#japan

By the time you read this, I will be off the clock and lost somewhere on an island, away on a much needed vacation, just the wife and me. The destination? Japan. I’m not bringing my helmet with me, and my only interaction with a motorcycle will be if I bump into one while darting from sushi joint to ramen house. Airplanes, bullet trains and our own two feet will be our method of travel this time around. It’s a little ironic in a way; me being in the middle of a country that has contributed so much to motorcycling, yet choosing to remove myself from two wheels as much as possible. Sometimes, however, the best way to recharge the batteries is to get away from it all. Luckily, there’s more to me than just motorcycles.

It didn’t take years of riding experience to tell the situation was getting out of control. Traffic shot down the narrow highway like a river at flood stage, and we were swept along like so much flotsam and jetsam, knowing that the moment we slowed we would be plowed under. The big trucks pressed in around us, following far too close and even sweeping by us in our own lanes if we dared to leave them enough space to crowd by, the lug nuts on their wheels spinning furiously away mere inches from our shoulders like the teeth of a grinder in search of fresh meat. The further we went, the greater my sense of foreboding became. We needed to get off the road now.

Spotting a young geisha in training, a “maiko” in Japanese, on the streets of Kyoto is always a bit unnerving. Despite her opulent silk kimono and the brightly painted bamboo and paper parasol she carries to shield herself from the heat of the summer sun, the first thing you notice is her lips. They are mesmerizing and you cannot look away. It’s an intentional effect that she has spent months learning to perfect and, against the traditional stark white facial makeup, offset by her dark eyes and framed by her carefully coifed hair, they form a shocking, unnaturally red bow that commands your complete attention.

Cash in hand, I watched as the delivery driver rolled my mighty GSX-R1100 into the back of his truck and then supervised while he fussed and fidgeted with the tie downs that would hold the bike steady on its final trip out of my life and into someone else’s. When the driver was done, I walked around the truck, gave each strap a pull to make sure that everything was right and then watched as he climbed into the cab. As he paused momentarily to check his map, I looked at the wad of bills in my hand and once more at the bike in the back of the truck. I could still stop this, I thought, but deep in my heart I knew it was better this way.

Sick of all the attention the racing gods were getting in the run-up to this weekend’s Japanese Grand Prix, the weather gods put on a show of their own. They sent Typhoon Lekima barreling toward the island on Thursday, summoned a 7.1 earthquake on Friday night, and topped it all off with Typhoon Francisco on Saturday, making a shambles of the weekend practice schedule. Undeterred by the weather, defending world champion Jorge Lorenzo ran a perfect race on Sunday, winning against all odds, and setting up a meaningful season finale in Valenciana. Take THAT, weather gods!

In all likelihood, Repsol Honda rookie Marc Marquez thought he would cement the 2013 premier class title in Australia. The well-publicized fiasco surrounding the tires and the mandatory mid-race pit stop put that vision on hold for a week. How fitting would it be for the boy wonder to recover from the embarrassing Australian flap by winning his first 1000cc championship in front of the factory brass on their home turf?