This is hardly an original thought, but there's something about died-in-the-wool motorcycle racers that sets them apart not just from the four-wheel boys but from just about anybody.
As this lovely film shows, Dave Roper is one of the pure characters of bike racing. A pipe welder building nuclear submarines at the Electric Boat Division of General Dynamics in Groton, Connecticut, Roper was bitten by the TT bug in 1974, a couple of years into a US club racing career. GD had posted him to the US Navy base in Holy Loch, Scotland to overhaul a sub there. Roper went over two weeks before the job started, bought a new Mk2 Norton Commando Interstate, rode it down to Liverpool and took the overnight ferry to the IOM to spectate at the Manx Grand Prix.
On the ferry he befriended two IOM regulars riding a 'bathtub' 500 Triumph and a Velo MAC and, immediately on disembarking at 6am, followed them on a lap of the course. Later that day, he did a solo lap.
"I thought I knew where I was going, but forgot that there's a kink at Ballaugh Bridge and jumped over it landing on the wrong side of the road. I had been club racing a couple of years and asked myself 'would I race here?'. My first thought was no way; it's way too dangerous. But then I thought that here I am riding an unfamiliar bike that shifts on the 'wrong' side, riding on the 'wrong' side of the road, at night, in the rain. Is that any less dangerous than racing under controlled conditions?"
Most folk would have answered 'no' to that question, but Dave Roper is not most folk. In 1984 he became the first American to win a TT, taking the Historic race on a G50 Matchless in the sort of changeable weather conditions that would have most sane men in a nice warm pub wrapping themselves around a steadying pint or five of the black stuff. "There's a sign between Kirkmichael and Rhencullen that says 'Beware of Sun', which I found terrible amusing when I first saw it," noted Roper in a 2007 interview.
I was fortunate enough to meet him at the Island in the 1980s. That Robinson Crusoe look might seem a bit wild now, but back then it was a pretty accurate indicator of a certain kind of racer, the kind of bloke who would turn up to a meeting in the shabbiest van ever, pull on the most rancid leathers ever, get onto the ricketiest looking machine ever - and then effortlessly destroy the opposition. A lot of TT sidecar racers had that look. It's all in the eyes.
Anyone who has a Crashes tab on his blogspot, featuring lines such as 'here is my final crash photo sequence, until another one comes along' is OK by us. We heartily recommend that you visit it.