-
Street
isNeat
TranSPORTationl
Never thought I would see the day
when road racing would rival dirt
racing for spectator appeal, but it's
happening now. Even on the west
coast, where clip-oIlS and fairings used
to keep customen away like rain,
crowds of 15 and 20 thousand have
turned out lately for the pavement
grinden races.
Having America's reigning world's
champion on the program didn't hun
the ticket sales, of course, but I suspect
there is something stirring out there
among tbe audience for road racing
sport. America finally may be ready
for it.
Never before in history have so
many big, powerful motorcycles been
offered. The dirt spon is increasingly
restricted at a time when many
Americans are taking two wheels to
the road in response to tbe crunch. We
need something good to root for.
Your average bigtime road race
offen the street rider a made to order
destination. There usually is camping,
often free. There are the races, of
course. But best of all I like the spirit
in the air of everybody giving it their
best shot. It is dangerous out there,
lUre. Nobody undentands danger like
a biker does. But we came not to see
anyone fail, because any fool can fall
off - no, we came to see how othen
IUCceed at speeds that we only dream
about.
I like tbe superbikes best. You can
be way over in the shade taking it easy
with a cool one wben you hear that
mighty sound. You don't need an
announcer to tell you, that's the biggie
on the line.
Superbikea look like the tanks in tbe
parking lot, minus bags and fairings
and gone to heaven, where they have
been given numben and decals and
shiny things that do wonden for their
worlts. They are piloted by harlequin
devils on whom immortality is
conferred, and brief exemption from
the laws of physics that the rest of us
ride under.
. When it's all over, I don't even care
who won. They don't let SO-inch
Harleys race, anyway.
Then comes the best pan - the ride
home. I shake the straw out of my
sleeping bag and bungee it on the
bike. Tbere is not any class you can
ride a Harley SO in, but one: the
parade out of the parking lot. The
motorcycle is made for it.
•
We've never lost a parade yet.
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