Hamilton, Raikkonen and Massa may be motor-racing superstars but none can claim to have burnt up the Silverstone racetrack at 180mph on two wheels.

Now, thanks to James Toseland, world superbike champion, I am about to go where Formula One fears to tread. It’s a sunny spring day and instead of straddling my Yamaha lawnmower for the first cut of the year I’m on board a 998cc Yamaha YZF-R1 with Toseland’s hand on the throttle and the prospect of a knee-grazing, heart-stopping circuit of Silverstone racetrack.

I’ve ridden motorbikes before but my last accident happened when I toppled over on an oil slick at 20mph. If I come off here, it’ll take more than a trip to Halfords to sort me out.

Perched on a 7in-square pad purporting to be the pillion seat, I am staring at the sky hoping for some kind of divine intervention, a mechanical breakdown or a marshal with a black flag. Then Toseland rips open the throttle, the Yamaha’s engine screams (or was it me?) and I hold on for dear life, trying to resist the desire to shut my eyes.

He may not yet be a household name like Lewis Hamilton, but Toseland, 27, is a two-time world champion in a sport that, to many eyes, makes F1 look like a breeze.

Bike racers reach F1 speeds on two wheels without the benefit of a monocoque cockpit and with little more than their leathers for protection. And whereas the likes of Hamilton might overtake once or twice on a good day, Toseland clocks up dozens of daring overtaking manoeuvres every race, scraping metal and almost brushing leathers with the other riders as he ploughs his way through the field.

After claiming the world superbikes title for the second time in 2007, he made the move to MotoGP, in which the bikes are custom built for extra speed and excitement.

The Yamaha R1 we’re riding today is the road-going equivalent of Toseland’s race bike. It won’t quite reach the speeds of his MotoGP machine, which Toseland claims to have got up to 214mph, but still it’s no pussycat. “This is a fast machine and it’s incredible to think that anybody who passes a motorcycle test could go out and buy one for £9,000,” he says. “I could really scare you if I wanted to.”

Toseland first learnt how to handle a bike on the slag heaps behind his family home in Rotherham, South Yorkshire, and he knows how painful it is to fall off. In 2000 he broke his femur in three places during a race at Cadwell Park, Lincolnshire. “ I locked up both front and back wheels, went sideways and was thrown off. My right leg was wrapped around my neck.”

It doesn’t sound pretty. By way of protection I’m wearing a leather racesuit, with outsize kneepads, whopping boots and a Quasimodo lump on my back. It feels three sizes too small and I’m waddling along the pit lane like a baboon in high heels. The lump is an aerodynamic race hump. For competitive riders it creates a slipstream from the rear of the helmet as they crouch forward.

If a rider comes off he’s likely to slide and roll long distances. Leather is the material of choice to cut down on abrasive injuries, with kangaroo skin the most supple and expensive. Knees are particularly vulnerable, so suit makers fit “sliders”, usually strips of titanium, to protect them. They make me walk like Groucho Marx without the cigar.

Toseland struts onto the track like a determined fighter pilot. There’s not an inch of flab on him and wearing shades – borrowed from me, I might add – he could be mistaken for Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Fortunately, the resemblance ends there because Toseland is taller and, as it turns out, the most sorted and approachable bloke you could wish to meet. Which is a good thing when he’s all that lies between you and a few weeks in hospital.

With me clinging on for dear life, he roars out of the pits. The R1 isn’t equipped with antilock braking and I can feel the rear wheel bunny-hopping all over the place while Toseland fights to keep the machine straight and upright in a billow of burning tyre smoke. He’s also having to contend with a howling lunatic climbing all over his back in a hail of flailing arms.

Then we do the cornering thing. In a Ferrari road car, taking a tight bend fast might involve brushing your elbow or knee on the door trim and spilling a drop of limoncello. On Toseland’s motorbike you could reach sideways and take the skin off your fingers, the tarmac is that close.

At this point, like me, you may want to shut your eyes because the Yamaha is leaning so far that Toseland scuffs his knee and foot pedal on the asphalt. Sparks fly as the Yorkshireman feels the bike shift and adjusts his balance. Alarmingly, my backside parts company with the saddle. Toseland “wheelies” the bike out of the bend and still finds time to reach back and push me straight in the saddle.

Then we’re off up the straight. The R1 will hit 60mph in less than 3sec. I can’t prise my hand from Toseland’s waist to stop the visor from vibrating, but through the haze it looks as if we’re nudging 180mph. I can see we’re topping 130mph on the bends. Despite this, Toseland is talking to me over the intercom like a man driving his mum out for Sunday lunch.

As we pass the final grandstand, he warns me to sit upright and hold on tighter as he drops down a gear, twists the throttle and lifts the front wheel 3ft in the air. If feels as if we are momentarily flying, except that the moment seems to go on and on as Toseland tears past a stunned line of photographers just a few feet away. We’re flashing over the finishing line on just one wheel.

After my life has passed before my eyes, Toseland brings the front wheel down smoothly and we’re home and dry. I say dry, even though I’m drenched in sweat. Hugging a grown man in tight-fitting leather isn’t the kind of thing I usually get up to but I’ll make an exception when one of them is Toseland and I’m riding pillion.

There is a chance this month to win the Yamaha YZF-R1 ridden by Toseland and Taylor. Go to www.bennetts.co.uk for details

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