City Bus Driver

Four nights in Portrush for the NW200: superbikes at 200mph, luxury digs, Guinness by the gallon, a naked man unknowingly wearing a sock as a thong, and a near-disaster involving a flying D-lock bag on the ride home. Road racing was only half the story. There are holidays designed for relaxation. Spa weekends. Quiet cottages. Little countryside retreats involving herbal tea and conversations about scented candles. Then there’s the annual migration to the North West 200 in Portrush,  where thousands of people gather beside ordinary public roads to watch motorcycles attempt to punch holes through reality at 200mph. Naturally, that sounded far more appropriate. So four of us headed across the water for a four-night stay on the North Coast, armed with questionable planning, race-week optimism, and enough overnight bags to suggest we’d misunderstood the concept of “travelling light.” And somehow, against all odds, it became one of those trips you immediately know you’ll still be...