HOW CROZ CREATED A STORM
34 IT’S 1977. My mate Bev and I are sat, legs dangling over a wall overlooking the pit lane at Le Mans just before early practice kicks off the Bol d’Or. The pit lane is busy –a cacophony of noise with people out-shouting each other as, one by one, bikes are being fired up. The air is filled with excitement and expectancy of a great weekend. But in a split second all that noise is drowned out and people scatter. All we can hear is a bike at full bore coming down the pit lane. Conversations stop. Eyes crane left. And there is this guy, with Bel Ray emblazoned on the chest of his leathers, on a Kawasaki with high bars, no fairing, howling flat-out down the pit lane –…