All Shook Up

Spewing mud from its tires, the motorcycle snarled into the sleepy farmyard--and plowed abruptly into a pole. Uninjured, the rider hopped off, inspected the damage, and turned to the startled farmer. "My name is Jill Savage," she said sweetly, "Could I please borrow your hammer?"

In her black boots and waterproofs, blonde hair stuffed carelessly into a green helmet, pert Jill Savage looked like a B-movie caricature of a reformatory-bound juvenile delinquent. But Cyclist Savage, 23, is more than a thrill-happy young Briton. She is a grim competitor in one of the world's most harrowing and hazardous sports: cross-country motorcycle racing. Fortnight ago, she startled 268 male competitors by winning a bronze medal in motorcycling's most rugged contest: the International Six-Day Motorcycle Trial--a grueling, 1,200-mi. marathon, run through the mountainous backwoods of Wales.

Simply Gorgeous. The "trial"--a kind of rally for motorcycles*--is a punishing test of bike-handling skill that requires the agility of an acrobat, the know-how of a mechanic, and the endurance of Job. Riders use special, lightweight motorcycles with high ground clearance (for traversing rocky terrain), special gears (for hill-climbing power), and waterproofed engines (for fording streams). Bounced like Yo-yos by their bucking bikes, they must make their own repairs in case of breakdown, take care of their own first aid. Spills are common: in the Welsh trial. Russia's Vikton Pylajev broke both legs; five other motorcyclists somehow escaped serious injury when they plunged, one after another, down a 60-ft. embankment. Fatigue is universal: 86 competitors failed to finish.

Handling a testy racing bike is tough work for a man, but to Jill Savage it is almost always just plain fun. "When you look at a good bike," she says, "it's like looking at a steeplechase horse. It's lovely. When you feel the tires bite the turf and the bike take off. and you know you've judged it just right, and you can feel the power waiting to take a bite again--that's simply gorgeous."

Two More Years. Both of Jill's parents were motorcycle racers, and Jill is well aware of the risks involved. "When Mum came to have me, she nearly died. She'd been so shaken up inside. It gets a girl in the tummy." To protect her own tummy, Jill wears a g-in.-wide "body belt," but she still takes a beating elsewhere. Last year in Scotland, she fractured a kneecap. In Wales, Jill suffered through a series of bizarre misfortunes. Stuck in a deep bog, she had to drag her 3OO-lb. cycle out of the mud. When her bike hit a bad bump, Jill plunged over the handlebars, landed headfirst in a rabbit hole. "I was stuck so fast," she says, "that I had to undo my helmet to get my head out.'' Battered, mud-spattered, running a fever, Jill doggedly refused to quit.

Last week, fully recovered from her ordeal, Jill was already packing for a full year of motorcycle racing in Australia. "I figure I can last two or three more years," she said. "By then, I'll be all shook up, too."

* Riders must maintain a specified pace and check in at control stations along the way; they are docked points if they arrive too early or too late.

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