David McGee peeled back his leathers and rolled up his sleeve to reveal his tribute. There, tattoed on his forearm, was the motorcyling legend Joey Dunlop, in trademark yellow helmet with black stripe, riding his Honda No 3.
Mr McGee, 27, a well-built fisherman from Killybegs across the Irish border in Co Donegal, was hardly the type with whom anyone would choose to trifle. So it was strangely affecting to see him quickly turn away, embarrassed, to avert his brimming eyes.
He was in good company in Ballymoney, Co Antrim, yesterday. Hundreds of hard men cried, and most did so without shame.
Northern Ireland hosted its largest funeral in almost 20 years yesterday in a staggering tribute to a man scarely known outside his native land or the world of motorcycle racing. Police expected 50,000 to turn up, and think that was an underestimate.
Protests over the Drumcree stand-off even came to a halt yesterday as heads were bowed in tribute.
Motorcyclists began arriving at dawn, from as far afield as Australia, New Zealand, Japan and South Africa, and they rode in noisy formation, turning the air blue with exhaust fumes. So many stood in the tiny country lanes around Dunlop's modest bungalow that when the cortege finally moved off, it was impossible to move.
As Dunlop began his last lap to the tiny Garryduff Presbyterian church, the applause began, tentatively at first. It was to ripple every step of the way, as the undertakers took an hour to carry him through the suffocating crowds and complete the mile-long trip.
Alan Watts, 31, a builder from Sligo, tried to explain. "Joey Dunlop was extraordinary, yet still remained ordinary. He was the most brilliant of motorcycle road-racers ever - we all know that - but he remained the same down-to-earth guy.
"I saw him last at the Isle of Man TT races three weeks ago, when he was under real pressure, and he still had time for everyone. He was welcoming fans into the paddock and chatting happily with them.
Dunlop, 48, was the last of the so-called Armoy Armada to die. His friends Mervyn Robinson and Frank Kennedy, the other members of the trio named after the nearby village where they were brought up, died in races long ago, and many thought Dunlop indestructible. He died last Sunday at a road race in Tallin, Estonia, two weeks after he won a hat-trick of races at the Isle of Man TT, taking his tally to 26 victories since 1977.
Ballymoney civic leaders granted him a civic reception and crowds clapped him around the town as he toured in an open-topped bus. He was faintly embarrassed, and his eyes were glistening as he said nothing could get any better than this.
David Cretney, the Isle of Man's tourism minister, turned up then, all chuckles as he announced an honorary knighthood for Dunlop. He broke down yesterday as he delivered the funeral eulogy.
Dunlop's racing career began in 1969. He won five world championships and hundreds of races. Dunlop's final victory came in a 600cc race in Tallin a week ago, and he was out in front on his 125cc when he lost control the next day and smashed into a tree. He died instantly.
Northern Ireland loves road-racing, the only place it is allowed in the United Kingdom, but they adore a people's champion even more.
Dunlop's pub, Joey's Bar, was festooned with flowers yesterday. Bikers queued to lay tributes and read messages left by others as Linda Dunlop and her five children buried their husband and father.
His cortege had been delayed for six hours as it ran into road blocks throughout Northern Ireland on Tuesday night.
Mrs Dunlop, in the church where she and her childhood sweetheart had recently renewed their marital vows on their silver wedding anniversary, listened as John Kirkpatrick, honorary chaplain to the Motor Cycle Union of Ireland, paid handsome tribute to his friend. In victory, he was self-effacing, and in defeat, generous.
But mourners were instead recalling Dunlop's own words. He said in his understated way: "I never really wanted to be a superstar. I just wanted to be myself.
"I hope people remember me that way."