The smell of spent lubricants and burnt rubber made us think we were in some sort of pornography district outside of Sydney, not spending the day at the races. Then, as we rounded the bin, it was crystal clear where we were… the races. We could see them; we could smell them and we could hear them loud and clear. Although there were more geezers in leather than I’ve seen at any Judas Priest concert, and there were a few underage looking girls cruising the pits eating foot long sausages in one bite. We saw NO sausage stand all day, so you decide for your self.

It was mad, with bikes as far as the eye could see. To say these bikes were ‘suped up’ for hauling ass is an understatement. There were vintage bikes, stock bikes, custom bikes and our personal favorite: ‘the side hacks’. There were old guy teams that have been taking the tight turns together for years, nothing but respect and trust. There were husband and wife teams and god knows you better not be getting on that bike with any unresolved issues when that flag drops.  And then we saw it, the all woman team. Two strong hearted ladies who lay down the law in this very testosterone driven day. They looked so tuff, yet elegant as they flew down the track burying their noses deep in the corners. We think the bike was called “Hear Us Coming” (they had a very loud exhaust), but we’re not to sure…

In all seriousness, these good folks at the races were full of smiles and stories for all to enjoy. They did not blink an eye when we walked in to their pits, snooped at their rides, and answered all the questions we had, even the stupid ones (mostly Tyler’s). What they do for their own adrenaline rush, as we watch in awe, is top notch and my hat is off to them. A big thank you to all the good folks we talked with at the races that day.   We’ll see you next year… I may even be in leather chaps.