MotoGP 2012 -- MisterSmooth Goes to Jail (but it turns out OK)

[MisterSmooth]

Part I – MisterSmooth Goes to Jail



Northern California Duc pond


Once again it was late July and thus, MotoGP time in Smoothland.  Let’s start this tale where we started last year…at the Teapot Dome service station in Zillah, Washington.  For at least a decade this historic gas station has sat in a state of shabby forelorn charm, overlooking Interstate 84 with an eroded asphalt forecourt and pumps advertising gas at $1.79.

Despite its state of disrepair it was unique Americana and I was dismayed to ride by the site in June and see an empty lot where the station had stood for so long.  It seemed like another thing that wouldn’t ever come back, deemed unworthy of saving by short-sighted locals.

But I sold the good people of Zillah short.  They moved the station and restored it, and in somewhat bizarre timing I rode up to it on Wednesday morning just in time for the ribbon cutting.  It was a wonderful small-town event that included not one but two young ladies with diagonal ribbons across their chests proclaiming them “Miss Zillah” or “Miss Pinot Noir” or similar and a local TV sound bite.





MisterSmooth, color matched to the Historic Teapot Dome Station.


After a few hours of US freeway I rendezvoused with my men from Boise, Ken (Major 662) and Ron (XLR8).  We had a great dinner in a restaurant called “Burkina Faso” or “Barcalounger” or something like that.  Terrific, idiosyncratic décor and terrific, idiosyncratic food (my tuna had mango sherbet on it) that deserved pictures, but I took none.  In the morning I awoke somewhat blurry and was almost immediately handed an espresso courtesy of Major 662.  Truly a frickin’ god among men.




Time to go:  Ken tosses some money, food, and a couple guns in that tiny tankbag and we’re ready.

From Boise the road to the GP begins with many many miles across the high desert.


XLR8 doin’ his long distance thang.

The thing is, after the first three hours or so you may start behaving oddly to stem the boredom.  You may try to recite the entire screenplay for The Princess Bride from memory (or at least the part with Miracle Max).  Perhaps you will try taking a picture of your buddy ahead of you and your head in the rear view mirror with your buddy reflected in your visor.


Really?  It’s come to this?



I snapped this shot of the Major and at the next gas stop a woman came up to me and asked why I kept accelerating up next to Ken and then not passing him, but rather pulling back in behind him.  “Well,” I explained, “The sign said ‘No Passing’ but it didn’t prohibit riding alongside.”  She looked at me blankly.  Very blankly.  I get that sometimes.


After you’ve crossed the desert, the high Sierras are as inviting as a crisp gin and tonic.


If you look closely you can see a helicopter right center in this shot.  Gives a sense of scale:  This is a big view.

We arrived at my family’s place in Lake Tahoe and who might have arrived ahead of us but Flips21, who’d been there since 3pm.  He’d already watched the GP movie “Fastest”, stocked the fridge with Lagunitas IPA, bought about six pounds of steaks for the grille and started the coals.  Another god among men.


Flip, Ken, and me on the deck at Tahoe.  Ron is taking the pic.


Ron explains how Stephen Hawking inspired the kinesthetic qualities of Kawasaki’s KTRC.


We were all well met, and as usual the silliness started almost at once.  You put in the gas again and again…



But where the hell does it go?




As advertised, I did indeed go to jail.  But look, it worked out!  In a remarkably short time I was named “Employee of the Month.”




When we’d ride through a small town, Ken made a point of making short stops at local banks.  Something about “funding the trip.”  I’m not sure what he meant but he always paid cash for things so it must have worked out.



Another thing you only see in a small town.  Look closely—this dog is walking itself.



As always, there was plenty of Pledge.  Gives you that fresh lemon scent every time you dust.




We headed off to Flip’s place in Santa Rosa.


The mighty K1300S = warp drive; the Guzzi Sport = impulse power.


Taking a minute to remind my daughter to empty the cat box.  Remember those quaint flip phones?

The Russian River Brewing Company in Santa Rosa makes a very hoppy, and hypey, IPA called “Pliny the Elder.”  It seemed impossible for it to live up to its billing, but it was very good indeed.  Russian River, and Pliny, are recommended; the brewpub is downtown and easy to find.


Ken meets Pliny, with outstanding results.









We arrived at our luxury suites in Monterey and unpacked before heading off to Cannery Row.



Ever since he bought the Ducati, Flip has been concerned about theft.  Just a lock didn’t seem good enough so finally he just took the damn thing apart and brought in into our room in pieces.

[MisterSmooth]

Part II –We Go Racing


One of the best things about going to the races is that there are bikes everywhere.  Parked up, splitting lanes next to you on the freeway, lulling you to sleep with the Slovakian song of Akrapovic.  Mostly sportbikes, but plenty of sport tourers and, surprisingly, Harleys.

Ducati is hugely overrepresented.  There are Ducatis of every size, style, and stripe.  How many new Panigales have been sold?  They were all in Monterey last weekend.  At first we were taking note (“Look, there’s a new Panigale!  That’s sicker than Elvis in rehab!”), but when they’re as common as Honda Civics the thrill wears off and by Saturday night even a Tricolore only brought a casual second glance.  By the time we left the track on Sunday, in order to get us to pay attention to a Panigale it had to have been farkled by the Starboyz or be ridden topless by Monica Bellucci.


Check out her boots!


Not just one Rune…but two!  Oh, and another damn Panigale tricolore.



Not just one Honda Trail 70…but two!  Panigale just out of sight to the right.





This custom bracket was tasty.  Also looks kinda like a Restoration Hardware floor lamp.


Just a few years ago, it was 100F in the stands during the MotoGP and Laguna Seca was giving away free bottles of icy cold water to keep people from passing out.  But this July, it was in the fifties and foggy when we arrived at the piste.



All manner of race fans were there.  This nail of an old Honda broke down and gave up not fifty feet from us, with the unfortunate rider unable to get it going again.  The tableau was complete when his girl started casting a roving eye at any bike passing them that had a decent pillion seat.



Ducati thoughtfully provided this desmodromic ping-pong table on Ducati Island.



Honda, Yamaha, and Suzuki were nicely represented with large manufacturer tents.  We sat on the second generation V-Max.  It’s the 1970 Buick Riviera of motorcycles:  Long, luxurious, outrageous as a chrome golf cart, and flaunting a huge lump of an engine.  From the seat, it’s deceptively normal but there is a LOT of motorcycle extended out behind you.



Ken and Flip are impressed by the rear view video cam for backing up.


The sun came out during the electric bike race, which is appropriate since the batteries for the Barracuda entry, leading in the light blue paint, are charged by a big solar panel array.




The Barracuda racebike won the nine lap race handily.  Maybe I’m just geeky to the core but this race was engaging and the technological pace of electric racing development is fascinating.  Engineering of the bikes is progressing so quickly that this year’s field is noticeably faster than last year’s and the race is one lap longer.  It’s as if Rossi and company were riding eighties superbikes last year, and then 500cc two-strokes this year, and next year show up with pod racers.

There’s some strategy involved in the racing, most of which is to conserve energy.  The bikes at the back of the grid slow down noticeably by the end of the race.  However, the winner still was driving hard out of turn four on the last lap and probably could have done another couple of laps at speed.

The electric motorbike pit is a bit different that a regular pit.  Note that there are really no tools or tires or various racing stuff hanging around.  Just stunta sized sprockets and a couple of laptops for tuning.



And really, is this the attitude you want to see in a race paddock?  Software engineers sipping vodka tonics and laying down a couple of lines of bad-ass C++ to get those elusive tenths?  C’mon, gimme Gerry Burgess tossing spanners and cussing in Australian English any day.



Finally it was time for MotoGP.  The stands were nicely full…



And here they come.  Jorge Lorenzo with Stoner and Pedrosa right behind.  Those three quickly left the pack and zipped away in their own little alien triumvirate.  OK, I cheered a little bit when Stoner passed Lorenzo for the win.



One more race:  AMA Superbikes.  As usual Josh Hayes dominated, but the coolest thing on the grid was the lone KTM RC8.  My people know that I loves me some European sportsbikes, and if I don’t have an Aprilia to cheer for this KTM is almost as good.  Here goes the Austrian sachertorte down the corkscrew, brainy as Boltzmann, fast as Mach and sound effects by Doppler…Austrians all.



Here’s a proper pit after the race, orange as a safety cone at sunset, with burly guys slinging exotic parts around and the incense of expensive racing oils.



I commented to one of guys in the pit that this was the finest thing in the Superbike race.  “Yeah, Josh Hayes, whatever,” I said.  “Every lap I was waiting for the RC8 to come around.”

The KTM guy grinned and said, “You want to sit on it?”  Well, now yes I did.  As giddy as a twelve year old I hopped on board before he could change his mind.




After the races, we hit the road for the Sierras again.  Thing about motorcycling in California is, after you’ve spent a few hours on the freeway doing this…


You lookin’ at me?

You get to do this.









We spent the night in Markleeville.  Despite that it was founded in 1861, and its lofty status as the County seat, there are only about twelve buildings in town.  We rode in exhausted from days of riding twisty roads in the California sunshine and nights in lavish accommodations.

And parked up in downtown M-town (OK, everywhere in Markleeville is downtown) were a couple of bad-ass motorbikes.  A 2002 Yamaha R1 and a Honda Blackbird.  I hunted down the riders (OK, it wasn’t that hard) and turns out they’re righteous brothers.  They were roommates in college twenty years ago and have kept in touch.  Robert lives in Reno; his buddy Mark flew down from Spokane, and they rode Robert’s two motorbikes to Monterey for the races.

“So,” I said.  “You’d lend a friend your motorbike, eh?  I bet you’re the kind of guy who would help move a body.”

Without dropping a beat, Robert says, “I’m not doing that again.”  Deadpan.  “It almost went sideways last time.”


Mark on the left, Robert on the right.


Morning in M town

This trip we crossed the Sierras on Highway 49, the LaPorte Quincy highway, the Oroville-Quincy Highway, and Highway 108.  To make it a nice even five count I took Highway 70 on the way home.  Highway 70 winds its way down the Feather River canyon, features a long ribbon of sweepers and is ridiculously scenic.  Downside is that traffic can be tough so you need to choose your time carefully.



I came across a couple of guys from Reno on BMW’s.  This is the Bucks Creek Powerhouse, where the engineering solution for running out of room in the canyon was to put the transformers right over the road.






Every trip I learn something, and given my limited mental capacity it’s often learned for the second or third time.  This trip I learned that BIKE magazine thinks that the most fun bike is the Triumph Street Triple.  And while there’s no doubt that the Striple is guaranteed fun, as are Tuonos, Dukes, Hypermotards and Speed Trips, I was reminded that the most fun bike is sitting in your garage.  You’ve got the root password to it and get to ride it whenever you want.

So jeez, stop reading this tripe and get out there!  

[DogBoy]

Every year I look forward to summer, motorcycle racing season (all disciplines), MisterSmooth's MotoGP ride report and renewing my mix of hatred/envy for MisterSmooth. 2012 check list complete.

[veefer800canuck]

Looks like a great trip. Me jellus.

[coho]

Awesome report. Most entertaining.  

[viffergyrl]

I think we need to move the non-meet to Ducati Island. Wait.... I think I'm starting to understand.....  

So for those of us who didn't camp out in Monterey and suffered the ennui of the latest Ducati hype, we enjoyed sitting on the Panigales we found.  

[Mastros2]

Every year I look forward to summer, motorcycle racing season (all disciplines), MisterSmooth's MotoGP ride report and renewing my mix of hatred/envy for MisterSmooth. 2012 check list complete.

+1!  Excellent report. I really enjoy your writing!  

[shil]

Very cool. Thanks for that.

[Kneescrubber]

You sir, are a master storyteller.  

[expatbrit]

I think we need to move the non-meet to Ducati Island. Wait.... I think I'm starting to understand.....  

So for those of us who didn't camp out in Monterey and suffered the ennui of the latest Ducati hype, we enjoyed sitting on the Panigales we found.  

I was just amazed at all the MTS1200s. Well... not really.

Mine never left Fox Hill though.

[Orson]

Only three pictures with Guzzi content   but the entertaining ruminations made up for it  

Great reportage  

[Cablebandit]

Nice.  

[sammyseaman]

Funny with great pics. Me likey. Me likey very much  

[viffergyrl]

Yes - MisterSmooth writes a damn good ride report.   But my, my, my, how quickly it all becomes so..... meh..... about the new new thing!  

Except of course for Guzzis.... which are timeless.  

I'll post up a ride report from us 'southerners' in a couple of days. But it will be just a couple of 14 year old heavy Honda VFRs.... and hardly the urbane wittiness of a MisterSmooth RR. Although one VFR is now sporting a Penske rear shock (which got thoroughly tested!).  

[MisterSmooth]

Only three pictures with Guzzi content   but the entertaining ruminations made up for it  

There must have been 15,000 motorbikes parked at Laguna on race day.  My crew was bird-watching carefully, but between the four of us we counted exactly four Gooses:  A 1997 Daytona (now that's kind of a cool bike), a V11 Sport, a tasty red 1100 Griso, and my '08 1200 Sport.


That's testimony to the hush-hush nature of Moto Guzzi's plan to dominate MotoGP racing!    It's beyond top-secret.

[XLR8]

The storytelling was so good, I almost felt like I was there.  

[flips21]

Only three pictures with Guzzi content  

This is for you Orson:


Mr. Smooth forgot to share just how moto-friendly the Creekside Lodge in Markleeville really is.  Just above a basket with fresh towels and a spray bottle of cleaning solution was this note:



It was an excellent trip.  Almost as good as the write up!

Flip

[R Doug]

There is just too much good stuff here to comment on (especially via an iPad).

So, one word... Brilliant!

[Andrew]

Nicely written & great photos

 Reading your post I am thinking "Dam I should ride down there" heck I live 1/4 mile from HY1

Every year Nice Write Up  

[Major 662]

After a few hours of US freeway I rendezvoused with my men from Boise, Ken (Major 662) and Ron (XLR8).  We had a great dinner in a restaurant called “Burkina Faso” or “Barcalounger” or something like that.

Barbacoa.  Barbacoa!