By Rory Anson

Led Zeppelin has always been my favorite rock band. And, like a lot of kids growing up in the 1970s and ‘80s, I spent the bulk of my teen years attached to a cheap Radio Shack all-in-one stereo via those foam and plastic headphones with the coiled cord.

I’d pore over every detail of every Zep album (except Coda, because that one didn’t count). When I discovered that the otherworldly, hexagonal rock formation on the cover of the “Houses of the Holy” album was a real place in Ireland, I knew that I’d go there someday. Almost 40 years later, that someday came.

But it wasn’t a Zeppelin-inspired pilgrimage to the Giant’s Causeway that brought me and my 14-year-old son, Finn, to Northern Ireland. It was the Ulster Grand Prix, a 7.4-mile course that’s been held on the country roads at Dundrod, just outside of Belfast, since 1922.

The Ulster GP is one in a series of road races held every year between April and September that includes the Cookstown 100, the North West 200, Kells and Armoy.

Initially, I’d considered going to the Isle of Man TT, a hugely popular motorcycling bucket list destination. And, while the thought of spending several days on an island in the Irish Sea — drinking beer with a bunch of like-minded motorcycle enthusiasts watching world-class riders whiz by at death-defying speeds — sounded like a great time, it wasn’t what this was about.

This was a father-son trip, the race being just one of many things we’d experience during our two weeks in Ireland. It was an attempt to create some memories with Finn before he started high school and went headlong into his own adolescent vortex.

The UGP seemed like the perfect opportunity for us to experience our first Irish road race, family-style.

Since we’d be in the neighborhood, we could also check out the Giant’s Causeway, visit with relatives in Belfast, and—who knows—maybe someone might have his first pint.

We arrived at Dundrod for Saturday’s races shortly before the roads closed and found our way to the hospitality tent. I’d figured that, since we were traveling all the way from Oregon, we might as well do it in style, so I sprung for the VIP package. Breakfast and lunch were provided, along with two fully stocked bars and a great view of the track, as well as a jumbo screen to watch the action unfold.

Between races there were interviews with current and veteran riders, music and plenty of comic relief, courtesy of the emcee. I can’t recall her name, but she was hilarious. As they say in Ireland, it was great craic.

The first race of the day was delayed for about an hour to allow a few remaining wet patches time to dry. Once conditions were favorable, all the competitors took a lap in honor of retiring road racing medic Dr. Fred McSorley.

Then, it was time.

Motorcycles assembled on the grid, engines revving, the crowd pumped. It was electric.

Billed as “The World’s Fastest Road Race,” the Ulster GP features riders routinely hitting speeds approaching 200 mph, as they come screaming through the Flying Kilo into the first corner at Leathemstown.

Catching air over Deer’s Leap, their rear wheels once again make that scary, wobbly contact with the road, just like we’ve all seen on YouTube.

Narrowly missing the stone walls, signposts and hedges along the way, their dragging knees rustle the grass through Wheeler’s Corner, and then they slow into Lindsay Hairpin before throttling past spectators eagerly awaiting their blurred arrival in the Joey Dunlop Grandstands.

Before the racing started, we happened to strike up a conversation with a man who turned out to be a longtime sponsor of the event. He invited us to join his group to watch the Superbike race from Deer’s Leap.

With precious little time between races, a dozen of us scrambled through the paddock, piled into a little Transit van and bounced our way up a narrow lane, before jumping from the van. We ran like hell across the track with about five seconds to spare before they closed the road. “C’mon Yanks, run!” was all I remembered hearing.

The vantage point at Deer’s Leap is essentially a gravel drive between a couple of houses, along what any other day would be a quiet country byway.

First, you hear what sounds like the faint hum of a swarm of yellow jackets. The volume slowly increases as you catch sight of them, at speeds now north of 160 mph and climbing.

Finn and I were not much more than arm’s length away as we watched Bruce Anstey, Peter Hickman, Dean Harrison and Michael Dunlop fly by in a flash, leaving only a breeze in their wake. I’ll never forget the look on Finn’s face after that first wave of bikes came roaring through. That’s the experience I was after!

All in all, it was a spectacular day of racing. Peter Hickman scored a hat trick, winning the Superstock and both Supersport races. Veteran Anstey took the top spot in the first of two Superbike races, after an epic back-and-forth with Hicky, who took second.

Thanks to our new friends, we were able to take in the second Supersport race from “Hole in the Wall” at Wheeler’s Corner, watching a thrilling Supertwin battle from the podium.

Clerk of the Course, Noel Johnston, and his crew put on a sensational day of racing, and we couldn’t have asked for a better time.

The friendly and relaxed atmosphere at the UGP was amazing. The paddock is open to fans, and the riders are very accessible. We were able to meet and take photos with many of our favorite racers.

The cherry on top was meeting “The Flying Kiwi,” Bruce Anstey, who gave Finn an autographed knee slider. What an awesome guy. I’ll bet Bruce likes Led Zeppelin. Next year I’ll ask him.