1978 seems like only yesterday. The burbling rattle of a two-stroke up the drive and, late on a dark and cold winter night, Mike appears.
Strips some gear off and comes in for a cup of tea. I tell him I have a new bike and he politely comes to have a look.
When he sees my new RD400 he can hardly contain his excitement. "But does she do wheelies?"
"My can if yours can", I said. He didn't need any more encouragement and within minutes, close to midnight, we were both out on the road on our respective RD's. There was a happily manic half-hour of headlights raking the darkness before discretion overcame us.
Mike was always just a big kid - he never lost it. His funeral was the poorer for him not getting up to speak. Larger than life, and never forgotten.
R.I.P Mike