Track, Bikes, Palms

Last weekend in pictures, mostly.

One Day General Admission

All sorts of things kept me from doing the full MotoGP weekend, but I took Friday off, charged up the Zero, and headed to the track. I felt I’d be punished for wasting such a beautiful day not riding out to COTA. Free motorcycle parking is a joy, though still a hike to the entrance.

Gear check and Couch Potatoes

I forgot to leave my pocket knife at home, so was denied entry. Fortunately, the Christian Motorcyclists had their gear check behind the main gate (by the oddly placed potatoes). I stuck the knife in my jacket pocket, stuffed it in one of the provided trash bags and was on my way, no charge, no proselytizing. Thanks, Christian Motorcyclists!

Hashtag made manifest on Earth Prime.
Pulpo Mecánico, though not shooting flames at the time. Replaces the Evel Kneivel rocket.
FP2
More FP2

I got my dosage of prototype motorcycles. I’ll always try to get to live racing, for at least these reasons: The smell of exotic hydrocarbons (at least one team is running synthetic fuel), the brilliance of the colors of the livery are always a thousand times more vivid, and the sound. I wasn’t there long enough to do much exploring, but just this little taste will be a booster until next year.

Also, I encountered PHANTOM CHARGING on trip to the track on my Zero. It’s about 40 miles round trip from my house to COTA, and I did it on the Zero before, just last October. I left the house with a 95% charge and arrived at the track with about 45%. A little worrying. When I saddled up to ride home, I had 63%, which was good until I was a couple of blocks from home and it was reading 3%. Checked it a couple hours later, and it was at 36%. Classic phantom charging, which is a drag since the fix is a trip to the dealer (which I just did a couple of weeks ago to get a new rear tire). We will see.

Saturday we went to the Handbuilt Motorcycle Show at the site of the old Austin American Statesman HQ on Congress and the river.

Exquisite

It was great to have the very sociable Julie along who started chatting with the maker of this amazing machine.

The shape of the carbon fiber “tank” – chef’s kiss.
Birdcage BMW R18 – Smaller than I expected.
Zero!
Zero! I can appreciate a nice orange metal flake.
Hey, a Bonneville!

I ate a T-Loc Sonoran hot dog, and saw too many exotic cars prowling up and down Congress and Cesar Chavez.

On Sunday, a moving church service.

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