The mornings were magical, (the evenings weren't so bad either) particularly on those still quiet sunny mornings. I remember being at Braddan on such a morning in 1963. Each bike could be heard setting off from the grandstand. The fours and two strokes were so different and added so much to the anticipation as to who would shortly appear. Also once at a lightweight session, standing behind them all warming up in a blue cloud of "R". Could smell it for days.
In '68 being at Keppel Gate and seeing what was obviously, by the sound, a british single coming round the 32nd followed at some distance by a two stroke. By the time they passed me Bill Ivy on a 125 was well ahead. It was then I finally accepted that the UK industry was finished.
Not sure whether it was a morning, but the roads open car would follow the last man as he passed the grandstand and we used to be up the mountain standing by to try and get a flyer immediately behind, (fat chance on a 350 Goldie!). This particular day the last guy was on a 50 and by the time they reached the 33rd there was a queue for quarter of a mile behind - I always felt sorry for that bloke.