Speedway, Summer & Spritz

15 hours ago

14 min read

Wow.

It’s been a minute.

And apparently it’s been WAY too long since the last blog because even Chris has started nagging me about when I’m going to write another one.

So, what have you missed?

There’s been racing — obviously. Hospitals. Italy. World medals. British grasstrack titles. More airports and motorway miles than I care to count. A six-year-old finding his feet (quite literally) on another bike, one very emotional Mum, and enough general Harris-family chaos to fill several blogs.

Grab yourself a cuppa or a glass of fizz and get comfy… summer edition, in true Love, Life and Kevlars style .....

Cruz’s little racing adventure has continued to grow this summer. What started with simply getting him out there on his debut and letting him enjoy himself has somehow turned into five FGA wins on the bounce, five full maximums and a couple of other meetings squeezed in along the way too.

I know I’m his Mum, so obviously I’m going to be proud of him, but honestly, watching his confidence grow this year has probably been one of my favourite things.

I managed to escape FGA Round 3, which was his 2nd ever meeting — I had the perfect excuse not to go, with a trip to the CBS Arena with Chivsy, Katie and co to see Take That.

Probably not a bad thing, it gave me something else to concentrate on instead of constantly checking how Cruz was getting on whilst my stomach swirls like a washing machine.

Round 4 tested that confidence a little more than we’d planned. He had a pretty big crash in practice. (Which of course was only going to happen when I had to take Cruz to the meeting on my own, which immediately made the whole thing approximately a million times worse).

After what felt like forever, he got up and made his way back to me in the pits. I checked him over and asked if he was ok and he told me he didn’t want to go back out and that he wanted to go home.

Before he finished the sentence in my head i was already packing up ready to go home with a small sigh of relief that i didn't have to hide in the van for 7 races with my stomach in knots.

Then he asked if he could speak to Dad. So we rang Chris and, rather than telling him how much it had hurt, Cruz’s opening line was:

'Dad, did you see my crash? It was good, wasn’t it?'

And then next thing i know, Cruz went back out for his second practice and then proceeded to win all four of his races, another maximum and another number 1 step on the podium.

He's definitely a Harris that's for sure.

Cruz has carried on doing his mascot duties at Glasgow and King’s Lynn too which he loves, which brought us another one of those little moments I know I’ll remember forever.

During one of the KL home meetings, which was live on BSN, somebody wrote in asking when Cruz was going to be interviewed. Next thing I knew, he was in the commentary booth having his very first interview — whilst proudly sitting in his Dad’s arms.

There was something about seeing the two of them together that got me. One of those tiny moments that probably meant absolutely nothing to anybody else watching, but meant everything to me. Someone, pass me the tissues ...

Mia-Faye is absolutely thriving with her apprenticeship. She’s now properly in ratio, has passed her paediatric first aid and, as if that wasn’t enough, she passed her driving theory test first time too.

Her driving lessons are going really well, so I have a feeling her actual driving test is going to creep up on me far quicker than I’m ready for.

She’s also reached that age where suddenly there are conversations about what comes next. Midwifery. Nursing. Cabin crew. Travelling. Which feels both incredibly exciting and completely unacceptable because I’m fairly sure she was about six five minutes ago.

As for Amara-Mae, she's still smiling her way through life. She's forever singing and dancing, and keeping us entertained. Most evenings, her bedroom sounds like a mini disco, with music blasting and impromptu performances underway. Her love of music is nearly as big as mine, and i love that...

And somewhere amongst it all, me and Chris even managed a proper date day.

Just us.

We took the camper to the Cotswolds, had breakfast at Daylesford, wandered around looking at garden bits we absolutely did not need, went for a walk and finished with ice cream.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing fancy. Just us.

Amara-Mae and Cruz finished the school year on such a high. Amazing school reports, Cruz getting a shining Star award, Amara-Mae crowned Dojo Champion.

Sometimes amongst all the racing and travelling and chaos, it’s those completely normal little school moments that get me the most.

And then summer properly began ....

We had Chris's sister Carla, Simon, Poppy and Jowan come to stay for a long weekend where we squeezed in some park fun, pool fun, and some theme park rides.

Then came Italy.

We headed back to stay with our friends near Terenzano — Giuliano, Cara, Elio, and Gea and, honestly, that little corner of Italy is starting to feel like another home.

Friday was water-park day. And it was so, so hot - now anyone who knows me knows i absolutely love the heat — but even I was grateful for those pools just to try and cool down.

The kids absolutely loved it. Although I say kids… Chris was probably the biggest kid of them all. Slides, pools, messing around with the kids — I’m not entirely sure who was having the best time. And somehow, even at a water park in Italy, Chris still managed to get recognised by speedway fans. Because apparently there is nowhere on earth I can take that man where somebody won’t know who he is.

Friday evening our friends were hosting a party for us, and before it started we had a look around the wine cellar.

Cara suggested we all climb onto the wine kegs for a photo. Now, at 5'1", I needed a little assistance getting up there, so I spotted a wooden crate and thought I'd use that to help me climb up. What could possibly go wrong?

The moment I stood on it, my foot went straight through.

Honestly, it could only happen to me.

To make matters worse, it was my already dodgy foot. Luckily, after a brief rescue mission, we got it sorted without needing any further medical attention.

The sparkling wine that followed definitely helped with the pain relief... and my wounded pride.

A special evening followed with the party for us at the agriturismo, and honestly, they absolutely spoilt us.

Amazing food. Amazing wine from their vineyard. Everyone sitting outside together eating, drinking, talking and laughing, It was one of those proper Italian evenings that you wish you could bottle up and bring home with you.

One of those nights that makes you realise how lucky we’ve been that this crazy speedway life has brought people into our lives who have become proper friends.

Then Saturday arrived - race day.

The SGP Challenge Final at Terenzano.

And honestly, the result ended up being only a tiny part of what I remember about that day.

From the moment we got there, the support for Chris was quite overwhelming. Riders. Officials. Promoters. Fans. Handshakes. Hugs. Photos. People stopping him to talk.

And I think sometimes I forget that side of it.

Because to me, Chris is just Chris - He’s Dad. He’s the person I nag because he’s forgotten something he was supposed to pack. He’s the one whose laundry appears in ridiculous quantities and whose bikes seem to multiply when I’m not looking.

I’ve lived the injuries, the travelling, the disappointments, the comebacks and everything in between alongside him for the last 16 years. So sometimes it takes standing back and seeing him through other people’s eyes to remind me just how much respect there is for him within this sport, even if he doesn't realise it himself.

Cruz, meanwhile, was absolutely in his element. He wandered around the pits chatting to people, had a catch-up with Paco and then Robert Lambert had a chat with him and told him he’d been following his grasstrack.

You can imagine Cruz’s little face.

Six years old, wandering around a World Championship meeting having conversations with riders he watches on television as though this is all completely normal.

Which, to him, I suppose it probably is.

Then we headed into the stand to watch, where we sat with our Italian friends.

The racing itself didn’t quite go the way he wanted. He finished eighth with seven points.

But then he went out and won his final race, and that’s when we had one of those moments.

Chris came over towards the stand and everyone was on their feet. Our friends were literally jumping up and down, people were cheering, hugging us, and suddenly it felt less like we were hundreds of miles from home and more like we were surrounded by family.

I just took a moment to take it all in.

Chris hadn’t won the meeting. But honestly, you wouldn’t have known it from the reception he got, and I think that’s what I’ll remember most about Terenzano.

That moment.

Sometimes there’s so much more to a race meeting than the result written at the bottom of a scorecard, and that was definitely one of those times.

And then Sunday arrived, we took a trip to Venice.

So we piled into our little hire car — a Fiat, obviously — much to Cruz’s disappointment, who had assumed that being in Italy meant we’d be hiring a Ferrari, and off we went.

We spent the day wandering around seeing the sights, taking everything in, with a gondola ride to complete the day trip.

Venice gave us beautiful views, unforgettable memories, and me a new obsession: Morello Cherry ice cream. As a non-ice-cream lover, I'd happily eat it every day of the week. Safe to say I've been converted.

It was just one of those really lovely days. No racing, no rushing to an airport, no trying to work out where somebody’s race suit was, until the evening of course, when in fact Chris did have to leave for the airport, whilst me and the kids stayed on in Italy for a little longer.

Monday evening was spent outside at the agriturismo, good food, Hugo Spritz and the iPad set up to watch Chris racing back home. While our group was already engrossed in the racing, more and more people stopped to ask what we were watching, before joining us in cheering Chris on as he shone on the Northampton shale for Kings Lynn.

We’ve been lucky enough to visit that part of Italy before, but every time we go back we seem to come home loving it a little bit more, and apparently Mia-Faye feels the same because she’s already talking about possibly spending a few months out there next summer.

I’m pretending I’m completely fine with this ...

Back home, summer carried on in that slightly chaotic way ours always seems to.

Me and the kids took a trip down to Cornwall to see my parents where sunset chasing was top of the list. There has been fruit picking, theme parks, and very few lazy days.

And it was HOT.

Proper summer hot. Hours spent outside, hours of fun in the sun and probably even more hours in the pool. Honestly, I think the kids would have happily lived in there all summer if we’d let them.

Chris’s mum came to stay, then my Mum and Dad came to us for a week too, it felt like one of those summers where there was always somebody around, somewhere to go or something happening — busy, slightly chaotic, but actually really lovely too.

And believe it or not, we even managed another little date later in the summer too — dinner at The Orange Tree.

Two dates in one summer.

Then came August 14th.

Amara-Mae’s turn. After seven years of fighting, appointments, referrals, waiting and knowing something just wasn’t right, she finally had a last minute operation to remove her tonsils and adenoids.

She had been living with Grade 3 tonsils and a 75% airway obstruction for so long. Add in 38 bouts of tonsillitis and her other medical challenges, and it's hard to comprehend how much she has endured. Yet despite it all, she still smiled, got on with life, and never let it stop her being herself.

Seventy-five per cent.

Even now, writing that makes me feel slightly sick.

The surgery itself went to plan, The induction didn’t.

Her oxygen levels and observations dropped and, for a few moments, it was scary.

Really scary.

And because Harris family timing is impeccable, Chris was racing in Glasgow that night. So while he was hundreds of miles away doing his job, I was in hospital with our little girl trying very hard to keep myself together.

Recovery wasn’t easy either. There were some really rough days, and I am genuinely still traumatised.

Her medical journey unfortunately isn't over yet, but hoping finally we are making some progress.

Meanwhile, because apparently one dramatic thing at a time would be far too straightforward, Chris’s season carried on at its usual ridiculous pace.

The British Final came next. His 25th consecutive British Final.

Beforehand, he managed to watch Cruz for a few hours at his FGA meeting that our friends took him too, whilst i was home looking after Amara-Mae.

It happened to be Chris's eighth meeting in nine days, which probably tells you everything you need to know about what life looks like in our house during the season.

Then there was Scheeßel for the Long Track. He made it through the Last Chance and finished third in the final and another World Championship podium.

Then came Plymouth.

During Heat Nine, Chris was involved in an incident with a Plymouth rider after the race was complete.

We'd been sat directly in front and saw the whole thing unfold, and rightly Chris denied the allegation that later emerged, and the SCB reviewed additional camera footage and confirmed his version of events was correct, with no further action taken and cleared his name.

Interestingly, the allegation only surfaced a few heats later after another angle of the incident appeared online. Make of that what you will....

We quickly moved on to August 28th, Meeting number 1,200. Redcar v Glasgow

Chris became the first rider to reach 1,200 official British league meetings since league racing began in 1929.

His first was for the St Austell Gulls in 1998, age 15.

Twenty-eight years later, he was lining up for number 1,200 (and that doesn't even include guest bookings).

Sometimes even I have to stop and take that in.

I’ve lived alongside this career for 16 years and I’m probably guilty of getting used to the ridiculousness of it all. The travelling. The injuries. The bikes. But every now and again, something happens that makes you stop and realise just how extraordinary his career actually is. And 1,200 was one of those moments.

Then, because nothing is ever straightforward, it was Aduard for the European Final.

A mad dash from Redcar to London Stansted, only to discover his flight had been cancelled. Cue a frantic rebooking, a race across to Heathrow, a delayed arrival into Amsterdam thanks to baggage issues, and then another mad rush to the track.

Chris had been in touch with the ACU rep throughout the day, but after all that, he arrived around 14 minutes too late. Because he hadn't been signed on before Heat 1, he was initially told he wouldn't be allowed to race.

When he did arrive, he was told he could race after all. So the bikes came out, kevlars on, and everyone rushed around like lunatics trying to get him ready in time... only for him to then be told he couldn't race (i won't say much more)

Surely, if you believe you're the best rider out there, you'd want to line up against the strongest competition possible and win it fairly on track? But what do I know...

Fourteen minutes. Still not over it.

But I'm also a big believer that things happen for a reason, and I genuinely don't think Chris was meant to race that day. At the time it felt incredibly frustrating, but sometimes the things that don't go to plan end up making a lot more sense further down the road.

Then somehow we rolled into September.

The kids went back to school. The uniforms came back out. The washing machine continued its personal vendetta against me.

And racing, naturally, carried straight on.

Chris finished second in the Championship League Riders’ Championship on the Saturday night. Then came a 6am start the following morning to get to Preston for the British Masters Grasstrack Championship.

Because sleep is for November. Apparently.

He only went and won it.

British Masters Champion for the fourth consecutive year, and the first rider ever to win four in succession.

And just a few days later, Cruz decided he needed to add another motorcycle to my list of things to worry about - his grasstrack bike.

After waiting and waiting for what feels like forever to be tall enough, he sat on his grasstrack bike — and suddenly realised he could finally reach the floor.

And I think the moment Chris realised at exactly the same time might be one of my favourite memories from this year.

The two of their faces when they realised together.

Honestly, if I could bottle moments, I’d bottle that one.

Cruz looking absolutely delighted with himself and Chris looking just as excited as he was. Dad and son, both knowing instantly what it meant - he was finally big enough.

Which was lovely, and also slightly terrifying.

He had his first proper go that afternoon, I couldn’t watch - Cruz of course, absolutely loved it.

Then came Pontesbury for the FGA.

The night before, Cruz had a bit of a wobble.

Not really about the racing itself. About everything around it.

He’d got it into his little head that some people didn’t like him, or treated him differently, because he’s Chris Harris’s son.

And that one hurt.

Because he’s six.

At six years old, he should be worrying about whether he’s packed enough snacks for the journey, or pokemon cards for trading - not whether people have already made their minds up about him.

He shouldn’t be worrying about whether people like him because of who his Dad is. He shouldn’t feel like he has anything to prove, so i told him exactly that, whilst my heart was secretly breaking on the inside.

He doesn’t have to prove anything to anybody. He doesn’t have to answer anybody. He just needs to stay kind, stay respectful, be happy, enjoy his racing and let his riding do the talking.

Arriving at Pontesbury the next morning, I was more worried than usual. I just wanted him to have a happy day. I wanted him to get back on his bike and remember why he does it.

Because he loves it.

Cruz decided the best way to deal with a confidence wobble was this:

Seven races. Seven wins. P1. Full maximum. Rider of the Day.

And just like that, there it was.

Five on the bounce. Five FGA meetings. Five wins. Five full maximums.

I think sometimes, as parents, we get so caught up in wanting to protect them from everything that we forget they’re quietly learning how to deal with things themselves.

And he did, in the most Cruz way possible, by riding his bike.

While Cruz was doing his thing at Pontesbury, Chris had another rather important weekend of his own.

Roden, The FIM Long Track of Nations.

Great Britain went there as the defending World Champions, with Chris once again captaining the team. And for most of the day, it looked very much like they might be bringing that title home again.

GB topped the qualifying scores with 65 points and went into the winner-takes-all final ahead of the Netherlands.

Then, while Chris was battling at the front, his bike suffered a mechanical problem and he had to pull up. Honestly, racing can be absolutely brutal sometimes.

Chris was gutted. I left him to process it for a while because, whilst most people, myself included, would treasure a World Championship silver medal forever, all he could see was the title that had slipped away. That's the cruel side of sport. Sometimes an incredible achievement still feels like a disappointment when you know what could have been.

So here we are, summer complete.

As usual, by the time I've actually got around to finishing this blog, life has already moved on at full speed.

I've squeezed in a trip to Toruń for the Speedway GP, Cruz is in coding club as well as football, Amara-Mae is back at dance and has now added gymnastics to the mix, and Chris returned from Marmande, where he rounded off the World Long Track season in style with a win and secured third place in the World Championship - but i'll save that for my next blog.

Looking ahead, the calendar isn't getting any quieter either. We've got the Wimborne Whoppa, Northampton, another round of FGA, another grasstrack meeting for Chris, birthday parties, a trip to Glasgow for the end-of-season dinner and dance, the bike show, awards night, and no doubt a few other things I've forgotten about.

Then there's the rollercoaster ride that comes with the end of the season. The phone starts ringing a little more, conversations begin, plans are discussed, and before you know it, talks and contracts for 2027 are already underway and the good old speedway rumour mill is in full swing.

Somehow we've packed water parks, world medals, hospital stays, british titles, family adventures, Italian sunshine, airport drama, five FGA wins, one very brave little girl, and countless miles into a single summer.

Genuinely, I don't think we have a single free weekend between now and December.

It's been messy. It's been magical. It's been exhausting at times.

But that's life for us, and even when it's messy it's magic ...

Emma-Louise x

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