Day 5

This picture rightfully belongs back on day two, but since it just showed up today and I've been waiting for a while to get it in, here goes.

I generally rebel against wearing matching outfits, but somehow I'm pleased by the tidy symmetry of our group as shown here, about to tour Akashi Works (i.e. the place where Kawasaki motorcycles are born). I also generally rebel against wearing communal clothing and/or hats on the basis of good hygiene, but felt quite freshly laundered in my Akashi jacket and very own hard-hat liner.

Fast forward a few days, and we're waking up in Kumamoto (view of Kumamoto Castle from hotel room at left), about to re-board the big-plush-bus for the winding, hour-and-a-half drive to Autopolis, the Kawasaki-owned racetrack that's playing host to round 4 of the All Japan road race series.

When it comes to motorsports, Autopolis may be the best track you've never heard of—a GP-worthy circuit built by a mad Japanese millionaire in a beautiful but remote (and fairly inaccessible) area on the most southerly of Japan's main islands. From the balcony of the Kawasaki suites, the paddock looked plenty familiar—EZ-Ups, bright yellow Dunlop trucks, the familiar colors of all four major manufacturers, spectators clustering in front of team tents—but once you started pounding asphalt, you began to see—and smell—the differences. (You'll come up short on hamburgers at this venue, but you can fill up on the bento box of your choice.)

At right is a page from the event program, which contained an entertaining mix of English and Japanese that sometimes left the meaning unclear, but never the spirit. In the upper-right corner of the page you'll see Autopolis' infamous umbrella-girl dolls— four-inch-high wonders that are even now grinning lasciviously in the darkness of several journalists' duffel bags, ready to be unleashed Stateside in pairs, trios, and even flouncy quartets.

Fully aware that we'd have the awe-inspiring, mountain-top track all to ourselves the next day, the veteran riders in the group spent most of the races saying things to each other like, "Okay, see how if you go to the outside right there then you can take that next left-hander really fast?" and noting the Japanese racers' lap times for future comparison against their own. I looked at the very long front straight a lot, then looked at the first turn a lot, then shuddered once or twice, feeling waves of post-crash field-mouse wash over me.

As always, though, there were plenty of other things to look at, and with Green Team hero (and former MotoGP development- and World Superbike rider) Akira Yanagawa having won the previous round, the Kawasaki fan section—all furiously waving neon-green flags—made some decent noise welcoming the Superbike riders to the grid. I'll save the rest of the action for the actual magazine, but please observe as Akira demonstrates that Monster Energy Kawasaki's Jamie Hacking isn't the only rider comfortable enough with his masculinity to truck with stuffed animals. In fact, I think Akira's green teddy bear solidly trumps Jamie's plush bulldog hat. As does his umbrella girl, natch.

One thing that really impressed me about the series was how accessible riders were to fans. AMA, World Superbike, and MotoGP watchers alike are used to the phenomenon of disappearing racers—those who mysteriously evaporate when not actually on the track. At the opposite end of the spectrum are the Japanese Superbike riders, who push their bikes out of their garages post-race and pose for photographs for about 15 or 20 minutes, allowing fans to snap photos and shake hands (or bow) until ushered out of the hot pits by track workers who herd them up-and-out with a long rope. The fans, in turn, lavish their attention not only on the top riders, but on the rest of the field as well. Win-win.

After another long and twisty bus-ride back to Kumamoto—time well spent placing bets on whose nausea would hit first—it was up to hotel's restaurant for dinner, during which I was finally able to answer that nagging question, What do you do with an unidentifiable, shaggy piece of supposedly vegetarian delight? Hide it under that greenish sac of tofu covered in membrane-like netting, of course.

Sam Fleming photo

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary ...

I feel like Edgar Allan Poe references are pretty much mandatory where ravens are involved.

And I've just received #10 e-mail asking what the word and symbols mean on the crow in my Sam Fleming-snapped profile picture. According to my friend Kuni, the crow's sign says "under construction," which makes A) sense, since it was taken outside a renovation project at Kumamoto Castle, and B) a much better kanji-tattoo than those I see most people sporting.

Thanks to everyone who's commented and sent e-mails so far. It's really nice to have RRX readers along for the trip.

Day 4

Day four required minimal physical effort but offered lots of opportunities to watch the Japanese countryside slide by, as the only thing we were expected to do was pile into various forms of transportation and drink Pocari Sweat.

Our previous tour of Hyogo Works had made us connoisseurs of aerodynamic bullet-train shells, smooth bogies (i.e. chassis), and the kind of public transport that reaches speeds of 285 kilometers per hour, so we were well-equipped to appreciate the Series 700 model we boarded in Kobe, taking over most of one car and cramming giant Ogio gear bags onto shelves above the other (now dismayed) passengers. Kawasaki's hard-working PR Manager, Jan Plessner, quickly cleaned out all available stock of miniature bullet trains so that each journalist could have one (as most had by now regressed to spoiled children anyway); in the picture at top, Jan mugs with Speed TV's Neale Bayly—an exceptionally friendly guy who's known to sometimes fake an English accent.

After disembarking in Hakata, it was onto another bus for the last leg of the day's journey, which dropped us at Hotel Nikko Kumamoto after winding around the city's most famous and dominant landmark, Kumamoto Castle. Originally built in 1607, it was passed (not politely) from clan to clan throughout the next few centuries, various sections of it were burned to the ground several times, and it was the site of Japan's 1877 civil war, which all mainstream theater-goers know had a lot to do with Tom Cruise.

It added up to one serious, aesthetically beautiful piece of history, and the castle's organic wood-and-stone construction was a nice contrast to the metal-focused modern technology we'd been admiring for the past few days. And after studying the period samurai uniforms on display in the castle's museum, it became clear that an army of Laurels vs. an army of samurais would result in an entirely bloodless battle. They could pretty much just call and say they were coming.

The history theme continued into the evening, when we were taken out for a traditional sit-down Japanese dinner (sit way down) complete with geisha—a woman who first danced for the group, then sat down among some suddenly flummoxed American males, who soon became—perhaps for the first time in their lives—utterly fascinated by and committed to conversation about the process of arranging hair and applying makeup.

Lilliputian

In honor of the massive scale presented by the below-mentioned Kobe Works shipbuilding operation, I'd like to offer this photo-review of Japanese miniatures: mini-mermaid (found on mini-train exhibit in Kawasaki Good Times World); mini-castle; mini fake-food; and mini bullet train.

Day 3

Having just received a few Infineon pics from Kawasaki's PR agency, I'd like to start this entry with a photo of myself and the aforementioned red '07 ZX-6R in happier times. Sigh.

And on: Day three comprised two more tours of which I currently have no photographic evidence, but I shudder with pleasure at the thought that with the next delivery from Kawi PR, I will perhaps be able to show off jacketed, hard-hatted, and ear-pieced group shots—the picture definition of "esprit de dork"—as well as monumentally impressive images of giant ships whose hallowed interiors feature engines the size of submarines (KHI also makes submarines, actually) with spare pistons hanging on the wall that dwarf me by a factor of three. (Please see very excellent sketch below.)

Touring the Kawasaki Shipbuilding Corp.'s Kobe Works shipyard was an exercise in Lilliputian star-gazing (or at least looking up a lot), with the awe enhanced by the buzz of fresh-paint inhalation. It was also a look at the birthplace of today's KHI, since it was the first enterprise undertaken by founder Shozo Kawasaki, who opened the Kawasaki Tsukiji Shipyard in 1878. By 1902 the company had completed an enormous dry dock—a huge, risky undertaking that took three times longer than expected—which guaranteed the company's future by allowing them to ramp up capacity (accommodating ships up to 6,000 gross tonnage), and which is now listed as a "Registered Tangible Cultural Asset of Japan."

From there it was on to the Hyogo Works, another venerable piece of the KHI empire. Opened in 1906, it today manufacturers "rolling stock," which makes me and every other second-grader imagine cows rolling down a hill but puts normal people in mind of sleek, high-tech bullet trains and even New York City subway cars. Again, no pictures allowed, but please enjoy this sketch of men welding an almost-completed Shinkansen 700 model.

The real highlight of the day was yet to come, however—and stinky, rain-soaked, bedraggled journalists were strongly encouraged to shower for it. Dinner that evening was on the 32nd floor of KHI's Kobe HQ, aka Crystal Tower, with Senior Vice President Shinichi Tamba and others. The view was incredible, the surroundings opulent, and the food was both never-ending and a never-ending source of amazement (a statement that's open to interpretation depending on the relative sophistication of your palate). It was great to finally meet our hosts, who offered us an incredibly warm reception and were happy to sit down and talk casually not just about their company, but about their lives, city, ideas, etc. Considering the surroundings, it was a really relaxed, enjoyable evening, punctuated by the occasional champagne-cup of seafood pudding topped with sea urchin. At right is a Sam Fleming shot of me with Mr. Tamba, whose open friendliness was a stark contrast to the buttoned-up demeanor often associated with top-level executives in Japan, where corporate culture is traditionally more formal.

Speaking of buttons, this photo was taken after dinner, hence my unbuttoned jacket. I was full of anything-but-seafood-pudding-please.