INDIANAPOLIS MOTOR SPEEDWAY 2009 MOTOGP REVIEW

I have always wanted to attend a MotoGP, but Laguna Seca is so far away and the weather is so hot there that it has never had much appeal to me. Besides, I am an East-Coast kind of guy. :) When it was announced that the event was coming to Indy, I knew I was destined to go; and when Vicki Smith announced the Project Mugello, the suspense was over. Fortunately, I was strong enough to consider even riding up, so it was with great anticipation I planned on going.

As the event became clearer in my mind, it was obvious I would have to trailer up. I needed to be there earlier than I had planned, and with the large club area Vicki planned, I needed to bring lots of stuff. I booked my room, found roommates and a travel partner, and I was all set. The great wisdom of my decision to trailer up rather than ride came in the form of Ike. A late season hurricane that headed up the interior of our country rather than its usual coastal path left us traveling almost all day in the rain. Good planning! :)

David Grogan, who doubles as our magazine's proofreader [Saving Jim from mistakes such as his spelling proofreader as two words-DG], joined me for the trip. Nothing like ten hours in a car to get to know someone you already thought you knew. Most of the rain was in the dark; we departed at four, so it was very dark. Somehow it always managed to clear up when we needed to stop for gas, and the trip went smoothly. We arrived at the track early enough to unload all our club stuff at the track and head to the hotel. It was unfortunate that David had a separate hotel from mine, but it was within walking distance so was not a real problem.

Friday, we rode to the track in a light rain and got to park in the Ducati-only parking right in the Ducati area. There was a special tent to check your gear, which was good because most of the riders had lots of it in an attempt to stay dry. The booth area was covered, and one of the local clubs had provided tables and chairs. We shared our booth with the Ducati Owners Club of Canada and long-time friends Steven and Linda Warburton. They have been to many US DESMO events, so it was like old home week.

The whole day saw rain off and on, but it was not heavy, and we got to see a lot of the exhibitors and other clubs. The traffic through our booth was pretty heavy all day long, and we signed up a few new members, renewed a few more, and gave away a bunch of magazines. That was good, because I had brought up about four hundred and did not want to try to carry them back on my bike. :) The club was fortunate to have many members come and volunteer to help man or woman the booth. This allowed me to wander around some and see all the bikes, displays, and some of the practice sessions.

Friday night was the Hill House East dinner. For those of you unfamiliar, a group of Ducatisti has a tradition of renting a house, on a hill of course, at Laguna Seca and then subletting floor space to pay for it. They also have a dinner on Friday night, and George Betzhold wanted to carry this tradition to the Indy MotoGP. Well, George outdid himself with wonderful Italian food and over 200 participants. Notables like Cook Neilson, Phil Shilling, and Paul Smart came to join the cognoscenti. That turned out to be fortunate for me, because I had carried up the tail section to my Ducati Paul Smart Sport Classic. Paul was very gracious to sign it for me and even posed for several pictures. This is the first time I have ever thought about having a signature on one of my bikes, and it is the right bike and person to be sure.

Beer and wine flowed freely all night, and it was a very nice party. No one did anything they could not tell their mother about, and several exotic bikes were to be seen and heard. It was a last-minute idea that went off without an apparent hitch. I say that because I saw the look on George's face all night worrying about a problem. Good job, George. Now all you have to do is outdo yourself next year. :)

Saturday brought some sunshine and more people to the event. Part of my commitment to Vicki was to help man the hospitality tent. Well, I went over and the staff that was on duty first would not let me in. They are instructed to require a registration, and I had only my Ducati key with me. Fortunately, I had my registration under my seat. I asked if I went over and started my bike up-it was about fifteen feet from their table-if that would be enough. The lady I was talking to looked at me very strangely but did not say anything. I went to walk to my bike when someone said, "He is OK; that is Jim Calandro!" The young lady was not impressed, but she let the other gentleman put on my arm band. Too bad Vicki has been forced to use these new rules. Apparently people have been passing around keys to get people in who were not entitled to have access. No Ducati registration, no service! David Grogan did "lend" his two Ducati registrations to Gerhard Alf and his son, Kevin, two US DESMO members who are Ducati owners but had not brought their registrations-breaking the letter of the rules but not their spirit.

Later in the day when I was working that same table, I was looking for arm bands on those who were walking though and stopped one person who did not have one. The person who was with him said, "You have got to be kidding. Do you know who he is?" Well, not really, because I was looking at his wrist rather than his face. But looking up, I instantly recognized the distinctive look of Larry Pegram. I explained that he really needs an arm band, because his wrists looked just like anyone else's. Larry, showing that he has a sense of humor, said, "You should be able to tell it was me by all the scars!" When he left the hospitality area later, he was quick to show me his scars. Larry is a good man and does not have an exaggerated sense of self. I like that.

Sunday was the long red snake ride to the track from Ducati of Indy. Not as many bikes showed up as Vicki had hoped for, but it was both early and looked like rain. We had around 100 bikes, so of course we left a little later than planned. We all had directions, so if we got separated we could still find the track. As we left and started to pick up speed on the main road, I saw something go flying by my helmet. I thought to myself that looks like a ticket to the race and some poor sap has just had it fly out of his pocket. Do I stop for it and loose the group?

Well, within 100 feet not only do I see the poor sap by the side of the road, but I realize it is my poor sap, David Grogan! :-0 I pulled over and told him I saw it come out and where I thought it was. David hot-footed it up the road, and I stayed with both bikes. He was about half-way there when a local police car stopped by to check on us. I figured he was going to give us a hard time for stopping in an area where we should not be, but instead he was concerned to see a biker running up the road in full gear and helmet and was wondering if there was an accident or injury. I reassured him it was only a logistical problem and we were OK and thanked him for his concern.

By then David had returned huffing and puffing but with ticket in hand. Of course the group was long gone, and we just followed the directions we had. What was a real concern was spotting the turn before we went past it. There are no early warning signs to tell you what road is coming up, and all the roads were at a less than 90 degree angle, so the signs were hard to read. All of a sudden we could see a large group of bikes up ahead, and we caught them just as they turned onto the highway that led to the track. The good news is the police had all the side streets blocked, and we just sailed into the track. The rain even held off, so the day started well. Too bad it did not last.

After getting to see some exciting qualifying in the dry, it looked like a wet race. I am sure you have seen the race on television and know how it all went, but you cannot appreciate the weather if you were not there. Sure a lot of rain fell, but the wind was something to behold. It blew bikes over and knocked down a very large tent Yamaha had set up. We saw a lot of ambulances going to that site. Valentino is impressive at everything he does and is a great showman. Nicky Hayden gave us hope for his future both as one of the few American riders but also as a future Ducati rider. Casey Stoner was injured, and we could see at his autograph sessions he was in pain. His wrist was bandaged, and he kept it off the table. Not a good sign.

Despite the torrential rain and winds, the crowd at the Ducati area remained large all day. There were a lot of the unwashed who came by to see all the red bikes. Well, they are not all red-my Monster is silver-but you get the idea. :) We even had a visit by Gabriele Del Torchio, the CEO of Ducati, who came by to say a few words to us. Pictures were taken for sure. All our club hats, stickers, patches, and watches were sold, and we had only about five magazines left at the end of the day!

We were fortunate our ride back to the hotel was uneventful. Lots of downed tree limbs and leaves, but it did not rain at all. We elected to take surface streets to avoid the traffic heading to the interstate, plus riding on the interstate with all the construction and the high side winds did not seem like a good plan.

Our trip home on Monday was very anticlimactic. No rain, no rush, and no gas! We were fine in all of the more northern states, but once we reached North Carolina, we had no gas. We called a club member to see if he knew where we might get some, but he was not home. Maybe he ran out of gas? We took a back road hoping it was just an interstate problem, but that did not help. Heading back to the interstate, with the low-fuel light having graced us with its cheery glow for about 20 miles, we not only found a gas station with gas but dinner too. The Pizza Hut next door had a woman stationed under an easy-up with pizza for sale. Anything you wanted as long as it was a large pepperoni. Henry Ford would have been proud of her. :) We ate and drove home very tired but glad to have some gas in our tank and an end to our adventure. Would we do it again? In a heartbeat!

Jim
il Capo

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