Ian Burke and Eva Wintle at Taupo 2021. Photo / Supplied
High-octane sportspeople generally bow out of their chosen discipline long before their grey hairs start to mount. But for many in New Zealand's sidecar racing community, age doesn't hold them back. Katie Harris reports.
Few people know the roar and growl of a sidecar better than Steve, "Spike", Taylor.
Ripping down a race track has been what he's lived for since he first took to the bike in the 80s, and despite his ageing joints he's got no plans of giving up.
A racing sidecar is not like its commercial counterpart. Instead of a little seat adjacent to the motorcycle driver, the passenger, "swinger", on the side lies in a prone position, assisting the driver around the bends of the track.
Racers describe it as an addiction, and Taylor has been hooked ever since he first rode a motorbike at 17.
Taylor, who won't disclose his age because he "stopped counting" at 53, made his debut at Wanganui's Cemetery Circuit in 1986.
"There were a lot of superstars to us out there and [we were] just being in awe on the grid. We got lapped twice the Wanganui. But we couldn't be happier."
Drivers and swingers have a symbiotic relationship, each forced to trust each other completely with their lives as one wrong move could cost them everything.
"The sheer closeness to the ground. The speeds that you're going on, and here you are just sitting out there in the wind with your head basically up above this little missile, and you're zooming around as fast as you can go."
They don't have seatbelts, there's no safety cage separating them from the road, no soft landing if they take a turn too hard - but this is what he says makes it "awesome".
For true subscribers the thrill comes at a cost; broken bones, machines, and life threatening injuries are a part of the job.
"The main one [crash] I had was in Taupo in 1994, and It was the first race of the season and I crashed on the last lap. I smashed into the trees probably doing about 100 miles per hour."
People thought he was dead.
"I still have problems from that accident today and those problems sort of get affected when you ride the sidecar. But, hey, you gotta ride the sidecar."
Unperturbed Taylor continued racing, taking out multiple champion titles, and more injuries, along the way.
Speed wobbles hit his racing career hard in 2004 after he had a few issues with his bike and began "looking everywhere" thinking he was going to crash.
"I've retired probably about five times. And then you're back the next season. You get knocked out and off, and then [you're] back next season."
Maybe they're crazy for not retiring from the sport, he wonders, but we're all going to die anyway Taylor says, so everyone's working to a deadline.
"With the two-wheel racer, you don't normally get a lot of people at the front end of the field that are over 50, but in Sidecar racing we just about all are."
His love for the sport has been inherited by his son and stepdaughter, who are both now into Sidecar racing.
While they share his interest, Taylor says they do worry for his safety as he gets on in years but they fully understand the risks.
"I know it's scary because I've been at tracks where people have passed away and things like that and close to me as well. And it's, it is a scary time."
For him though it's not just about competition, it's like a family, a community of Kiwis who share a tight bond.
"Being in the pits hanging out, it's part of a bigger picture, the travelling with the family, your friends, the time you spend, you know that's what brings you back to it. You always go to the track to win, but realistically most of the time it's hard to win."
Regardless of your place, he says you always come away with a smile.
New Zealand Sidecar Racing Association president Ian Burke has a similar relationship with the sport.
At 67, an age where many Kiwis start to slow down, Burke still takes to the track.
Although he's reached retirement age, he still works as a team manager at Fonterra, largely, he says, due to the cost of racing.
"I can't wait for the season to start."
He started in 1976 and while he has taken some stints off over the years, the allure of racing always pulls him back.
"The thrill of going fast, and probably pitting yourself against yourself. As you get older you struggle to probably compete against the younger riders."
Burke's had motorcycle injuries, but that hasn't put him off, and instead he's modified his Sidecar to suit him.
"I have electric gear shift on, that works because one of my legs doesn't quite function like it normally would when I was younger."
As a rider, he says you're responsible for someone else's safety as well, so before each race starts he feels anxious.
"Once the lights change it goes from you, and you never think about you know, I've flipped my Sidecar and thrown my passenger down the road. But I never think about that when I get back on and [on to] the next race."
His theory on why Sidecar racers tend to be older is because they are usually slightly "different".
In the early days, Burke says sidecars were "looked down upon" by other motorcycle competitors, which he believes made them more radical and staunch than other racers.
"Sidecar racers tend to be quite social, everyone knows each other. We don't see each other probably so much as competitors, but as friends that do the same [thing].
"I look at it like, I'd help anyone with a Sidecar trying to get on the track, whether they were faster than me or not. And I think they would help me."
Chris Lawrence also feels unable to quit.
Despite being mostly retired from his day job, the 58-year-old still takes to the track with his swinger brother each year without fail.
"I've retired from the Isle of Man, I'm not going back there again, it's too hard on the body so 2017 was the last time I went there. Took me about four or five months to recover."
Lawrence has taken out the National Championship twice, the Isle of Man cup champs once, and came second in the Australia Sidecar Championships.
He too believes racing isn't just about winning, and says they don't get any money, but they do have a community that's always eager to lend a hand.
The real reason he can't stay away is the adrenaline. "I do it for the thrill, it's pretty cool having all that horsepower behind you".
When Lawrence has the helmet on, his wife says he's a different person, losing his mellow demeanour and admittedly becoming "more agro".
"It's pretty hard for the wife. Especially the Isle of Man because you're gone for 20 minutes a lap. So they don't see you for 20 minutes... So that's a big worry for them because there's always people getting killed there."
This wasn't helped when one race at the Isle of Man ended in a helicopter trip to hospital.
Still, he doesn't get scared, even though he's lost friends in the sport.
"You've got to have a lot of trust in your passenger. And so me and my brother doing it together for all these years we've got a lot of trust in each other. So I can chuck into a corner and know he'll be in the right place."
Over the years he too has noticed the race field aging, and he says this happens in other parts of the world.
At the same time, the racer notes that even if one year the numbers are down, they're often back to 20 bikes competing the following year.
Although he's had some serious crashes and injuries, he's yet to wave the white flag on his racing career.
"I say every year that this could be the last year or next year could be the last year, but I don't know.