When it came to the end of the seventh lap the little man in the airman's suit was but 20 seconds ahead, and he was looking behind him for quite long stretches to see where his opponent was. Looking round over his shoulder, without going out of his course and at 80 miles an hour! What a skill! What daring! In this eighth lap the champion of the home side came up on the machine of the American, but receded on the penultimate circuit. And so, without making a mistake, Jake de Rosier won the third race, the final, and the prize money.
Only one could win, and though Englishmen sympathized with their countryman, there was plenty of cheering for Jake, for he rode magnificently. C.R. Collier certainly did the pacing work, but after all it was a race to finish first, not to lead the whole way, and Jake, with his knowledge of track riding, was out to win. He nursed his engine by taking Collier's shelter, and he cannot be blamed for doing this. To say that both are magnificent riders is puerile: they are the two most magnificent riders the world has ever seen. Collier's steering was beautiful: he kept a course as straight as an arrow. Jake rode very differently; he dodged about the whole time, and even looked as if he were quizzing his opponent sometimes when he would dash alongside him for a short distance.
The styles of racing, in this country and America, are quite different. Here Charlie Collier has never had to take anybody's dust, and he invariably gets ahead and stays there. Jake, on the other hand, rides behind his most dangerous rivals until the time comes for a final dash. Collier had his best chance in the first race, and had he gone all out round the last bend he might have done it, but he made that fatal mistake of letting the backmarker get his throttle open first when but a few seconds from the finish. Whether Jake was all out even then we cannot tell, as he says nothing. The Hutchinson tyres on the Matchless behaved splendidly, withstanding the terrific speed and appearing little worn at the finish.
Jake's hand was bleeding at the finish, the skin being chafed through, and his back and leggings were covered in oil, for what oil, from the auxiliary exhaust ports, escaped his leggings went on to the back wheel and was immediately thrown up onto his back.
It is the opinion of the very best judges that there is not a difference of one mile an hour between the two machines, and this seems to be fully borne out by the results. Jake will presumably go back to America and sigh for more champions to conquer, but it is now certain that all doubt has been removed from the minds of those who were at one time disbelieving of the wonderful tales told of his prowess. He has beaten our records on our own track under our own timing, he has conquered our champion, and he has established a reputation for road racing in the few weeks that he has been here.
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