Steve “Hizzy” Hislop
11-01-1962 - 30-06-2003

I was going to write my own personal dedication to Hizzy, but David’s words below sum it up perfectly. I’d always seen Hizzy around the paddock to say hello to since 2000. But I only got to know him well during the last six months of his life, we shared a lot of laughs, a few tears and hundreds of stories that I will always cherish in my heart, I miss him dearly.
He was an inspirational guy who could have me hooked on a conversation for hours, the phone bills got pretty expensive as we put the world the rights. There were many people in the paddock who could only say bad things about Hizzy, yes he was opinionated, and sometime didn’t think before he spoke. But I can honestly say he was one of the kindest and most genuine people I have ever met and the memories we stay with me forever.
He adored his boys, Aaron and Connor and if he was having a bad day at the races all you needed to do was talk about them to bring a beaming smile to his face. The lady in his heart was always Kelly, the mum of his two gorgeous boys, I know he’ll be looking after you all now and watching over you. His words to me were….Never look back always look forward.
I would strongly recommend to anyone to read Hizzy’s Autobiography, it’s eerily strange in the fact even though it was written before he died it was almost like it was written afterwards as a tribute.

A legend on two wheels, a life lived in full
David Ferguson from The Scotsman - written the week after Hizzy’s death.

FEW can say they really knew Steve Hislop. Fewer still, perhaps, understood him.

The Borders-born and bred motorbike rider, who died in a helicopter accident a week past Wednesday at the age of 41, brought entertainment, frustration, joy and unbridled excitement to millions who grew up with him and watched from afar. He has attracted so many descriptions in tributes since his death, from renegade to quiet man, maverick to cool head, and selfish and self-obsessed to generous and big-hearted, that to the neutral observer he must appear a bewildering enigma.

What there is no dispute over is the fact that Steve Hislop was not merely talented, but was one of the world’s fastest motorbike riders of all time.

While there was always the feeling that much was going on inside the Hislop cranium, more than was ever communicated, to say he was complicated would contradict the fact that he preferred simplicity, told it straight, sometimes too straight for his own good, and cared little for hyperbole. It is also hard to term ‘Hizzy’ either an introvert or an extrovert. He could be both.
He was, however, shy and a self-confessed loner, someone who grew up in the rural Borders village of Chesters, tucked away in the hills between Jedburgh and Hawick, surrounded only by farms. He spent most of his childhood with his younger brother Garry, had few close friends and grew to love life without the intrusion of adulation.

When Garry was killed, in a motorbike accident at Silloth in 1982, aged 19, his best friend was taken from him. His father Sandy, Steve and Garry’s inspiration for motorbike racing, had suffered a heart attack and died in his arms three years earlier, when Steve was just 17. If ever there were reasons for being introverted, here was good cause.

With the support of his mother, Margaret, he came through alcohol-filled depression and numerous car crashes, and motorcycle racing inevitably proved his saviour. Without initially telling his mother, he entered and finished second in a newcomers’ race at the Manx Grand Prix in 1983 - the year after Garry had won it. The future then became clearer, his calling grew louder, and the focus on achieving something in his life intensified.

Though attracting wide interest, he remained the shy Borderer, which explains why he could be viewed as a stern, distant character when at the racetrack or PR events, as he was amidst strangers, be they sponsors, fans, team-mates or rivals.

His mother Margaret admitted to me: “I never understood how he could speak so confidently on the television after races because he was always a shy, quiet boy. He was just a country lad, who liked shooting and fishing, and he didn’t have a lot of confidence.

“I worried when he went into the world of professional racing that he would change, but he never did. He still liked nothing more than getting back to his house and away from all that, to spend time with his boys. The boys brought something out of Steve that many people hadn’t seen before, and that is how I will remember him: a doting dad.”

Unused to crowds, Hislop was never as happy and confident as when taking on the contours and elements at nearly 200mph on a screaming, thrusting bike with only himself for company or, latterly, piloting a state-of-the-art helicopter. In both, he was his own man, free as a bird and reliant on courage and a rare high degree of skill that few could match.

Hislop was undoubtedly a character, both in the sporting realm and in his private life. From his early days rolling down hillsides inside old tyres, poaching salmon or skidding bikes round Borders fields, always with his brother, to the months before his death, sport and life were so closely intertwined as to be inseparable.

There was a hard edge to Hislop, and his gruff, suffer-no-fools manner could prove a turn-off to those who didn’t know him. That is true of many Borderers, and many recognised and sympathised with the man often chastised by team managers and fellow racers as an arrogant, detached and mouthy Scot. Now, they admit he was a fantastically generous individual whose honesty, skill and courage left vivid imprints, and many in sport wish they had his mental toughness.

That is because few would mistake his intense demeanour for anything other than a determined focus on his sport and the concentration it demanded of him to become what many regard as the fastest and smoothest rider of his generation. The incredible number of tributes which have flooded the media, paid by those who raced with and against him, serve as a lasting testament to the regard in which he was held. It is sad they come only now Hislop is gone - too few of his rivals could see beyond the mask to heap the deserved praise on his shoulders while he lived.

The term ‘perfectionist’ has been used regularly this week to describe Hislop. The sport might have been wild and Hislop may have enjoyed some wild nights out on occasion, but he was not a wild