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If there is a racetrack in heaven it is called Spa-Francorchamps. Of that I have no doubt. The 4.3 miles of asphalt that winds its way across the hillsides and through the forests of the Ardennes is like a poem to the joys of racing motorcycles.
The lap starts with possibly the most awesome piece of road on Earth. You accelerate hard out of La Source hairpin, shifting gears and skimming the Armco through the right-hand sweeper that takes you onto the start/finish. You’re now in fifth gear, travelling downhill towards the left side of the track, but you continue your arc that takes you back to the right, towards the pit wall, as you shift into top gear. The aim (at least this was my aim when I was doing the Spa 24-hour motorcycle race) was to scare the Beejaysus out of your lap scorer, sitting stoically on the pit wall.
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