Sunday 10th June 1990, 4.20pm

Afternoon all,

There have been a few posts like this in recent months and this isnt intended to be the following of a trend but whilst reflecting on things today I decided to post this nonetheless. I apologise in advance for a "heavy" post, and if you dont wish me to depress you then dont read on.

When I was 17 and 18 I used to be heavily into motorbikes and along with a big crowd of friends ranging from my age to mid twenties, we used to race like lunatics all over the island (Jersey). Our weekday evenings were filled with gathering at various locations, never causing trouble, just having a laugh. The only trouble we caused was with traffic police !! Our sundays were taken up by a regular sunday spin at 2pm.

The bikes we used to ride were not the Harley type but race replica very quick machines between 250cc and 1100cc.

Our sunday spins were good fun at the time but completely insane. An average of 30 bikes travelling in convoy racing at speeds of up to 120mph at times from one end of the island to the other (baring in mind Jersey has a 40mph limit!).

On this particular Sunday, 10th June 1990. The usual suspects were around, it was a beautiful hot day, much like it is here today and as usual the crowd set off and caused mahem on the roads.

After travelling across the island a couple of times (its only 9 miles by 5), we headed to a well known hill which is pretty much a perfect race track. About a mile and a half long with sweeping bends all the way up. For about an hour guys would head down to the bottom of the hill and race each other to the top. It was a very quiet hill with no traffic at all.

The racing came to an end with everyone having come through unscathed, and just before 4.20 we headed back down the hill towards our meeting point. No more racing now, this was just a cruise back to where we started.

Myself and a couple of others were the last to set off, and one guy who had been carrying a pillion passenger all afternoon had to head home in a different direction, so the passanger, David (DC) Prior, got onto the back of my best mates bike, Dean Hampson. I hadnt actually known Dean that long, only about a year or two, but we spent a lot of time together and had become close friends.

I distinctly remember David being unsure of getting on Dean's bike because even by our standards, Dean was a nuttter on his bike!!

Anyway, we headed off down the hill and Dean and DC must have been 10 yards in front of me as we cruised down the hill at maybe 40-50mph.

As we headed round a long right hand bend, Dean saw someone he knew walking up the hill on the other side of the road. He turned, waved but as he did so, his front wheel clipped the left hand kerb.

His bike mounted the footpath, and as this road was out in the sticks, if you imagine a country path that is well trodden and the footpath is just a thin furrow almost.

His bike ended up travelling, still at the same speed as he had not had any chance to brake, but now in this furrow and he would have been completely unable to manouvre the bike, or even brake on that surface.

About 30 - 40 yards further on, was a huge oak tree, it must be well over a hundred years old, the thing is enormous and it stood right in the way of this path.

I dont actually remember seeing them crash and all I reemember seeing was a flash of blue as his bike cartwheeled into the bushes.
I then remember seeing a mass of brake lights as everyone stopped as quickly as they could.

I got off my bike and went over to the scene. It was not a pretty sight. DC had been wearing an open face helmet and was lying on a bank 20 yards from the tree. There was blood everywhere and although no one said anything it was obvious everyone knew he was gone. His face was badly damaged.

Dean was wearing a heavy leather jacket, jeans and a full face racing helmet but he was lying completely still on the floor with his leg pointeing in a very unnatural angle. I didnt realise at the time but I immediately went into shock. I remember just not being able to compute what was going on. I had to ask who it was that had crashed, even thouigh I knew full well.

Both of them died at the scene. It was an unbelieveablly surreal few hours. At least 20 or so of us stayed at the scene, in complete silence for about 2 hours as the ambulance came and went and the police closed the road to take all their measurements etc. Deans trainer was lying in the middle of the road on its side while all this was going on and that was the picture that was on the front page the following day. This shoe lying there with the police on one side of the road and us on the other, just watching.

It was so peaceful up there and virtually every day until the funerals I spent hours up there still in a state of shock, but also very upset. It was quite strange though that straight after the funerals the place did seem to return to just being a corner on a hill. Its still incredibly tranquil up there but for a week or so it was much, much more. I am sure that is just phsycological though.

The funerals were amazing occasions. The parents of both families allowed us to pay our own tribute and a procession of well over 100 bikes followed the hearse to the church and cemetaries. Very, very moving.

I have a scrap book of all the news paper cuttings from that year and the few years after that during which the paper was still full of tributes. I look at it every now and again.

It took me a good 3 years to get over it completely and I immediately gave up biking. I remember the 10th year aniversary which hit me hard as I couldnt believe it had been so long.

Ths year to me, is quite strange too though. Dean was 17 when he died, DC was 16. This year marks 18 years since the accident which is obviously longer than either of them were alive. I am struggling to get my head around that bit as it still seems like yesterday.

If I am honest I barely knew DC but I think about my friend Dean a lot. I wish he was still around.

So, as well as my silent thoughts to them today, this is the story of their tragic accident which touched and moved almost everyone who lives here in Jersey.

Rest in peace Dean and D.C.