John McGuinness
The Younger Years
They say home is where the heart is. For John McGuinness that means his heart has always been in Morecambe
Coming across as normal comes easy to someone who by and large is still remarkably normal. Sure there’s the first ever 130mph lap of the TT to his name, the 132mph laps of the TT course, the points scored in 500cc Grand Prix races, the national championships won on UK short circuits, the World Supersport championship ride, the MBE and the odd Daytona 200 victory. But if you brush the lifetime of dedication to the craft and the massive success aside for a minute, John McGuinness is still very much a normal guy. Kind of…
I’m on a Gold Wing and I’m in search of the genesis of McGuinness speed. There must have been a start point, a day one, a moment in time where John and those around him realised that he had a closer relationship with motorcycle control than anyone thought. I’ve already narrowed the search down to just one place, Morecambe in Lancaster.
Unlike every other racer I know, John still lives in his hometown. The lure of Andorra or Monaco was never enough for John, “why go all that way when you’ve got this on your doorstep?” He beams as he casts his smile across Morecambe bay.
It’d be easy to say the day started at 52 Granville Road in Heysham but that would be a lie. The day actually started with a quick Go Kart race up and down the drive of John’s current home but we’ll get to that. Granville Road was John’s first home, the place he fell in love with Sam the family dog and the little Italjet 50 that Father Christmas delivered when John was three.
There’s little point repeating what John says in the video piece that you’ll find on this page so I won’t. What is worth mentioning is the power of the memories that John is recounting to me. In the alleyway behind number 52, everything is sparking memories for him. I can see a Ford S Max, a garden that needs mowing and a few solar panels on roof tops. As John surveys the same scene he can see the original cobbles from the early 70’s, can see the hole in the neighbours wall where his mum drove his dad’s van and he can point to the actual brick in the wall they thought he was heading for when he twisted a throttle for the first time and never looked back.
John wants to show me somewhere else so we jump on the bikes and head round the corner. Westgate wonders, aka King George’s playing fields. That’s what they were called when his dad decided John was ready to make the national newspapers for replicating an Evel Knievel jump. Much like the scene at Granville, I don’t want to ruin the video we put together but I think there’s something else to think about here. Remember how novel it was when phones suddenly had cameras that were half decent? Without camera phones Instagram wouldn’t exist, neither would TikTok and over half of YouTube. The ability to capture video isn’t just taken for granted nowadays, it’s an essential part of our day. Think about the kind of riding that you got up to in the 90’s that might have landed you in front of a judge if cameras were as available then as they are now. Now go back in time another 20 years to the mid 1970s and ponder how many people owned video cameras on the edge of the council estate in Lancaster that we’re stood next to. John still doesn’t know who shot the resulting video but I can see that there’s some real thought gone into it. Without sound the story still tells itself and the drama of the event is plain for everyone to see. Whoever filmed it saw that John had something about him that needed capturing forever. I’m really glad they did.
Next up is Mallowdale Avenue, less than three gears from the park on an Africa Twin (or just a decent twist of gas on the DCT Gold Wing I’m blasting tunes from). It was while he lived here that John progressed to the roads. First with a little Suzuki AP 50cc that he did his best to ruin before he’d even ridden it round the block. “I made a fibreglass tail piece for that bike in the shed on the side of the house. I think the tailunit weighed as much as the bike by the time I was finished”. The 50 made way for a TZR125, at which point I believe things got serious. John’s told me in the past about how he’d whoop all the local lads in bigger bikes on that TZR125, to the point where they were telling John McGuinness Senior that John needed to go racing before he got himself into trouble. It was the TZR that John rode over to the Island for his first laps as a rider. Mallowdale Avenue is where another important chapter in the McGuinness story began. Across the road from John’s house lived Becky Langley. If home is where the heart is, the little terraced place on Mallowdale had the lot for John. Motorbikes and his future wife, what more does a man want?
We’re back on the bikes, past the school that Tyson Fury’s kids go to and on our way to the mural wall. It’s actually on the side of a hairdressers but there’s clearly little point telling me that. Painted by London based illustrator, Ben Tallon in 2016, the mural was designed to brighten up a corner of Morecambe and bring a crowd. It certainly does that. It gives John and I a chance to reflect on 99 Isle of Man TT race starts. Each time we begin talking, a fan walks into the shot to ask for a picture or an autograph. John obliges every single time, always with a genuine smile and never once repeating a story.
John has never once shied away from meeting race fans and talking openly about pretty much anything. I saw it with my own two eyes as recently as the SuperBike race at the 2022 NW200. Leathers unzipped, bit of a sweat on but a beaming smile, he had nothing but time for selfies and signatures for the flock of fans that grabbed him in the paddock. There wasn’t a camera crew in sight, he didn’t need to spend his precious time meeting fans, he wanted to because that’s just the way he is.
It comes in part from being a huge race fan himself, anyone that’s chatted to him knows he just loves racing. Speedway, road racing, short circuit stuff and anything else that requires fuel balance and bravery catches his eye. John knows what it’s like to be a fan because he still is one at heart. Even after all these years.
We wrap things up and head for home. It doesn’t take long and I spend the ride having houses and buildings pointed out to me that John built with his own two hands. To say that he’s part of the fabric of Morecambe would be fair. To say that he’s laid the actual foundations of some of Morecambe would also be accurate.
Back at John’s house I’m told that I’m in for a treat as we take a seat in the front room and he flicks the telly on. John was right and the video of him wearing an open faced Evil Knievel lid and a worried frown is golden. I came looking for where it all started for John McGuinness, found all that and more.
When you think you know all there is to know about someone, it’s nice when they pull a rabbit out of a hat and surprise you with something new. As I sit clutching my sides and howling with laughter at old cine film of John McGuinness at his local park, being forced to jump over his school mates on a motorbike wearing little more than a track suit and a stout pair of welly boots, I can’t help but wonder how many more surprises he might have up his sleeves for us all this year.
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