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The contrast between image and reality extends to the Daytona 200 race where Scot Russell runs away with his fifth victory in six years in front of a sparse crowd perched high above the famous banked track. Earlier in the day a Triumph T595 and a Buell 1200 had fought tooth and nail for the lead (which the Triumph eventually held) in the Pro-Thunder race creating a genuine buzz of excitement that failed to materialise for the ‘200 miler’ main event. Billed as the most prestigious motorcycle race in the world, the atmosphere is strangely subdued and the field of riders (with a few notable exceptions) barely world-class. As each VR1000 (Harley Davidson’s Superbike racer) loses touch with the leading pack, the crowd’s enthusiasm dips until spectators start heading for the exits to miss the rush of traffic when the racing ends. The reality and danger of riding a bike at two hundred miles per hour on a steeply banked race track fails to impress the race-goers, who travel home having enjoyed the motorcycle experience in a safe, clean and controlled environment. That night a hurricane hits Florida, sweeping the streets of the last remains of Bike Week, and clearing the way for ‘Spring Break’ and the thousands of students who will descend on Daytona Beach for their week of partying and cruising. Fluorescent bikinis replace black tee shirts in the shop windows, and Tecno Bass Beats replace ZZ Top in the bars. Being at Daytona without a motorcycle should be a frustrating experience, but it isn’t. Those who have flown to the Isle of Man, hitch-hiked to the Kent Show or taken a bus trip to the Bol D’Or will know how the longing for a two wheeled journey home can hurt. Speed Week isn’t that kind of event. It’s unique, bizarre, fascinating. But ultimately, it’s about all of the periphery of motorcycling with very little of the core. Back to the index... |
© 1998 Martin Gelder