He had been preparing for his second IDM Supersport, but Troy Beinlich lost his life in a crash during the traditional season opener, the “1,000 Kilometers of Hockenheim.” On Saturday, April 27, 2024, his ashes will be interred at the Upper Cemetery in Pößneck.
Dear Troy, hi there,
That’s what I usually called you. I didn’t want to believe that you were dead. But then I checked at least five different sources, and they all told me the same thing. Even though I love to talk and do so a lot, I’m speechless about this. Yes, we all know that our sport carries a risk, but we constantly push it out of our minds. We’re world champions at that. Every single one of us thinks, “Nothing will happen to me.” And in an instant, everything changes. Just like with you. And yet we keep riding on and on. Because we live for this racing. It meant everything to you, too, and there was nothing you would have rather done. It’s a comfort to know that you were happy in the moment you died. Without motorcycling, you would have withered away like a primrose. I know that, because I knew you back when you were still in diapers instead of a leather suit.
You were almost born in Hockenheim. Your father, Knut, was on the starting grid for Supersport, and your mother, Mandy—heavily pregnant—was holding his umbrella as a grid girl. No sooner had your father completed the first lap than your mother went into labor. She was actually still three weeks away from her due date, but you decided you had to come out of her belly right then and there. A friend was about to call an ambulance, but your mother was determined to get home. And she actually made it. Knut drove like a madman. On October 1, nothing could stop you, and you came into the world. By the way, you owe your name, Troy, to three-time Superbike World Champion Troy Bayliss. You even shook his hand once later on.
There was no way around a career in motorcycle racing for you. Mandy dragged you to soccer practice three times. All the other boys ran after the coach, but you sat on the field picking flowers, thinking: they’ll be back here in a minute anyway. It was completely pointless to steer you toward any other sport. Your parents even tried motocross, but that was just as futile. You wanted to be a road racer. Just like your big brother Chris.
Chris sometimes got you out of a tight spot. You might have thought that you were the lively one in the family and Chris the quieter, more level-headed one, but that wasn’t the case at all. When it came to official matters, you always managed to wriggle your way out of things and sent Chris ahead of you. You weren’t exactly brimming with confidence, but anyone who didn’t know you well wouldn’t have noticed.
You and your brother loved to hop on your bikes in the evenings after work to recharge your batteries. The two of you were a great team. It’s a blessing that things worked out so well with your parents, Grandpa, your brother and his girlfriend, and your Sarah in the apartments above the workshop. And, of course, with Lou, your dog. Sometimes, when you were relaxing, you’d rest your head on her belly. You were able to be carefree and happy and have fun.
To be honest, when I think of you, I also think of your colorful underwear. When you slipped out of your jumpsuit in front of me during the interview, I couldn’t help but look. Those panties were the absolute highlight. You had a real thing for that sort of thing. And for colorful socks. I know you also had black ones for special occasions, but I never saw those.
Hey, you’d be surprised how many people are thinking of you right now. There are tons of flowers, candles, and pictures in front of the door at home. People all over the world are showing immense sympathy for what you’re going through. There are so many pictures of you circulating online, and you can’t even count the likes anymore.
On Saturday, your urn will be interred in Pößneck, and a final gathering will be held in your honor. We don’t know where you are now, but our thoughts are with you, and you live on in our memories. And you can be sure of one thing: we won’t just be raising a glass to you and eating a bratwurst on Saturday.
Goodbye.
Anke Wieczorek
on behalf of the entire IDM team
(Bert, Normann, Yannic, Nadine, Angelina, Rowena, Dino, Stefan, Karsten, Lenka, Axel, Tobi, Matthias, Antonia, Michael, Björn)
