Back in my day, there was no Tarzy, but geez her dad could ride! Now there is a Tara Morrison and geez she can ride! If it’s time for a plonker like me to get out of the way, there’s no-one I’d rather move over for. As she engages first gear as a columnist and dumps the clutch, I’ll tell you a little bit about where she came from, and you’ll know why I reckon she is a champion off the track as much as on it.

I used to knock around with her dad, Allan Morrison, who in the 1990s was a budding stunt rider. I was editing a magazine called Streetbike, a title dedicated to modified bikes, wheelies and not getting caught. His talent was a shoo-in for the magazine and he helped us with photoshoots, testing and showing off. Allan appeared on a heap of covers and in even more articles. Always cheerful and looking for a laugh, he was fun to be around and an inspiration when we tried to follow him.

We’d go out to Oran Park Raceway early in the morning, before the 9am training session got underway, and use the track for photoshoots. The skid pan, too, and we’d have the run of it all day if it wasn’t booked. We’d put Allan on whatever was the hero bike of the day and tell him to pull wheelies, do burnouts and just stunt around while the photographer did his thing. The keener snappers would lie on the ground getting amazing angles as Allan scooted past their heads with the back wheel high in the air.

That kind of skill was beyond my comprehension. I couldn’t do it. I could barely loft a little wheelie for more than 50m. But I got a hint of it many years later when I swallowed a brave pill and climbed on the back of the-then stunt riding world champion Chris Pfeiffer’s bike. Unbelievable! It wasn’t terrifying, it was revelatory. Even from the back seat I could tell he was in complete control every moment. I was more scared on the front of my own bike than on the back of his. It made me wish I’d jumped on the back with Allan. I might have learned something when I was young enough to benefit from it.

Allan got better and better. I’d like to think the exposure Streetbike generated raised his profile enough to help a bit as he went on to score stunt-riding gigs, and then became part of a professional crew. Talk about living the dream. He was getting paid to ride like a complete hoon in front of crowds at all sorts of petrol-head events around the country.

That’s roughly when Tara came along, born into a family of dedicated motorcycle fanatics. Her future had speed, power and lean angles written all over it.

She was 13, I think, when Allan’s future took a sharp hairpin and missed. He broke his back doing a show. The cheery bugger not only got back on a bike despite having virtually no use of his legs, but he wound up opening his own bike shop, Fearless Motorcycles in Adelaide, and put all his enthusiasm into it and Tara. He and Tara seem to encourage each other, which is very, very cool. I couldn’t tell you which of them is more into Tara’s racing career, nor who drove her to succeed like she has – I don’t want to make a judgment because I’m afraid it might only take credit from the other when they both clearly deserve it.

I was watching from a distance by then, through the vicarious distraction of social media. When Tara started racing I thought good on her, but must admit I didn’t expect all that much because, well, how many young racers go on to great things? But then she was winning podiums, racing in Europe, crashing at 200km/h. Awesome. And there was Allan, devoted dad, cheering her all the way.

There’s a small irony in Tara taking my AMCN gig, and it goes back to the Streetbike connection. Until now, Streetbike was the only job I’d ever been moved along from, and I was pissed off. My contract was cancelled when I boosted sales to a benchmark, and they appointed a new editor who destroyed the magazine within months. This time, though, I’m stoked – because I’m being replaced by a seriously talented motorcyclist who’ll carry on the future of both motorcycle publishing and our motorcycle culture. Go Tara!