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