A little late, but I did go to the US round of MotoGP a couple of weeks ago. It’s the first time I’d been in a while, which is a shame, since it is in my home town. For qualifying, I rode the Zero and worried about range, when I really shouldn’t have. I put the SR/F in eco-mode down there, but dialed in sport mode on the way back, after quickly realizing that eco mode is speed limited. A Charger SuperBee asked me about the bike while at a stop light, figuring that only electric bikes around were Harleys. Zero has been around for a while, but for my money, the SR/S and SR/F were the only ones that looked like real street motorcycles, and had the big battery, big motor, and level 2 charging. I love my Zero, and it did stand out in the sea of BMW GSs in the motorcycle lot.

It had been long enough since I’d been to the racing that I forgot the excitement walking to the track, excitement brewed from the sound of a dozen prototype machines wailing and whiff of exotic petrochemicals, with woody undertones of burnt rubber and fried foods.

This race was the third time at COTA, and I’ve gone from General Admission (ending up at the esses – turns 5 to 8 or so), grandstand (which was fun to watch the pits, excellent Jumbotron, comfortable seats, and shade) to the bleachers at Turn 12. Despite the full sun and cramped aluminum seating, Turn 12 provided an excellent point to watch both qualifying and the race, as the riders have to brake hard to negotiate the tight corner. You could see the rear wheel of Marquez’ RC213V hover over the rippled tarmac leading into the corner. You could hear the Desmoseidicis bang down through the gears, and you could see the Yamahas gracefully kiss the apex, Fabio’s elbow skimming the inside rumble strip. You could also see the KTMs never quite figure it out. I saw Pol go down, but pop back up pretty quickly.

The race was pretty typical for COTA when Marquez doesn’t fall. We did see Nakagami lowside, but get back up and make his way back up through the pack. He earned some fans. We saw pole sitter Bagnaia make some passes on his way to the podium.

A highlight for me was Marquez grabbing a Nicky Hayden flag on his cool down lap. I found out that despite the yellow smoke, we were sitting in the Marquez section, resplendent with 93 and 73 flags. An Marc saluted the fans with tire smoke.

It was hot, the riders complained that the track was bumpy, and the actual race was not a thriller. It did feel good. Someone once compared live motorsports to medieval tournaments: riders coming from far away, tribes identifying themselves though their dress, and colored flags to represent your champion.