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.

Oh, Did Someone Say ...

... Sharkfin soup? Guilty as I felt—and I did feel guilty, as I thought of the now-finless shark spiraling down into a dark, rudderless death—this bowl of gelatinous excitement went straight back to the kitchen. Sam Fleming photo

Day 2

Hi, hai--sorry for posting delay.

Kawasaki Good Times World was good times indeed, and the start of what promises to be a series of walk-and-gawk activities that have the 18 journalists on this trip shuffling around like obedient school-kids (while looking signifcantly less cute than the actual school-kids who swarmed KGTW in matching hats).

The museum opened into a hall that chronicled the origins of the 129-year-old company (collectively called Kawasaki Heavy Industries) and offered a glimpse of the surprising range of events and areas they've been involved in since. Of all the ships, robots, bikes, helicopters, and bullet trains on display, though, I have to say I was most impressed with the Kawasaki tunnel-boring machine, responsible for excavating the Eurotunnel from France to England in 1991. Whatever 1/20th scale means, you still have to stand in awe of the kind of technology that shrinks cars to fit through a football-sized passage. Then again, a Rubik's-cube solving robot is nothing to sneeze at—nor is an '07 ZX-6R, whether you're a moto-journalist or a 7-year-old Japanese school-girl.

Post-Good Times World, it was back on the bus for a ride to KHI's Akashi Works plant, which is not only the source of "leisure products" (like motorcycles) familiar to U.S. consumers, but also responsible for bohemoth projects like fabricating one of the two main towers of Japan's Akashi Kaikyo Bridge, which boasts the longest span of any suspension bridge in the world and did a first-rate job of getting our bus from one side of the Akashi Straight to the other.

Once the bus arrived at Akashi Works, we were quickly outfitted in jackets, hard hats, and ear-pieces for a tour that wove in-and-out of various motorcycle assembly lines, the noise and bustle of which didn't obscure the obvious efficiency of a system that allows several different models of bike to be assembled on the same line. Cameras weren't allowed in the facility—and won't be in any of the other factories we tour, either—but some stock photos are apparently winging their way home for use in a later RRX article, and hopefully they'll convey some of the wonder of seeing motorcycles careen overhead while you jump to avoid racks of tanks, fairings, and forks that have somewhere to be. In the meantime, I think you'll be pretty well satisfied with this excellent sketch I just did, though I admit it doesn't speak to the remarkable strangeness of hearing alerts that sound like ice-cream-truck music occasionally flutter down on a floor full of serious, fast-moving laborers. And yes, as someone pointed out, it kind of looks like the bad end of a stockyard.

Still Day -2 Through Day 1 ...

Okay, it seemed wise to go ahead and try posting that first fragment below, but once I had, I couldn't figure out which string of Japanese characters meant "edit." Since I'm (just barely) bright enough to understand what a large, green, plus-sign button means, however, I'm going to settle for adding on instead.

The image above, by the way, is the view from my hotel room. Beside me on the desk is a laminated card that reads, "As the strong winds accompanying the approaching low pressure may cause a variety of slightly rasping structural sounds along with a subtle back-and-forth movement, allow us to notify you that this is a natural response of the flexible, but durable, construction required to enable a sky-scraper such as the hotel to withstand the effects of earthquake and typhoon...." and then goes on to politely ask that guests refrain from calling the front desk in the event of said rasping. The word "exit" is also painted on my 20th-story window.

Happily, there are a lot of other things to look at in this room, like this gold bedside table I'm officially obsessed with: In a nod to the kind of futuristic houses and lifestyle we were promised in the 1950s and '60s, its shiny buttons can open and close the drapes; pipe classical, smooth jazz, or the Star Wars theme into your room and/or bathroom; wake you up in the morning; turn the room lights on and off; illuminate the area underneath the table and bed; and call for a masseuse. Also, the toilet seats are heated—a strange but not objectionable experience.

Warm toilet seats aside, Kawasaki's hospitality was actually in full effect long before the plane left LAX for Tokyo, hence the title of this entry. As long-time sponsors of Infineon Raceway's AMA round—known formally as the Kawasaki Superbike Showdown—both Saturday and Sunday nights of the event featured the soon-to-be-famous Kawasaki Mini-Moto ... your only chance to see drag race world champ Rickey Gadson face-off against road race legend Jimmy Felice on kid-sized dirt bikes. With Speed TV personality Greg White doing exceptionally snarky commentary throughout the evening (I'm here to tell you that he used the phrase "razzle-dazzle" twice), you'll understand why I don't have a clue what the finishing results were. From the look of this photo, however, it's clear that Gadson won something that gave him the right to sneer at the crowd.

Big kudos to Kawasaki's Jeff Herzog, who designed the course—which featured table-tops, an uphill section, switchbacks, and more—on a dinner napkin and then made it real in the best way. Built on a family farm just six miles from Infineon (guess how happy the three dirt-bike-riding kids who live there are about it), the track is now a permanent fixture and the Mini-Moto itself an annual tradition.

The day after the AMA road racers left the Infineon Raceway track, media and local Kawasaki dealers and riders swarmed onto it within the framework of a Sportbike Track Time/Kawasaki track-day event. Infineon is a really fun track to ride, thanks in large part to the elevation changes of its first section, and with about seven hours of available track time and cool, sunny weather, it was the kind of day that makes you grateful to be a motorcycle rider. I was feeling particularly happy to be circling on an '07 cherry red ZX-6R, but the bike was perhaps less happy to have me as a rider after I lowsided in a right-hander at the crest of a hill. I had a chance to really admire that clear, blue sky while sliding off the track alongside the bike; then I hit the grass, and as the world went ground-sky-ground-sky-ground-sky, I reflected on how completely in love I am with modern gear, which kept me surprisingly comfortable during the duration of what I'm pretty sure was a 20-minute slide 'n' tumble. The most uncomfortable thing about my first crash, in fact, was the ride of shame back to the hot pits. Plus, there's really nothing like scraping part of the "X" in Road Racer X off the rear of your leathers to injure your pride (and transform you into a freaked-out, flinching field-mouse for the next hour or so).

That's about it for me this morning—we're due in the lobby in a half-hour to start a day of touring "Kawasaki Good Times World" and the Akashi Works factory, and presumably there's coffee down there somewhere. This blog should become somewhat more coherent in the days ahead, during which we'll move from Kobe to Hakata to Kumamoto and more, visiting a slew of Kawasaki facilities as well as a round of the All-Japan Road Race Championship. I'm looking forward to starting the day ... peering down from my hotel window, I can see as many bicycles, motorcycles, and scooters as I can cars, and there's something kind of wonderful about a world with that many two-wheelers in it.

Days -2 Through 1

Greetings from Kobe, Japan, where I'm currently installed on the 20th floor of Hotel Okura Kobe with a cup of green tea, a view of Kobe Harbor, and a distinct conviction that it's either Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. Adding to my confusion is the fact that all the instructions for this blog are suddenly showing up in Japanese instead of English, so here's hoping I actually manage to publish this thing.