The North West 200 is a motorcycle race meeting held each May in Northern Ireland. The course is a street circuit, made up of public roads running between the towns of Portstewart, Coleraine and Portrush (the Triangle) is one of the fastest in the world, with speeds in excess of 200 mph (320 km/h). In practice for the 2012 event Martin Jessopp was clocked at 208 mph (335 km/h). It is one of around fifteen events run on public roads between April and October throughout the island of Ireland. It is the largest annual sporting event in Ireland, with the race weekend attracting over 150,000 visitors from all over the world.
Originally intended to be held somewhere in the north west of Ireland and organised by the City of Derry & District Motor Club, the initial event was moved to the north coast but the name was never changed. Since 1964 the event has been organised by the Coleraine and District Motor Club. In 2010 the meeting featured daytime practice on the Thursday for the first time.
The 2011 event took place on Saturday 21 May. There were significant delays due to a hoax bomb alert and then an extensive oil spill on the track caused racing to be cancelled after the completion of only one race.
Read more about North West 200: Race Format, The Course, Deaths At The Event, Winners, Media Coverage, Video Game
Famous quotes containing the words north and/or west:
“When the Somalians were merely another hungry third world people, we sent them guns. Now that they are falling down dead from starvation, we send them troops. Some may see in this a tidy metaphor for the entire relationship between north and south. But it would make a whole lot more sense nutritionally—as well as providing infinitely more vivid viewing—if the Somalians could be persuaded to eat the troops.”
—Barbara Ehrenreich (b. 1941)
“There are acacias, a graceful species amusingly devitalized by sentimentality, this kind drooping its leaves with the grace of a young widow bowed in controllable grief, this one obscuring them with a smooth silver as of placid tears. They please, like the minor French novelists of the eighteenth century, by suggesting a universe in which nothing cuts deep.”
—Rebecca West (1892–1983)