"Make
Haste Slowly"
A Story of Courage, Disappointment
and Reward
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Make Haste, Slowly
is a 370 page saga set on the Continental Circus
of European racing from 1960 to 1967. It is a race
by race chronicle of Canada's foremost Grand Prix
rider, Mike Duff. Mike rose through the ranks as
a struggling private rider on British short circuit
racing riding privately owned 350 AJS 7R and 500
G50 Matchless machines to compete as a factory contracted
Team Yamaha rider. He never won a world championship,
nor an Isle of Man TT, but he rode some of the most
exotic racing machinery ever built on glamorous
race courses that are but names in a book to most.
He mixed it with the best of the time and often
emerged victorious. Share these experiences in detail
from the perspective of his seat aboard a "works"
Yamaha RD56 or RA97, a Matchless G50 or 7R AJS,
or the legendary AJS Porcupine.
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Included in the book is an 8 page centre
gallery of unpublished colour photographs. Each photo
or page of photos is a story unto its own. Read and
enjoy the delighful detail of the Isle of Man Weigh-In,
or marvel at the required knowledge of the Isle of Man
TT course necessary to finish in the top half dozen
places. Ever heard of a G50 CSR???
Make Haste, Slowly is a book about Canadian
Mike Duff, a rider with a degree of natural ability
who accomplished more than any other Canadian before
or since on the motorcycle Grand Prix circuits of Europe
between 1960 and 1967. He came from humble beginnings
learning his craft on abandoned airport circuits near
his home in Toronto, coming to England in 1960 and rising
through the ranks of British short circuit racing to
ride for the Yamaha factory team in 1964, 1965 and 1966.
In 1984, Michael Alan Duff began an
emotionally trying and frequently painful change that
took over four years of concentrated study and practice
to bridge the little known void between masculinity
and femininity. He is now living and working as a woman
having taken the name Michelle Ann Duff.
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Serial
No 
A Story to Warm the Hearts
of Youngster of all Ages
This Book is Written for 6 to 8 Year Olds, but
can be Enjoyed by Kids of all Ages.
"Hey!"
said 6218, once his engine had been run in. "This
Broad can Ride."
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Serial Number 6218 is
a true story about Michelle's personal motorycle, from
the motorcycle's point of view. The story is based totally
on fact, and an abundance of imagination. The last four
digits of the actual serial number of Michelle's FZR
600 Yamaha, are 6218.
Back in her youth, Michelle saw
a cartoon at the movies that showed the conversion of
a Model "A" Ford into a hotrod, and transformed
the sad, used Ford, into a happy, spiritied automobile
once again. Since then, Michelle has believed that all
things mechanical have animation, feelings, and personal
goals, especially cars and motorcycles.
The model that 6218 is, was made
in his year of manufacture more as a racing motorycle
for production machine racing than as a road bike. Rules
dictated that the model must be street legal to qualify
for production class racing. Most models like 6218,
were sold for racing, and few actually saw use on the
street.
And, so it was when Michelle
first bought 6218, she was riding out on the bus to
collect him from the dealership, and she thought how
annoyed he was going to be when he found out that he
was going to be just another road bike, and not an important
racing motorcycle. And, to make matters worse, he was
going to be ridden by a WOMAN, and not a race rider.
In Michelle's mind, the story grew from their first
ride together to the growing respect and love they developed
for each other, to the moving end to this chapter in
6218's life.
"Hey, man.
You must be sold," said the Honda next to 6218
on the dealership floor. "You have a license plate
bolted to your rear fender."
"A license
plate," declared 6218. "No that can't be.
Racing motorcycles don't need a license plate. There
must be some mistake.
If I'm just going
to be a road bike, I'll never be a world champion, or
a grand prix winner. Oh dear!"
But sure enough,
when 6218 looked behind, there WAS a license plated
bolted to his rear fender.
"I'm never
going to be famous." A great sadness came over
him..
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