We heard from the 1987 world champion himself in regards to this story and he remembers that his old and late friend John Brown wrote it. Thanks WG!

Wayne Gardner never did things the easy way. From the gritty streets of Wollongong, New South Wales, to the top step of a Grand Prix podium, Gardner carved out one of motorcycle racing's most dramatic careers—a journey fueled by raw talent, sheer willpower, and an unshakable Aussie spirit that made him a hero at home and a fan favorite abroad.

It was 1987 when Gardner's legend was cemented. At the Goiania circuit in Brazil, under a searing September sun, he clinched Australia's first-ever 500cc World Championship. Thirty-two grueling laps around a dusty 3.83-kilometer circuit drained even the fittest riders, but Gardner endured. When he finally crossed the line, he had more than just victory—he had history.

Fifteen minutes after the checkered flag, still in his leathers and now flanked by 25 armed police organized by his ever-resourceful right-hand man Mick Roberts, Gardner emerged in the grandstand. He was swarmed by chaos, media, and fans. Despite the heat, the exhaustion, and the noise. That night, Goiania turned into a motorcyclist's Mardi Gras. Beer, champagne, and Aussie joy flowed freely as the paddock celebrated a momentous milestone: one of their own, a tough-as-nails Aussie, had climbed the highest peak of Grand Prix racing. When others would have vanished into the VIP lounges or luxury hotels, Gardner, ever the egalitarian, led the revelry at the local strip club — shirtless, grinning, and flanked by fans and fellow riders.

Gardner’s path to the title wasn’t paved with gold. It began in 1981 when a then-unknown Gardner arrived in Britain via Daytona. With his girlfriend Donna and a clapped-out Austin 1800 as their traveling home, he slept rough, raced hard, and survived on fish and chips. By 1983, he had burst onto the world stage at Assen, and though his debut-season was marred by a crash with then-World Champion Franco Uncini, he refused to quit. Uncini recovered. Gardner stayed.

His style was aggressive, his riding uncompromising. Flat out was the only way he knew. Between 1983 and 1992, Gardner captured 18 Grand Prix wins and the 1987 world title—a career built on grit, determination, and more than a few injuries. "I've hurt myself too often," he later admitted, though it never stopped him for long. Broken legs, shattered feet, fractured wrists—Gardner kept coming back.

He made his mark in 1986 with a breakout win at Jarama in Spain.

The following season, he hit his stride. The Rothmans Honda was a beast, and Gardner wrestled it into submission. He scored victories, wowed fans, and won over skeptics. His sister-in-law, a nurse from Perth, famously jumped the fence at Phillip Island in 1989, screaming, "Wayne! Wayne! Wayne!" as he claimed a win on home soil.

But the career highs were matched with devastating lows. In 1989, a crash at Laguna Seca left him with a badly broken leg. In 1990, he broke it again at Suzuka. Five bones in his foot were fractured at the Nurburgring. At one press conference, he appeared with his foot in a metal frame.

Yet it was in the crucible of pain and adversity that Gardner showed his mettle. His final Grand Prix victory, the 1990 Australian GP at Phillip Island, came with a broken wrist. Three times he nearly lost the front chasing Wayne Rainey and teammate Mick Doohan. But he refused to yield. Gardner crossed the line first, prompting even his stoic team manager Erv Kanemoto to almost shed a tear.

By 1992, the fire still burned, but Gardner was ready to step back. "It's the right time for me to get out," he said, announcing his retirement at Donington Park. "I've loved it, but I've also hurt myself too often. I want to go out on top."

He had rejected offers from rival teams for 1993. His heart was no longer in it. He had proven what he needed to. "I still love riding 500 GP bikes. There's nothing in the world to compare with them. But enough is enough."

Gardner’s career was marked not just by trophies, but by his ability to lift an entire sport. He dragged Grand Prix motorcycle racing into the Australian mainstream, winning over a country and inspiring generations. From Barry Sheene’s wingman to national icon, his journey was defined by highs, heartbreak, and heroics.

And through it all, Wayne Gardner remained unmistakably Wayne Gardner.

Even as he rode to his final victories with screws in his bones and pain behind his eyes, he never lost his sense of humor. After that first win in Spain, when a Spanish doctor handed him suppositories instead of pill-form painkillers, Gardner—more curious than cautious—gave them a go. "Found them a bit chewy," he said, deadpan, to the BBC. And with that, the boy from Wollongong not only won a Grand Prix—he won over a continent.