As I think I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been a fan of motorsport for a long time. So, it should come as no surprise that I’ve been going up to Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin’s famous Road America circuit for years. The course is utterly gorgeous, and it’s one that racers really enjoy. Comprised of about 640 acres of rolling hills, the actual park itself is exactly what it claims to be: America’s National Park of Speed.
If you love both the outdoors and any type of motorsport at the same time, it is 100 percent the place for you. Grab your best hiking boots, your sunscreen, your sunglasses, and your hat. Also, don’t forget to hydrate—because you’ll need it.
And each year, Road America plays host to the MotoAmerica paddock, as well as all of its support series. I’ve been wanting to do some in-depth coverage of Royal Enfield’s Build. Train. Race. program for some time, so I made plans to go up there for this year’s event to do just that.
The Enfield team was immediately on board, and they also let me know that they were actually hosting a community ride from Royal Enfield North America Headquarters in Milwaukee up to the Road America course in Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin. And they asked, would I like to join them?
It sounded like fun, so I said yes. Plans were made and my partner, who’s both a massive motorsports nut as well as a photographer, joined in the fun. We both went up to Road America for Friday practice. It was supposed to be dry and sunny, and he’d get much better photos than would likely be possible on Saturday. Checking ahead, we’d seen that the weather forecast warned that rain was likely on Saturday, which was also the first Race Day of the weekend.
Little did we know what it would actually be like when it came bucketing down. Or that the rain would seriously be the least of my worries.
But even at my lowest points of the weekend, there were so many people throughout the motorsports community at Road America who reached out a hand to help me back up and find the true soul of the motorsports community.
Friday
We drove up to Road America without a hitch, stopped to get our credentials, and then parked in the designated parking area. Out of the car, we grabbed our backpacks and water bottles and headed over to go check out the paddock.
Instantly, our hearts felt lighter. It’s hard not to crack a smile on a beautiful, sunny day, surrounded by the greenery, trees, and engine roars that make up a racing weekend at Road America. It touches you in a way words can’t quite do justice to. If you’ve never been there, I hope you get to go in the future.
Around lunch, I heard that the 2023 Royal Enfield Build. Train. Race. champion Mikayla Moore was scheduled to take part in her first Bellissimoto Twins Cup race, and was stoked to be able to see it in person, instead of only on my computer or TV.
As a woman who loves motorsports, I, of course, want to see awesome women riders and drivers doing cool stuff. From what I’ve seen, Moore is absolutely the real deal. And that exciting news meant that she’d be doing four races, not just two. Two BTR races and two Twins Cup races, in addition to the practice and qualifying periods for each series. Excellent.
The remainder of the day was spent walking around Road America, scoping out the little changes from last time we were there, and strategizing for where to spectate and get good shots. We planned that my partner would get up to Road America early on Saturday in the car since I’d be riding up from Milwaukee with the Enfield crew.
We got back to Milwaukee late Friday night, ate some dinner, and promptly passed out, both happy and tired. A good tired, though. The kind that comes from a day spent doing cool stuff and having a nice time.
And if you’ve guessed that this is all a bunch of sunny, optimistic foreshadowing, get yourself a cookie right now and buckle up.
Saturday
I headed to Royal Enfield North America HQ bright and early, riding gear at the ready.
I had a slinger bag on my back, as well as a pouch I like to keep my phone in because it’s a bit too big to comfortably fit in a pocket. Also, I wanted to protect it since it has a rather nice camera. So it’s got that pouch, a screen protector, and a rugged case with MagSafe so I can keep my wallet on the back and have one less thing to worry about.
The plan was to have kickstands up by 9 a.m., and soon we were all geared up and ready to go.
I was on a 2024 Shotgun 650, which is a bike I’ve ridden before. So, it was a bit like greeting an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while, except that now, my knee is significantly less busted (yay). And as a bonus, I’ve also learned more about trail braking in the intervening months. So I was eager to see how different the SG650 felt to ride now that I was at full strength and had upped my skills.
We set out and wound through downtown Milwaukee and up through some small towns, mostly going at the relaxed pace that type of riding demands. And while the weather was overcast and not quite as nice as it had been the day before, it wasn’t raining. We were riding alongside Lake Michigan most of the time, so it was very pretty and relaxing. The moodiness of the weather lent a different kind of beauty to the proceedings, and we were soaking it up.
And then, after a short stop at a gas station with probably the nicest bathroom I’ve ever seen, we were soaking it up in a different way as the skies finally opened.
It wasn’t a downpour at first. Just a bit of a spatter. I’d mostly come prepared for the occasion, wearing my REV’IT Discovery GTX boots, my Held three-season jacket with the Clip-In system and removable Gore-Tex liner, and my Held Air & Dry gloves (one side is Gore-Tex; the other side is perforated goatskin leather for airflow, and you can choose which pocket you put your hands in according to your weather-related needs). In other words, reasonably well-prepared.
I was also wearing my MotoGirl riding overalls, which aren’t really meant for rain. But since I don’t currently have rain pants, pretty much all my riding jeans would face the same soaking-wet fate. And because that’s how plans work, just as we got to the fun, curvy roads, the rain started, quickly ramped up, and then came down steadily and seriously the rest of the way.
While none of us was railing through corners as quickly as we might have in the dry, we were still having a pretty fun time. As for the SG650, the Ceat Zoom Cruz tires that come as stock fitment did quite well in the rain, which was something I hadn’t gotten to experience on my first ride.
A bonus? Eh, testing is testing. But then the nightmare started, and while it wasn’t caused by the rain, the rain also didn’t help.
Our riding group was a pretty chill mix of people. Community riders, a few media riders, and some folks from Royal Enfield were all along for the ride up to the races. We all rode in staggered formation, and Enfield had a solid plan in place with lead, mid-pack, and sweep riders, in addition to a chase vehicle to carry any miscellaneous stuff we’d brought along. Everyone seemed friendly, attentive, and like we were all there to have a good time.
Some of us chose to wear our backpacks, while others opted to utilize the chase vehicle. I did both, leaving my slinger bag in the van and keeping my phone pouch on my person.
While we were making our way through these cool, curvy roads, one of the Enfield folks rolled up next to me and tried to tell me something. I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, so I just kept going. A short time later, as we were in the middle of this extremely cool, twisty bit of road that goes through a natural area and is almost certainly amazing when it’s not raining out, we all stopped at a stop sign.
That’s when he was finally able to break the bad news to me. He saw my phone go flying out on a fast bit of county road, where we were all doing at least 55 MPH. He was pretty sure he saw it shatter as it hit the road, and that was why he was trying to get my attention earlier and get me to pull over.
But I hadn’t understood. So I didn’t.
I stayed remarkably calm, even as my stomach felt like it was doing slow, queasy flips. One questionably valuable skill I have is staying calm in a crisis and only freaking out later, because I know from experience that I have to keep a level head to get through whatever it is safely.
Freaking out now wouldn’t solve anything. In fact, it will probably only make things worse. So instead, I stuffed it down and freaked out later, because I’m a human and not a robot. Yes, I am making sad little jokes because this is painful. Thanks for your patience.
I was upset about the phone, of course. It was new, I really love the camera (it’s a OnePlus 12, if you’re curious), and I hadn’t even had it for 6 months yet. But also, my wallet was on the back of my phone. So my wallet was gone, too.
My driver’s license. My primary credit card. My debit card. Insurance cards (which are paper, so they’re slimmer and easier to fit inside). You get the idea. That sinking pit in the bottom of my stomach was absolutely massive, but I did my best to ignore it.
Now, I’ve ridden with most of the Enfield folks in the past. They’re as awesome, smart, and quick-thinking a group of people as you’d want to ever ride with. And to their absolute credit, they came up with a quick plan to both get the main group up the rest of the way to Road America, and also to help me try to find the phone and wallet I’d unknowingly jettisoned on the ride up. While I wanted to find my wallet and phone if I could, I also deeply hate inconveniencing anyone else.
So, under Enfield’s quick-thinking planning, most of the group took off to ride the 10 or so miles (yes, we were that close) to Road America. I and two Enfield folks (one of whom was in the chase van) turned around to retrace around the fast bit where the phone was spotted flying off my bike.
Tamping down my anxiety every bit of the way, I had to forcibly rein my brain in. It really wanted to wander as I wound slowly and carefully back through the twisty, beautiful roads of the natural area in the wet, with rain bucketing down on and around me the whole time.
Instead, I forced myself to focus, scanning the road ahead for both any sign of my phone or wallet, as well as where to put the front wheel next. I wound back through the natural area, rain pattering down as I came to a stop at the massive field of cows where I needed to turn right. This isn’t a Wisconsin joke, there really was quite a large group of cows standing at my next turn. Honest.
I turned onto the stretch of Wisconsin Highway 67 near Plymouth where my phone had been spotted rocketing off into the distance. As I rolled back the way we’d come, I was going slower—but still trying to not be too slow, since any traffic coming south would probably have been going at least the speed limit. Luckily, it wasn’t super busy, and I was able to scan the road with my eyes in a way I felt satisfied with.
And then, I spotted … something.
I managed to pull over onto the very minimal shoulder and the Enfield chase van then pulled in behind me and threw its hazards on. I told the guy that I thought I’d seen it, and that I was going to walk back and take a look.
Slowly and carefully, I walked back along the shoulder looking for any sign of either thing.
I didn’t know how broken it was, and if I spotted at least one little piece, I figured that could at least give me a rough idea of where it had landed. And then, I’d at least know where to look for the rest.
After I started to question whether I’d really seen what I thought I saw, I spotted it just ahead. It was my phone. Seemingly intact.
In a puddle.
With my library card on top.
Its bright colors had been what caught my eye from across the road. Thoroughly shocked, I picked it up. Close by on the ground, just a few feet away, was my Costco card. And while both those cards had been in the pouch with the phone, they hadn’t actually been in my wallet. So I still had no idea where my wallet was.
Over multiple passes back and forth, I kept looking. I even tried wading through the very wet tall grass and weeds at the side of the highway, sweeping the vegetation out of the way with my feet. And for that reason, I can tell you the Gore-Tex lining in my boots is absolutely legit.
No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find the thing anywhere. Like I said, it was pretty incognito, and not at all brightly colored. Presumably, it would be very easy to miss if it buried itself in an unassuming bit of sodden roadside vegetation.
At some point, I thought to see if my phone actually still worked. I didn’t expect that it would, considering what it had just gone through. It flew off my bike at 55, and who knows if it bounced? Also, it was sitting in a puddle when I found it.
But I had to try.
Upon visual inspection, the phone was amazingly in one piece. The screen wasn’t even cracked. The case was a bit scuffed, but that was it. Would it work, though? I had no way of knowing without hitting that button.
It still WORKED.
Relieved that I could at least hopefully prevent my partner from having a heart attack when everyone else showed up without me, I texted. He was like, “Yeah, I just saw them pull in about 10 minutes ago and told me what happened.”
The Enfield folks said they were happy to wait as long as I wanted to try to find my wallet, which was exceedingly kind of them. I was torn, as I both hate inconveniencing anyone else but was also worried about losing my wallet. And yet, Enfield’s chase van driver reassured me that he meant it when he said he was happy to wait as long as I wanted to keep looking. At one point, he even said, “That’s what I’m here for, in case things go wrong.”
After a few passes, I eventually gave it up and accepted that I’d just have to have no license the rest of the weekend, cancel my cards, and get new ones.
(Asynchronous note from the future: Later that night, I took the case and screen protector off the phone to let everything dry out, and with a little TLC with a lens wipe, it’s behaving exactly like it did before. It’s this case, BTW, not even an expensive one, but apparently well worth every penny and then some.)
After riding the rest of the way up to Road America without incident, I met up with the rest of the group for lunch. Everyone was soggy, and we and the rest of the paddock only proceeded to get soggier over the course of the day as the rain clouds seemingly parked over our corner of Wisconsin.
Saturday was the first Race Day of the weekend and, rain or shine, the racers were still out there. After chatting with some of the BTR folks, I found out that this would be the first time racing in the rain for many.
Some racers in various series slid right off the track or crashed, one of which had caused a red flag during Twins Cup qualifying. We later found out that Mikayla Moore had high-sided. She was up and walking OK, but she suffered a leg injury that unfortunately prevented her from racing in either Saturday race.
Sunday
While most of the folks I’d ridden up to Road America with from Milwaukee turned around and rode back after the last race on Saturday, my partner and I stuck around to see the final day of racing. After all, there was one more BTR race and one more Twins Cup race, as well as King of the Baggers, MotoAmerica Supersport, and MotoAmerica Superbike races to see.
Plus, it was supposed to be sunny!
After arriving, my partner immediately took off from the car to go stake out his preferred photo spot at Turn 6. It’s quite a hike from where we were parked, and he wanted to get in position ahead of the morning warm-up sessions to get some prime shots.
That left me with the car key, so I could continue getting my stuff together and making sure I had everything I needed in my bag. I locked the car, then tucked the key away in the usual pocket that I keep it in when wearing one of my favorite pairs of (non-moto) overalls. They’re super useful, and have tons of pockets, including some with zippers and Velcro.
And if I’d stuck my key into one of those, I wouldn’t be telling you the next part of this story. Because, you see, that was the very last time I saw that key all day.
I’ve never lost car keys before. Ever. Or bike keys. OR house or apartment keys (although I have put them through the wash). And no, Universe, I am not inviting that to be the next thing that happens. My point is, in all my life, I’ve never lost an important key.
Until I did. There’s a first time for everything!
And naturally, I didn’t discover this fact until we were at the end of the day, thoroughly delighted with the racing, the weather, and what felt like a largely euphoric experience.
We’d had lunch. We’d watched some races, gotten some cool shots, seen some awesome dogs (and bikes), met and chatted with some awesome people, and so on. It was most excellent, but it was time to go home. We were tired, but happy. It was the perfect time. And then, I discovered that the car key was nowhere to be found.
It’s not a key fob. It’s a mechanical key, but with a transponder and buttons for lock/unlock/trunk release/alarm. And it was by itself, not on any kind of chain. I thought I was going to vomit.
After tearing apart my bag to see if I’d misplaced it, as well as checking all my pockets, I found absolutely nothing. What do you even do in this situation?
Like Mr. Rogers once said, you look for the helpers.
While Mr. Rogers may not have had any specific instructions about retracing your steps, that’s also what I did, as I knew where I’d been, and while I thought it was unlikely that the key would still be in any of those places, I figured I needed to at least check. I also called Road America’s Lost and Found (which is located in the track’s Security office) but unfortunately, they hadn’t seen it, either.
So I hopped on the next shuttle ride I could to get back to Turn 6, where I’d camped out for most of the afternoon. It was the very last shuttle of the day, but when I told the operator where I wanted to go and why, he very kindly took a shortcut to drop me off. The complex is massive, so taking the shuttle made more sense in the interest of time.
When I got to Turn 6, I looked all over the ground under the tree where I’d been sitting, down by the fence that keeps spectators away from the track, and everywhere I could remember setting foot in that shady, forested area. Nothing.
At one point, a little kid saw me intently staring at the ground. He came over and started doing the same thing. He didn’t ask what I was doing, and I didn’t say anything. But neither of us saw anything, so I left.
I checked the bathroom nearby. Nothing. The Elkhart Lions Club concession area, where I’d briefly stopped earlier to see if they had soft serve (they didn’t). Nothing. I asked the folks working there if they’d by chance seen a car key, and they said they hadn’t. But they helpfully directed me to a guy just outside, who was folding up an umbrella. He was Event Staff at Road America, and they thought that maybe he could help me.
Though he hadn’t seen my key, he immediately hopped on his radio and asked his coworkers if they’d seen one anywhere. They also hadn’t seen it, but they suggested that I talk to Road America Security. I told them that I already had, but that I’d probably try again in a little while in case something had changed since the time of my first call.
The guy wished me luck, and I continued to retrace my steps back down the stairs that led down the hill away from Turn 6. There’s a permanent structure at the bottom of that hill, which is a big garage. I’d stopped there briefly earlier in the morning to call my partner, since I had two smoothies in my hands and I needed a place to set them down if I wanted to make a call. There were little concrete pylons with flat tops that fit the bill nicely.
Was the key at the base of one of those? If it ever was, it certainly wasn’t anymore.
I saw two other Road America staff members backing a truck into one of the garages and asked them if they’d seen it. Nope. They wished me luck, and I continued on my step-retracing journey.
I started hiking up the next hill to get to the Gearbox when I heard someone talking to me. It was one of the RA staffers I’d already talked to, asking if I’d found my key yet. I told him I hadn’t, so he asked where I was headed. We were going in the same direction, so he kindly offered me a ride.
While driving, I must have said something about sitting on the picnic benches at lunch and maybe losing it there. “They’re great folks,” the guy told me. “I know, I’ve been coming here for years,” I responded. “That’s good to hear!” he smiled.
He said, “Phone, keys, wallet. That’s a check I always do when I leave the house,” in a friendly and sympathetic tone. I said, “Sure, in the morning, but do you do that after lunch?” He said, “No, probably not.” Me, neither. But maybe that’s where I went wrong.
I thanked him for the ride and got out at the top of the hill to see if the Gearbox folks had seen it. They hadn’t, but like everyone else, they suggested that I check with Security. And then, I looked down at my phone to see how long it had been since that first call. 45 minutes. I figured that was a decent amount of time, so I called the Security office again and spoke to the same guy. He said that he still hadn’t seen it.
I asked if I could leave my name and number in case he did, as well as describe the key in great detail so he knew what I was looking for if it did turn up. He took down my information and promised to call back if it turned up on his shift. And then, I continued retracing my steps.
Lather, rinse, try to continue not freaking out at how much of a walking disaster I was, repeat.
I kept walking, looking down at the ground, scanning all around. Nothing. By the time I got back closer to the Paddock Shop, I found my partner. He’d called AAA. We weren’t at all sure they could help, especially considering that the car is a late-model Ford that uses a transponder key. But it was at least something. And we had to try.
I told him what I’d found (or not found) so far, what steps I’d retraced, and that my next steps were to go into the Paddock Shop, since I’d gone in there looking for a cold beverage earlier. And then the bathrooms nearby, which I’d visited on a couple of different occasions.
I got there just after the Paddock Shop had closed for the day, so I couldn’t go in. So I went to the bathroom nearby. And as I’d expected, I found nothing.
I went back to the benches in front of the Paddock Shop, where my partner was sitting in the shade. And then proceeded to momentarily melt down. I don’t tend to lose things, but apparently when I do, I go BIG. I felt so incredibly stupid, and very crucially, I wasn’t the only one paying the price. That’s always worse.
We’d just stood up and were trying to figure out what to do next when my phone rang. It was the most welcome Wireless Caller ID display I’d seen in my life.
“Guess what I found!” came the voice of the Road America Security guy over the phone. “OH MY GOD. My car key?” I excitedly asked. “Yep. Someone just turned it in,” he said.
After making sure I was totally clear on where the Security office is located (it’s by Gate 6, if you ever need to find it), I assured him that we were on our way. My partner, who has legs that are approximately a foot longer than mine, immediately took off. I couldn’t keep up. Besides, I figured he was quite rightfully annoyed with me. So I just kept walking.
But he called me a few minutes later and said that a AAA tow truck driver was here, and they were at the Main Gate as well. That’s why he took off as fast as he did. He got to the Security office in record time, retrieved the key, and then went to chat with the AAA tow truck guy. And told me to just turn around and meet him back at the car.
Relieved, but also worried that maybe it was some other lost Ford key (because wouldn’t that be a fantastic coincidence), I started heading back to where we were parked. All the while, I was reflecting on what a ridiculous rollercoaster the weekend had been.
It was the best, worst weekend.
But the fantastic parts were all the people, and how awesome motorsports people are in general. Everyone on the Enfield ride was awesome, both before and after I inadvertently launched my phone into the stratosphere. Everyone we talked to in the paddock were awesome, friendly, and happy to answer any and all questions I had. They might have been prepping to get out on track, but they were still happy to share a few minutes of their time.
And then, everyone I spoke to at Road America when I was trying to find my key and simultaneously not lose my mind. Everyone was so kind and helpful, happy to try to point me in the best direction I could take to hopefully retrieve my missing key. Did I feel dumb? Sure, of course. Did anyone there try to make me feel dumb? Not in the slightest.
If you’re already in the community, you probably don’t need me to tell you that motorsports people are awesome. And it doesn’t seem to matter what type of motorsport it is, either. These are people who will legitimately give you the shirt off their back if they think it will help you. We’re talking about folks who will lend the competition a bike if they have it to lend, just so they can compete.
Out on the track, they’re all in it to win it. But off the track, the camaraderie in the paddock, and among the people who genuinely love and understand motorsports, is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.
As I walked along, hoping against hope that it was, in fact, the correct key, I started to cross in front of the MotoAmerica tent. A group of folks were busy clearing it away after the racing weekend was done, and Mikayla Moore’s family was there helping out.
One of the other things that always gets me a little choked up about motorsports is how great racing families are. I don’t have one of those, so I can’t tell you from experience.
But from my observation, the closeness and support that members of great racing families give each other is, quite simply, one of the most beautiful things you’ll ever see. And from what I’ve seen, it certainly seems like Mikayla Moore’s family is right up there.
I don’t know if he recognized me since I was around the BTR tent quite a lot this weekend, or what, but Mr. Moore waved, and I waved back. And he came over to chat.
So, I may have fangirled slightly, telling him how talented his daughter is, how wonderful it is to see her race and do so well, and how privileged I felt to get to see her compete in her first Twins Cup event. I may also have said something about how awesome it was to see the whole family be so sweet and supportive. And he gave me a hug. Said it’s one big happy family, and I’m welcome to join.
I was already teary-eyed from the frantic car key search I’d brought upon myself. But I was definitely also sniffling anew as I walked away, and it wasn’t because of my allergies. See, that’s exactly what the best people in motorsports are. One big happy family, and you’re welcome to join. Whether it’s the worst day of your life, the best day of your life, or a seemingly never ending rollercoaster of emotions between the two extremes.
Over the course of the weekend, I had some extremely dumb, incredibly human moments.
And at every turn, multiple incredibly kind people were there to help me. All I had to do was reach out and ask, and they were right there. No hesitation; no admonishment. I was taking care of that in my head just fine anyway.
From everyone outside my head, I heard a simple, “What can I do to help?”
To everyone at Royal Enfield and Road America, I want to offer my most heartfelt thanks. Please never stop being as amazing and genuine as you are. And to whoever found that car key and turned it in, you’re an absolute lifesaver.
And to all motorsports fans everywhere, it’s exactly this community spirit that makes motorsports so special. No matter what else may change, it’s my sincerest hope that this part never goes away.
