Frequent Traveller (Cathy Dixon #1) (8 page)

NUERBURG, GERMANY

May 2008

Formula One Racing may have officially started in the late 1940s and the MotoGP may have had its inaugural season in 1949 but the true adrenaline rush and challenge of racing had been made popular decades earlier. In 1925, Architect Gustav Eichler envisioned the completion of a race track that would display the perfection of German automotive engineering and the best racing talent of the country, all in one place. This vision came alive two years later when the Nuerburgring Race Track was completed. It consisted of 174 bends and measured approximately thirty feet wide. It was built around the village of Nuerburg in the Eifel mountain area.

Divided into three main sections, the track consisted of the Northern Loop, the Southern Loop and the warm up area which was known as the Finish Loop. In the late 1960s when Formula One cars took on a different design and were overseen by strict professional guidelines, the Nuerburgring was deemed unsafe and eventually had its last competitive race in 1976.

The challenges and risks the Nuerburgring provided a driver led to its nickname, the Green Hell which was given by racing legend Jackie Stewart. Over time, sections of the track were demolished to reconstruct the new Grand Prix Race Track which was completed in 1984 and became known as G.P. Strecke. Eventually, with the old and new combined, the entire area is now known as the Nuerburgring Motorsports Complex.

It has a huge following amongst those who are passionate about vehicle racing. Public sessions have become popular at Nuerburgring and people are known to race all types of vehicles including bicycles. The track has also seen its share of controversy with up to ten people a year reported dead during these public sessions. May was an especially exciting month for Nuerburgring fans as the tracks stayed opened for twenty four hours on selected days.

Located just outside the Nuerburg town area, the parking lot at MoonStar Inn Nuerburg overflowed with highly modified bikes of all kinds which included Suzuki GSX-Rs, Fireblades, Ninjas and Yamaha R1s. These vehicles were parked alongside a whole host of super tourers like Hiyabusas and Kawasaki ZZR-1400s. A smaller property with contemporary design and cheaper rates, the MoonStar Inn attracted a younger group of travellers and was a much needed stop on the way to the Green Hell. On this particularly warm night, at least fifty of these enthusiasts had gathered for the barbecue which of course, included free-flow of alcohol and a live band.

Some of them had been on the road together since the group of bikers had left central London, a week earlier. Others had joined in along the way and some had met each other for the first time. All of them instantly clicked because of their passion for high speed vehicles and racing.

For Nicholas Laurie who looked far younger than his twenty-nine years, this was his third trip to the Green Hell. But this time around he had two rings on his mind. In two days, he looked forward to creating a new record at the Nuerburgring for his bike category, 250cc. The mere thrill of racing at the Green Hell would renew his childhood passion for bikes. His mother always joked that he had loved bikes even before he had started to walk. Beating the Green Hell would be a tremendous achievement, not to mention it was the perfect way to honour the memory of his late father who had shared his enthusiasm.

A lot of preparation had been poured into his potential win. But just for tonight, it was time for a little fun. As the band belted out a loud hip hop melody, Nicholas looked across the room and saw the rest of his life. She slowly walked towards him. Karen always teased that sometimes she was not sure whom he loved more, her or his bike. For more than ten years, they had stuck together through thick and thin.

The fact that they had made it thus far and wanted to keep going on as a couple was another reason for this trip. Nicholas put his hand in his pocket and felt for the little velvet box. This was the other ring which had his attention. Weeks ago, he had made arrangements for the little sapphire ring to be resized but could not find the right moment and did not have the right words to pop the big question. How does one ring give you a person's heart?

Karen was the first person he had seen when he had walked into Saint Martin's Art School all those years ago. He had been completely uncertain of what he would achieve and if he would ever finish. She had provided him direction, first when she pointed him to the orientation hall and second, when she became his best friend and helped him cope with the loss of his father.

Ironically enough, she hated bikes and it took much convincing to get her on this trip. But Karen knew the record meant the world to him and after all, what was the meaning of achievement if you had no one to share it with. Nicholas crossed the room in a few strides and stood next to Karen. He put his arm around her and held her close. Again, he realized that she was the best thing to have ever happened to him and deserved the best he could offer her.

A trip like this for Karen was literally a breath of fresh air from the daily routine of her job, as a personal assistant in a private firm. On the road together for two weeks without the urgency of getting from point A to point B, she also had the opportunity to meet new groups of people and could leisurely indulge in her favourite past time, photography. More than ten years before, she had met a dishevelled teen biker finding his way. He was forced to take a sculpting course because he had no options left. Today she saw the love of her life and the owner of a small art gallery.

Without a doubt she recognized the inner wish to spend the rest of her life with him but would he ever ask? They lived together for the most part and their daily lives twined together like any other married couple. But the white dress and the church ceremony would be a delight to share with family and friends.

Over the years, finances had been a rough road for the couple. His father losing the battle to lung cancer had taken another toll on their relationship. She refused to push him towards a responsibility he was not ready to accept, so she waited. Secretly, she hoped a proposal was in the works and was the very reason he had taken great pains to convince her to make this trip with him. It was close to 3:00 a.m. before they made it up to their room, each comforted in their thoughts of each other.

All they wanted to do was to have a long, restful sleep. By far, this was one of the better stops to Green Hell which was approximately an hour away. The bikes needed to be washed and checked before they left for their final destination the following day. Nicholas could hardly contain his excitement when they were ready to depart. A five year old on Christmas morning might have been less excited than he was. Those taking part in the practice sessions had to be at the Green Hell before 7:00 a.m. for registration and vehicle inspection. It was definitely an early morning wake-up call, for everyone.

It was customary for the associates at the MoonStar Inn to take a picture with every troop of bikers who left the property. Today was no exception. Nicholas and Karen stood among forty other bikers, he had one arm around her and the other in his pocket, fingers wrapped around the ring.

Barely thirty minutes had passed before a biker from the group was seen racing back to MoonStar Inn. Out of breath, he ran to the check-in counter and screamed for someone to call for an ambulance. He said they had been riding on the main road for no more than ten minutes when a trailer lost control and rammed into several bikers who were leading the group. The others had pulled over, doing their best to get the injured ones to the roadside. No one had reception on their mobile phones and he had sped back to the hotel to ask for help.

One of the Concierge ran to get a hotel car ready and drove the biker to the scene of the accident. When they arrived, what lay ahead appeared gruesome, to say the least. The crashed bikes were a mangled mess. The Concierge knew that if anyone survived without any significant injuries, it would be a miracle. The driver of the trailer had his head on the steering wheel. No one was certain if he had sustained any injuries but he was breathing.

Ambulances soon arrived at the scene, the police kept onlookers at bay and controlled traffic. Within hours, the associates at MoonStar Inn were busy housing the unhurt bikers involved in the crash and proceeded to keep the media as far away as they possibly could. The property was adamant that they would provide the much needed privacy for the families and friends of those involved.

When Corporate Office was informed, Cathy arrived the following day. In most cases, a private jet seemed glamorous and frivolous but at times likes these, it made the difference between an entire day of helplessness and a whole day of on-site support. Sparing no expense, MoonStar Corporate made sure MoonStar Nuerburg received all the necessary support and tools required in this time of crisis. No media statements were released until Cathy arrived and when she did, the questions were abundantly focused on the property's policy of serving alcoholic beverages to bikers who stayed at the property.

Did the hotel provide any encouragement for bikers to abstain from drinking and driving? Were there posters highlighting this? Had the bikers involved been drinking the night before? If alcohol was found in the bikers, would MoonStar take any responsibility for the accident? Would any compensation be offered to their families?

Cathy issued official statements as best as she could without pointing fingers in any particular direction. The police insisted that a thorough investigation would be conducted.

As it turned out, it was not as originally thought that only five bikers were killed in the horrific accident. Instead, it was eight bikers and six pillion riders who had lost their lives. Preliminary investigations provided strong suspicions that the trailer driver had either been draining the bottle of vodka they found by his side or had fallen asleep at the wheel. But without any official findings and concrete proof, nothing was finalised. For now, MoonStar's role was to offer support by any means they could.

The Rossmeyer room which usually catered for private luncheons and dinners was now converted into a gathering place for fellow bikers who wanted to pay their last respects to those who had passed. Arriving family members who awaited the release of their loved ones' remains also used this room to share their grief. The pictures of those who had died were placed in the front area of the room which was now filled with cards, candles and flowers.

As Cathy watched the grief struck occupants of the room, she knew that anything said or done was insignificant when compared to what these families had lost. The oldest biker who died was thirty-one year old Ben. The youngest was twenty-one year old Abe who was with his older brother Adrian.

In a corner of the room, a lone figure was kneeling, crying. Her face crumbled in pain for every rosary bead she turned in her hand. Loss was a familiar feeling to Nicholas Laurie's mother. Six years earlier, she had lost her husband and now her only child was gone. Everything she had lived for was now just a photograph in the conference room, of a hotel in another country. Grief was tearing at her heart. Cathy placed an arm on the mother's shoulder and offered the older woman a chair. She stood up and slowly reached out to hold Cathy.

"I have no one left," she sobbed. Cathy held on and motioned for her to sit down. She offered her a hot cup of tea. "No one is supposed to bury their child. He was all I lived for," she continued.

Gently, Cathy nodded and held on to Mrs. Laurie's clasped hands.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Laurie and if there is anything I can do ... please let me know what you need."

"Sit with me," the older woman said.

"Sure ... sure."

A week passed before a combined funeral service was held for those who died. Only one family had requested and made arrangements for their son's body to be flown back to Ireland. The others participated in the joint service before the bodies were cremated and taken back with each family.

On that day, Mrs. Laurie was not alone. Karen stood by her side, they needed each other. Karen had suffered a broken arm, eight broken fingers with severe cuts and bruises to her body. She had survived but was uncertain if she would ever be able to move on from such devastation. The multi-denominational service was a sombre affair with tributes given by one member from each of the bikers' families.

Mrs. Laurie sought the best words to describe her son. Her words were a testament to the loss faced by so many others in the room.

"No parent deserves the sorrow that comes with the death of their child. But if we have been blessed with their lives, then we must remember the joy they have brought us and not the loss that has shattered us. So many times, my little Nicholas thought I was teaching him a lesson but it was his passion for life that has taught me the best lessons in my life ..."

As the service ended, the two ladies went for a walk. Mrs. Laurie held Karen's hand tightly as she stopped and looked at the younger woman who had shared so much love in both the life of her son and hers. "This is the problem when we wait too long, Karen," she said.

She pushed a small object into the palms of Karen's hands.

"He had asked me for it weeks ago. It was my wedding ring and when they returned his things to me, I realised he hadn't given it to you. Hadn't even asked you. Take it, my love. If anything, you'll have something to remember him by."