike a KDX 200. At first I had problems with the kickstart I am only small, and after having the seat lowered it helped me a great deal and from then I went onto a "real" bike a CR 250. It was about then that I decided to go racing with my friends and I really got the feel for the bike. At the time I was working for an American Adventure theme park and one year they hired a stunt team to perform and when I saw it I just knew it was for me, I wanted to become a stunt rider! So it began, I joined a team as a rodie and progressed to become one of the riders and after a while I went for my first world record. It was a fire stunt where I was dragged through a long strip of burning straw, I can still feel the heat now, it was hot!

My passion for bikes and jumping was so great I wanted to go for another word record, the big one! The world distance jump. So after a couple of years on the stunt circuit travelling all over the UK, America, France and obtaining lots of sponsorship it was time to give it a go.

The year was 1996 the place was Donnington Park, the Day of Champions and I was hoping to become one of those champions. The jump took a lot of preparation, with all the safety checks needing to be correct not only for my sake but the crowds safety was also important. The day before the jump I decided to do dummy run just to make sure, bad mistake! I crashed and broke my collarbone along with a few ribs.

It took about 3 months for me to get over it and when I was in hospital I said to myself I was going back the following year and this time I would do it. The following year I took centre stage and the crowds were beginning to form and you could feel the tension building up in the atmosphere. This time there was no dummy run. The day had arrived and I had to get last years crash out of my mind and with just as many people there I was determined to do it. I took the bike for the run up to the ramp all I needed to do was to clear the 12 lorries and land on the other side. I did it, in fact I passed the ramp at the other end, how did I miss it? It was a 100 feet long. I landed on the ground and ended up crashing with me ending up in a heap on the floor. The throttle tube had split and forced my right hand off the bike and I lost control. The injuries I sustained were a couple of smashed up ribs, a broken pelvis and I broke my back in 11 places.

After several months of pain, discomfort and rehabilitation I returned to the world of stunt riding, as if I had not had enough pain! However, as the weeks went by it became increasingly difficult to perform and it was taking its toll on me, and I then had to make one of the most hardest decisions of my life, do I give up as the doctors advised me or do I carry on? I gave up because I did not know what was going to happen if I crashed again. The doctors told me that I may end up in a wheel chair, even if I had a minor accident, but hey, many of the DMA members still ride with a disability. But it was a personal thing and I still miss riding, especially when I read the remarkable stories in Kick Start. After a while a went on to take a degree in countryside management which is just as stimulating but not quite as physically demanding.

I still like to keep in contact with the motorcycling world and what better way than being the chair of the DMA. And if I had to give any advice to those who want to return to riding or maybe want to try it for the first time, it would be, think about your disability and if you have the desire then go for it.

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We meet John at last years NEC Show and like most other people we meet there and those others who have been featured in the magazine is an inspiration to us all.

I have done over 27,000 miles in five years and I first saw NIPPI seven years ago at a mobility show. I felt sure I could adapt one to suit me, which I did. My first NIPPI was a 2-stroke 50cc. Having driven at 4mph in my wheelchair all my life, hitting 20mph in the NIPPI was a bit scary. After a year I bought a new NIPPI a 125 4 stroke. This was more of a motorbike and I became more independent and became a biker.The NIPPI conventionally had the front end of a standard motor scooter. This is sometimes adapted with, a foot brake or lever accelerator, but because I cannot reach far forward and could not squeeze the brakes with my fingers, not only the normal handlebars but also all the controls were totally removed. They were replaced by a new set of handlebars closer to him. There appears to be no brakes at all - the secret is that the complete handle bar assembly is pivoted so that when I pulls it towards me the brakes come on all three wheels (similar to the old Batricar) all the other knobs and switches - lights indicators, horn starting button have been added to the new handle bar in a way that may seem "Heath Robinson" but it clearly works well; the 27,000 miles prove it.I now enjoy my self even more and I am looking forward to clocking up more miles on my Nippi and I say to anyone who has a dream not give up until you active that goal.

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As he lay in his hospital bed paralysed from the chest down, Pete Griffiths refused to accept defeat. A snapped vertebrae looked as if it would put an end to normal life but Griffiths had other ideas. "It was only hours after the accident that I started thinking about biking again, they warned me it was all over. I didn't take no for an answer".

The former lorry driver's life changed in an instant in June 1990 when a car pulled out in front of his Yamaha FZR1000 on a roundabout in Bath. He has been wheelchair bound ever since. He used to stare at his FZR after having it rebuilt and winched into his bedroom where it stood as a reminder both of his carefree days and of the moment his life changed forever. "One day..." he thought. Now, through sheer determination, untold effort, years of solid graft and £12,000 in development work, the 55 year old is back in leathers - and loving every second of it.

Five years ago, he went to a track day at Cadwell Park, Lincs, had a crowd of helpers tie his feet to the foot rests, put the bike in second gear - and completed a handful of laps. Jubilant, Griffiths made plans for a gas gearshifter and an outrigger to prop up the bike at a standstill. His first working creation - a single-sided outrigger - was encouraging but its maiden run ended in disaster when a steep road camber made it dig into the road, flicking him over the pavement and into a garden wall. Bruised but unbowed, he carried on. It took four false starts with outrigger supports and 4000 miles towing his bike to helpful engineers. Now at last, he has a system perfected. Support wheels go down on both sides of the bike, stabilising it for pulling away and stopping. Hydraulics retract the struts in less than a second. It was built by engineer Nick Larsen of Bridgwater, Somerset. "I can trickle along at up to 10 mph with the struts down, then retract them and accelerate away" said Griffiths. On a typical ride out of town I may have to lower and raise them 15 times, but I try to acticipate hazards a long way ahead. It was great to ride with my friends to a country pub and enjoy a pint. I rode the bike alongside the pub tables in the garden, parked up, staying onboard - and had a good time. I was singing out loud with the sheer exhilaration of being on a bike again".

Griffiths groans when he thinks about the cost of the conversion. But a replica could be made for about £3,500 making it a viable choice for a disabled biker compared to a trike or sidecar outfit. And he's quite prepared to help others do it - if they have the same kind of lust for life.The Bristol man takes an active interst in fishing and target shooting, he rides sit-on water skis and drives a tuned 190mph Porsche 911 sports car. "But the best thing of all is my bike" he said.

HOW DID HE DO IT?
All the controls are operated by hand. The switch for the outrigger stabilisers is on the clutch side, positioned so it can't be triggered by accident. Once activated, the stabilisers raise or lower in less than a second thanks to a hydraulic system powered by an electric pump. At full extension the outriggers spread as wide as the bike. When retracted they tuck tightly against the swingarm. The standard exhaust has been modified to make room for the stabilisers.

The rear brake is thumb operated by a lever next to the throttle twistgrip. A thumb-operated switch to activate the gear-change quickshifter is also mounted to the right handlebar.

Before the modified Blade could legally be used on the road, the bike had to be MOT tested with all the hand controls in place. With a modification to the rear brake thumb lever so it would apply extra pressure. The bike was passed. Only feeling the bike through his hands is, Griffiths admits, "a weird sensation", but it doesn't affect his balance. From about 5mph the gyroscopic effect of the wheels aids balance. He moves his upper body to help him steer. Peter was voted "Motorcyclist of the Year 2001". Well done Peter .

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