Memories from a friend, Dr Tom Smith

 For Vic Posse

Many years ago now my wife Mary was secretary to the Pinwherry Community Council. John

Findlay, owner of Poundland Farm, was the chairman. It was brought to their attention that the new

owner of Little Pinmore farm no longer wanted the Ayr Roads Cycling Club’s hut on his land.

John and Mary didn’t hesitate. John offered a new site for the hut at Poundland, just across the

burn from our house. That decision changed our lives. We now had all these lovely cyclists

regularly visiting next door, and chief among them was Vic Posse. He would cycle, sometimes with

colleagues, often on his own, to do all the jobs needed first to establish it, then to maintain it.

Watching him, I just had to get to know him. So I walked across to the hut and introduced myself to

him. Over a few cups of tea we got to know each other, and the close friendship that we developed

lasted to the end.

Vic was a very special man. Originally from Kent, (Gwynneth, his also very special partner,

explained that) he was a man of Kent, and not a Kentish man, defined by on which side of the

River Medway was his home town. He kept his accent throughout his life, but after many years in

his adopted country he had become a true Scot. He loved life here, and he enjoyed the company

and love of his many friends.

His fellow cyclists in Ayr Roads, and many people in the wider world of competitive cycling,

admired him not only for his cycling skills, knowledge, and achievements, but also for his friendly,

kind and enthusiastic personality. My own cycling experience peaked when I was 15 years old,

when with two friends I cycled around Ireland for the 5 weeks of summer holiday. We were on

heavy bikes with 3-speed Sturmey-Archer gears, and panniers and saddle bags carrying our tents

and other essentials. It rained steadily on all but two of those days. It left me with a sore coccyx for

two years and a vow never to get on a bike again.

Nearly 50 years later Vic got me back on a bicycle. He brought me a bike, and a helmet, and I

cycled round my garden. It felt great, and my old enthusiasm returned. From then on Vic and

Gwynneth visited us regularly. We chatted about New Zealand, a country that we had all visited

regularly, and Mary and I began to understand how special our new friends were. World

champions, no less, experts in the Velodrome and on the road. Yet they were modest, self effacing

and so much fun to be with.

The friendship led Vic to ask me to be the doctor in the South Ayrshire Road Race. For several

years Mary and I travelled in the medic car in the race. I couldn’t believe how hard the races were

and how fast the racers could cycle regardless of the terrain. The experience deepened my respect

for all the cyclists and especially for Vic and Gwynneth, whose lifelong love for cycling had given

them so many experiences, colleagues and friendships around the world.

Vic was a lovely man, gentle, generous, knowledgeable, open hearted, optimistic, and kind.

Everyone who knew him loved him, and we all miss his company, his sense of fun, his laughter,

and his concern for anyone who needed help. Gwynneth was his rock and his perfect partner and

was a wonderful support for him to the end.

Tom Smith