I grew up watching Irish road racing where I could walk around the paddock (read “field”) and ask superstars like Michael Dunlop for their autographs. And I’ve seen the pinnacle riders of my generation race the most advanced two-wheeled machinery in the form of MotoGP bikes at COTA.
Those racing series have their places. But my weekend at MotoAmerica gave me a more immersive experience than I thought possible for anyone who wasn’t a motorcycle racer. And the event instilled emotions in me that I would never have expected to feel throughout a race weekend.
At first, I felt ashamed for growing up and looking down on MotoAmerica. I’ve always been a fan of MotoGP and kept a vague eye on World Superbike (WorldSBK), but didn’t follow MotoAmerica. Then, I was overcome with excitement because an environment like this still exists. Finally, I felt a hint of jealousy toward all the US citizens, who can just go and enjoy a full MotoAmerica weekend by booking a day off and some flights. But I'm left with a question.
Do you Americans know what you have here?
Open Paddock
Imagine you were at a music festival, and all the artists had open canopy tents scattered around with the music goers.
You could watch them warm up, tune their instruments, and talk to the sound engineers literally a few feet away from you. This is what’s happening at MotoAmerica but with racers, motorcycles, mechanics, and every anodized part that features in a gearhead’s wet dreams.
You can stand a few feet away from Josh Herrin’s Ducati V4 R, watching it go from a skeletal frame to a race-winning machine, and follow it as the mechanics roll it up to the starting grid. You’ll have to stop following the mechanics just shy of the grid, but still, you get an immersive motorcycle racing experience second only to racing yourself.
And that’s just the beginning.
As I was trying to grasp the concept of this open paddock environment, I got sucked into watching the King of the Baggers Challenge race on one of the TVs in a tent. Before I knew it, Wayne Rainey, MotoAmerica’s President, and three-time 500cc World Championship winner, was next to me watching the same race. Two minutes later, a random couple joined us. We shared oohs and ahhs during the 3-lap sprint race as panniers cracked, smashed, and flew open before the race leader went wide on the last corner and lost the race.
All four of us, soundlessly sharing in what was some of the most enthralling racing I’d seen in years, before Rainey broke the silence with, “That was a bad mistake”. And then I had a thought, “What the hell is going on here?”, which I said silently after realizing Rainey was talking to me about a race we just watched together.
Nothing like this is happening in any other major motorcycle championship in the world. Saying that you get to peek behind the curtain of professional racing is an understatement. You’re behind the curtain, a step away from being in the mix.
Again, I ask, do you know what you have here?
I could’ve spent my time at MotoAmerica wandering the paddock with the hope that I’d run into more of my motorcycling heroes, but what was on offer trackside was just too damn interesting.
A Weekend of Peaks
If everything else about a MotoAmerica weekend was similar to a MotoGP or WorldSBK event, I would have still left in awe, thanks to the open paddock experience. But the folks behind MotoAmerica have engineered the on-track activities to be equally as exciting and unconventional. The racing is so diverse that it’s difficult to know what the main event is.
That’s part of the beauty.
You’re not told what the highlight of your weekend should be—you get to decide that for yourself. And that’s not generally the case.
Motorcycle race weekends usually crescendo. You’re always being led to the main race, whether it’s the premier class in MotoGP or the Superbike race at the Isle of Man TT. But at MotoAmerica, I felt like I was experiencing a series of peaks because each racing class had a uniqueness that reinvigorated my interest every time the starting lights went out.
It felt like I was at a Michelin-star restaurant having 12 courses. Each course is special and exists in its own world, all while being part of a grander experience. After the meal, there’s no right or wrong answer as to what was your favorite. In comparison, a weekend at another top racing series is like a regular 3-course dinner—there’s unquestionably one highlight, the main course, and if it’s not good, the whole meal is a letdown.
When MotoAmerica introduced the SuperHooligan and King of the Baggers series (KOTB), it didn’t simply add more races to the calendar—it changed how you experience the weekend for the better.
I won't go into the ins and outs of each class, but I’ll give some takeaways that I wish I had known, starting by saying that everyone who has spoken negatively to me about the KOTB series has never seen a race in person.
If they had, they wouldn’t have anything bad to say.
I wasn’t anti-KOTB, but I never tried to understand it, nor did I really want to. What a surprise it was then when I left Laguna Seca naming it as my favorite class of the entire weekend. The racing was closer than anything else I watched, the bikes got more bent out of shape than the other classes, and there was a more raw, intense, visceral bang each time they rounded a corner. Since watching the first KOTB race, it became like a drug, and I wanted more throughout the weekend.
The KOTB series gave me the adrenaline hitter I was after, but it was the SuperHooligan series that hit me on an emotional level.
I discovered the backstory of the SuperHooligans and the fact that it’s essentially open to anyone who can qualify. If you do well enough in regional races, you can get your MotoAmerica credentials and try to qualify for a MotoAmerica SuperHooligan race. Fall within the qualifying time and you’re racing against the top racers in the US on their factory machines. For a regular Joe Gearhead, that could be a life’s ambition realized.
I increasingly found myself looking mid-pack for the guys who were clearly privateers and worked on their bikes, imagining the story behind them. Hell, I even saw an SV650 on the grid, which unfortunately retired before the race started, and I felt that.
It was an emotional, bordering on physical journey. It might seem strange to say that it’s physical, but each of the four classes at Laguna Seca (SuperHooligan, KOTB, SuperSport, and SuperBike) have their own unique parts of the track where these machines shine brightest, and I found myself rushing around the track to catch 600-pound baggers squirting out of the corkscrew and then back to turn four to watch the hooligans lift the front with a quick turn of direction.
Under the California sun, my heart was beating from a mixture of excitement and physical exertion, and each time I found the perfect corner that highlighted the best attributes of a class, I felt rewarded for the sweat running down my brow.
Just as it was time to decompress and ponder the new styles of racing I’d witnessed, it was time for the superbikes to take flight. But it’s not just superbikes, it’s superbikes at Laguna Seca, yanno, the track that racing fans have been dying to bring MotoGP back to for about 15 years? Well, MotoAmerica superbikes are lapping about a second off what MotoGP bikes were before Laguna Seca was knocked off the calendar, and WorldSBK hasn’t raced there in five years.
American race fans, you have motorcycle racing at Laguna Seca. And not only do you have it, but no other two-wheeled racing series in the world laps this circuit faster than the MotoAmerica SuperBike class.
I’m not ashamed to say it, I’m jealous of what you have. I was one of the people lamenting over the absence of MotoGP at Laguna Seca, wishing it would come back, but it doesn’t need to. MotoAmerica solved the problem. And it costs $30 per day—come on.
I ask again, do you know what you have?
Hook Your Friends
If you go to a MotoAmerica round and don’t feel like you got your money's worth from at least one of the four or five classes on show that weekend, maybe racing isn’t for you?
But if you’ve read this far, I’m going to guess that it probably is. And like most motorcycle racing enthusiasts, you want to share your passion with your mates, which isn’t always easy. But that’s the ace up MotoAmerica’s sleeve.
If I wanted to get one of my friends into motorcycle racing, I’d treat them to a weekend at MotoAmerica. If they don’t find something that piques their interest throughout the weekend, they’ll likely never be into motorcycle racing. And if that happens, send them away to check out the custom builds, watch a stunt show, or do some go-karting. Basically, point them in the direction of the fan zone.
I checked it out and that’s almost worth a story in and of itself because you see motorcyclists from all walks of life brought together in this moto microcosm. But while I was there, my gut was pulling me back to the track—like I had racing-induced FOMO.
What MotoAmerica has managed to do in just 10 years is nothing short of incredible. I mean, the only downside for me was that the racing was so good that I couldn't bear to miss a minute of track action, and it seems pretty ridiculous to call that a downside.
But it’s an experience and one you need to have in person. The open paddock, crazy race classes, and gathering of two-wheeled brethren from all walks of life isn’t something you can feel through a screen.
I’d go as far as to say anyone who says they’re into motorcycle racing and doesn’t make an effort to go to a MotoAmerica round after reading this is absolutely insane, or a liar. It’s three days, $90, and sure to change your perspective on what makes for “exciting racing”. Oh, and you get to go to Laguna Seca if you want.
For the last time, do you know what you have here?
