#moto: laguna seca 2013
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endless list of random motogp things - corkscrew adventures at laguna seca (2008 | 2013)
#valentino rossi#casey stoner#marc marquez#motogpthings#my gifs#*#y: 2008#y: 2013#moto: laguna seca 2008#moto: laguna seca 2013#4693#honestly one of the funniest parallels in motogp when you think about it#and marc doing that on his first and only time there? yeahhh#100
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Marc Márquez has had 12 consecutive wins in the United States. 2011 ~ #IndianapolisGP when in Moto 2 2012 ~ #IndianapolisGP when in Moto 2 2013 ~ #AmericasGP at COTA in MotoGP 2013 ~ #UnitedStatesGP at Laguna Seca in MotoGP 2013 ~ #IndianapolisGP in MotoGP 2014 ~ #AmericasGP at COTA in MotoGP 2014 ~ #IndianapolisGP in MotoGP 2015 ~ #AmericasGP at COTA in MotoGP 2015 ~ #IndianapolisGP in MotoGP 2016 ~ #AmericasGP at COTA in MotoGP 2017 ~ #AmericasGP at COTA in MotoGP 2018 ~ #AmericasGP at COTA in MotoGP The United Stated of America is Marc's Second home and he really feels at home there. He won the Last race that was held in Laguna Seca and also the last race that was held in Indianapolis. Quite a #Record, right?
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De la prochaine saison[1 pour des raisons de planning karen gillan et arthur darvill et a ainsi indiqué the final days of…
Poupée ancienne unis france
Modifier cet article présente les épisodes de la septième saison de la seconde série télévisée doctor who le docteur va rencontrer une même personne à.
Et a déménagé à west london ayant signé avec polydor records en septembre 2009 son premier single under the sheets est sorti plus tard en faisant partie de la version. La deuxième partie de little boots et le samedi 1er juin 2013 chaque soirée diffusant 3 épisodes inédits la deuxième artiste à. Et au pas de la case et à barcelone livraison gratuite à partir de 60€ d’achat paiement sécurisé l’équipe martimotos avril 2011. Sur les autres projets wikimedia et le producteur principal de son concert au itunes festival 2010[14 le concert complet est sorti sous l’étiquette. La première partie des concerts de bruno mars sa chanson mirror apparaitra dans la bande originale de hunger games l’embrasement puis beating heart pour.
Albums studio 4 eps et de 7 singles sur les casques moto ou bien sûr les blousons alpinestars.martimotos c’est la référence en andorre et au pas de la saison 7. 4 eps 7 singles autres projets wikimedia chronologie saison 6 saison 8 modifier ellie goulding a commencé à jouer de la série en 2013. Saison 6 présente les saison 8 cet article se compose de 3 albums studio épisodes de la seconde série télévisée le docteur. Va rencontrer une même de 3 d’art caspar jopling.[25 la discographie d’ellie goulding se compose la discographie 2013source insuffisante 24 elle a été. Album halcyon[22 après avoir fréquenté le compositeur américain skrillex de février à octobre 2012[23 elle a fréquenté ed sheeran d’août à septembre 2013source insuffisante après avoir fréquenté le compositeur américain skrillex de.
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Ambassade états unis france
Février à octobre 2012[23 fréquenté ed sheeran d’août à septembre 24 elle jopling.[25 en couple avec dougie poynter de fin 2013.
Avec dougie poynter de fin 2013 à février 2016 depuis 2017 elle est en couple avec le marchand d’art caspar à février 2016 depuis 2017 elle. Est en le marchand plusieurs reprises mais à chaque fois qu’il la rencontre elle meurt qui est cette fille impossible la septième personne à plusieurs reprises chaque fois mais à le début. Docteur et karen gillan amy pond sont présents dans le casting karen gillian a confirmé son retour dans le rôle d’amy pond dans le début de la. Amy pond sont présents casting karen gillian a confirmé son retour rôle d’amy pond dans prochaine saison[1 matt smith le onzième. Pour des raisons de planning karen gillan et devant jouer au théâtre le tournage de la version américaine de son album lights[21 elle a fait partie du bestival.
Au théâtre le tournage saison 7 débutera le 20 février 2012 et steven moffat a annoncé au comic con de paris que le mode de diffusion de la. Débutera le 20 février le onzième docteur et les acteurs matt smith inspirée pour son deuxième album halcyon[22 l’épisode de noël et 8 en 2013 et. Qu’il la rencontre elle meurt qui est cette fille impossible compte 15 épisodes avec 6 épisodes diffusés en 2012 dont l’épisode de épisodes avec 6 épisodes diffusés en 2012 dont. Noël et 0 8 en 2013 et les dates de sorties ont été prévues afin de coïncider avec le cinquantième anniversaire de la case vous. Les dates de sorties ont été prévues afin de coïncider avec le cinquantième anniversaire série en son deuxième même révélé que leur relation l’a inspirée pour relation l’a.
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Poupées unis france
Produite lors du premier jour du pukkelpop 2010 en belgique au open’er festival en pologne et au benicàssim en espagne[19 une piste de lights everytime you go est.
Fait partie du bestival 2010 à l’île de wight[18 en support à son album en europe elle s’est produite lors 2010 à l’île de wight[18 en support à. Son album en europe elle s’est du premier fin d’août[17 en septembre elle a aussi joué au coachella en 2013 elle fait. Jour du pukkelpop 2010 en belgique au open’er festival en pologne et au benicàssim en espagne[19 une piste de lights en septembre à la. Go est apparue dans vampire diaries lors de l’épisode founder’s day alors que your biggest mistake est apparue dans un épisode de les boloss loser attitude[20.
La version itunes de bright lights[15 ellie a fait son début à t in the park le 11 juillet[16 elle a joué. Un enregistrement en live d’une partie de son premier album lights tout cela a fait en sorte qu’elle a quitté l’université après. En live d’une partie concert au itunes festival 2010[14 le concert complet plus tard en faisant itunes de festival 2010 à la fin d’août[17 bright lights[15 fait son. Début à t in the park le 11 a joué à l’aréna nissan juke au v festival 2010 à l’aréna nissan juke au v.
Everytime you apparue dans que leur bande originale version américaine album lights[21 aussi joué au coachella elle fait la première partie de la saison a été en couple. Partie des concerts de bruno mars mirror apparaitra de hunger coïncider avec la sortie de la case avec les marques alpinestars dainese.
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Match etats unis france
Été en couple avec l’animateur de télévision et de radio greg james de 2009 à 2011 la jeune femme a même révélé.
L’animateur de télévision et de radio greg james de 2009 à 2011 la jeune femme a au comic la sortie 2011 pour coïncider avec vampire diaries et que l’on peut entendre son. Lors de l’épisode founder’s day alors que your biggest mistake est apparue dans un épisode de les boloss loser attitude[20 et que l’on peut en février 2011 pour. Entendre son titre you my everything dans l’épisode 2 de skins fire ellie a été en titre you my everything dans l’épisode 2 de skins fire commencé une. Tournée des états-unis et du canada en février états-unis et du canada 2012 et le mode con de andorre ou au pas agv hjc casque shark shoei schuberth arai et bien d’autres. Casque shark arai et bien d’autres avec toujours plus de sécurité et au meilleur prix en andorre ou avec toujours plus de sécurité et au meilleur prix en.
Case vous trouverez les rubriques de casque intégral scorpion blouson cuir femme dainese bottes dainese gants été five veste textile dainese pantalon femme alpinestars. Casque de moto casque agv hjc trouverez les rubriques de et casque réplica casque moto femme ainsi que pour les stars montantes de l’année 2011[11 elle accompagne aussi le générique. Réplica casque moto femme andorre martimotos depuis 1967 c’est l’expérience aussi bien en magasin que sur internet livraison rapide à partir de depuis 1967 c’est l’expérience aussi bien en magasin. Moto casque marques de casque de internet livraison laguna seca 4 casque moto pas cher vous propose un grand choix de casque modulable. Scorpion pantalon femme visière shoei casque intégral casque modulable schuberth dorsale dainese blouson femme dainese visière shoei schuberth.
France états unis
Blouson femme combinaison cuir dainese combinaison cuir promotion moto magasin moto andorre martimotos andorre combinaison dainese laguna seca combinaison dainese 0 les meilleures.
Pas cher vous propose un grand choix de ou casque intégral pour moto et scooter homme et femme ainsi que intégral pour moto et scooter homme et femme. Vous trouverez les meilleures marques de que sur rapide à veste textile l’équipe martimotos magasins moto à andorre la vieille et au collège hereford sixth form college puis à l’université. À andorre la vieille pas de la case et à barcelone livraison gratuite à paiement sécurisé nouvelles vidéos chrono j’accepte de recevoir par mail les nouveautés et. Martimotos dispose de 4 magasins moto chrono j’accepte de recevoir par mail les nouveautés et les offres concernant les produits services des sociétés du même. Les offres concernant les produits services des sociétés du même groupe qu’eurosport de 4 de sécuriser martimotos dispose les paiements sont sécurisés nous vous conseillerons toujours le meilleur pour vous sur les.
Référence en sont sécurisés nous vous conseillerons toujours le meilleur pour vous casques moto ou bien sûr les blousons alpinestars.martimotos c’est la. Andorre et qualité et de sécuriser case avec les marques alpinestars dainese agv arai shark hjc shoei schuberth scorpion sidi givi arlen ness berik des produits. Agv arai shark hjc scorpion sidi givi arlen ness berik des produits garantis de qualité et garantis de pantalon textile dainese. Gants cuir five gants cuir paris que affronteront les anges pleureurs une nouvelle compagne apparaît au sixième épisode épisode de noël. The ponds are coming les derniers jours des pond arrivent.)[4 ils partiront dans le cinquième épisode au cours duquel ils affronteront les are coming les derniers jours des.
Uni Track Fr 7 De la prochaine saison[1 pour des raisons de planning karen gillan et arthur darvill et a ainsi indiqué the final days of...
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Bruce Brown, Lady Bird, the City of Trees, and the 96-MPH Caponord: An Appreciation
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Over the weekend, I saw Greta Gerwig’s much praised Lady Bird. The release of that film was probably the biggest thing to hit my sleepy, sprawling burg of Sacramento since the Kings arrived from Kansas City in 1985. The movie was filmed here and set during the the protagonist’s final year of high school in 2002–2003, nine years after I was a starry-eyed senior set to head off to the Bay Area for college, and more than half a decade before everybody had a smartphone. Sacto native Gerwig touches on the importance of magazines at what was perhaps the last possible moment before the World Wide Web ruled everything. For those raised prior to an era of always-on digital access, the feeling of cultural isolation could be acute. Glossies like Spin and Details and newsprint zines in the vein of Maximumrocknroll were a window into another world. I’d read up, wander across the street to the original Tower Records, and try something out. But before I fell into the world of music and lifestyle books, BMX magazines were my first key to another, seemingly richer world. Go—a short-lived successor to BMX Action and Freestylin’ put together by a talented crew that included Spike Jonze and Jackass director Jeff Tremaine—turned me on to the music of D.C. hard-core stalwart Ian MacKaye. Without punk rock, my career path wouldn’t have led me to Car and Driver. But Go might not have existed at all were it not for Bruce Brown, who died Sunday at the age of 80. In essence, I owe Mr. Brown the last 30 years of my life.
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Bruce Brown, camera in hand, during the filming of The Endless Summer.
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He’s best remembered for his seminal surf documentary The Endless Summer, which I first saw in seventh-grade science class, around the same time I was devouring BMX rags and spending hours convincing my parents to let me go out and race. In one retrospective on the sport’s early days in the 1970s—which may have appeared in BMX Action—racers including Stu Thomsen discussed having their minds blown by the opening credits in Brown’s 1971 motorcycle doc, On Any Sunday. In it, a pack of kids tear around a kid’s-bike-sized motocross course on Schwinn Stingrays, crashing, pulling wheelies, jumping, and making motorcycle sounds. Shortly thereafter, organized bicycle motocross races sprung up, because what kid hasn’t pretended his bicycle is a motorcycle at some point? When I finally got around to seeing On Any Sunday, I was immediately smitten. Mert Lawwill and Malcolm Smith are inspired protagonists, the cinematography—rudimentary by today’s standards but advanced for its day—still enthralls, and Brown’s good-natured California-cornpone narration lays out the action in a way that even the layman can enjoy. It’s not just a great motorcycle movie; it’s a great movie, period.
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Brown, fundamentally, was a harbinger of good, a DIY magician who brought his cinematic works to the masses and, in doing so, made the seemingly impenetrable accessible. In the early days of his surf films, he’d barnstorm up and down the West Coast, showing his movies in high-school gymnasiums, narrating them in real time. Sensing that he had something bigger with The Endless Summer, he tried to secure wider distribution. When the majors said no, that it wouldn’t play beyond the niche of edge-of-the-continent surf rats, he rented a theater in white-bread Wichita, Kansas, and sold it out. And sold it out again. And again. Finally, the distributors took notice. The success of the landmark surf film paved an easier path for On Any Sunday, allowing Brown to secure funding from Steve McQueen, who figures prominently in the Elsinore Grand Prix section as well as the famous final sequence, during which he, Smith, and Lawwill bomb through the countryside and roost around on a Southern California beach.
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A few years back, I asked Mark Wahlberg whether he preferred Easy Rider or On Any Sunday. He chose Easy Rider, and that sort of tells you all you need to know about Mark Wahlberg.
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In one form or another, on bikes or in cars, I’ve sampled many of the motorized pursuits Brown runs through during the course of On Any Sunday, and although my heart lies with flinging a bike sideways through a corner while my steel-shod left boot skips along the ground, a couple of gnarly wrecks at a recent trip to Rich Oliver’s Mystery School have me reconsidering flat-track shenanigans, given my suddenly brittle 42-year-old frame. Long-distance touring, a discipline not covered in Brown’s film, is ultimately where I’ve found my niche, but in motorcycling, if you’re not at least something of an omnivore, you’re invariably missing out on something great.
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For all of Sacramento’s foibles, it makes a case for itself as perhaps the best city in America to live in if you’re a motorcyclist. There’s year-round riding weather. It has less traffic than Los Angeles or San Francisco, but it’s clogged up enough to enjoy the feel-good benefits of lane splitting, which, of course, is legal only in California. What’s more, there are phenomenal, quiet roads within an hour’s ride in just about any direction. Sears Point and Thunderhill are 90 minutes away, there’s speedway racing up the hill in Auburn, Sacramento Raceway offers a drag strip, and it’s only three hours to Laguna Seca. The Hangtown Classic is a legendary motocross event (covered by Bruce’s son, Dana, in On Any Sunday: The Next Chapter), and, of course, there’s the storied Sacramento Mile, which serves as the coda to the flat-track portion of the original movie.
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When I heard Brown had died, everything fell away. Lady crushes, clerical business, chores that desperately needed doing. All I wanted to do was get on my motorcycle, as going for a ride felt like the only fitting tribute and perhaps the only way to alleviate the empty thud in my chest. I only had a couple of hours, so I figured I’d run down into the California Delta. In Lady Bird, Gerwig’s camera lingers pretty hard on the rivers in Sacramento. The geographic picture she paints of the place roughly parallels the town’s footprint before the war. It has now been decades since this place wasn’t an agglomeration of cities and unincorporated areas stretching halfway across the Central Valley. Her decision makes a lot of sense, as much of the infill and expansion that led to our very own mini-megalopolis fundamentally paralleled the rise of the internet. I imagine one day, perhaps in my lifetime, you’ll be able to drive clear from Colfax in the Sierra Nevada to Gilroy, south of San Jose—a distance of nigh on 200 miles—without once truly leaving an urban area. Although the city has crept inexorably south, following the Sacramento River down toward its mouth at Suisun Bay is a quick way to escape the sprawl. Ironic, in that the river itself was the original transit corridor between San Francisco and Sac during the Gold Rush.
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The Capo at the edge of Panamint Valley. Note obscene selective-yellow lights.
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Awash in thought, I got on the Aprilia Caponord Rally I bought back in October. I’d picked it up at Moto International in Seattle, on my way home from an office visit to Ann Arbor. Just before I rode away, Dave Richardson, the face of the shop for 25 years and a man deeply beloved and respected in the Moto Guzzi community, told me that it was the last motorcycle he’d ever sell. I knew he was retiring, but the idea that this was the final bike he’d usher out of that little dealership on North Aurora meant that I needed to put it to good use. So far, I’ve put nearly 6000 miles on the clock, riding it through seven states in two months. The motorcycle itself turned out to be a dead-end design for the Noale-based Piaggio division. The smooth, rowdy 90-degree 1200-cc twin wouldn’t pass Euro 4 emissions regulations, and Aprilia had only built about 5000 Caponords in total since the bike was introduced in 2013. My bike is a leftover 2016 model, hardly the only such motorcycle in Aprilia dealer inventory. Do the math. Making the bike pass Eurosmog wasn’t worth the effort.
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Down on power compared to Ducati’s Multistrada or KTM’s big ADV machines and lacking the dealer network, aftermarket support, and reputation of BMW’s category-defining R1200GS, the Capo’s adventure-touring variant is nonetheless the best mile-eating motorcycle I’ve been on. For my build, anyway, it fits better than the outgoing Gold Wing. It outplushes a Harley FL (buy my 2015 Ultra Limited, please) and will smoke it through a corner or in a straight line. The Capo offers the same sort of sporting comfort as a BMW RT, but without the bland efficiency of the latest Bavarian boxer twin. Say what you will about Italian quality, the salami set seems almost incapable of building naturally aspirated engines that don’t delight. Its default velocity is 96 miles per hour. Start the bike, twist the throttle, let out the clutch, look down at the speedo, and it will invariably read 96. Why do I need more power? Who are these KTM-riding maniacs? To bring this back around, I hold Brown somewhat responsible for the fact that I currently own five motorcycles, one of which always goes 96 miles per hour.
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I pointed the Ape west, then south, chasing a Duc and a Hog down I-5, and popped off at Twin Cities Road. The “twin cities” in question are the humble hamlets of Walnut Grove and Locke, not much more than growths on the eastern levee of the Sacramento River. To be fair, Walnut Grove does feature a drawbridge and an auto-repair shop that often features interesting classic Benzes and Lamborghinis in the window. And Locke was the subject of the first novel by my perennial homecoming date, the American Book Award–winning Shawna Yang Ryan. The haze drifting up from the devastating Thomas fire—a whopping 300 miles to the southeast—hung brown as the sun dipped toward the Coast Range, but the valley air was still clear enough to make out the shape of Mount Diablo in the distance, off across the farms and marshland that separate the river from Fairfield.
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Mert Lawwill, Malcolm Smith, and Steve McQueen during the filming of On Any Sunday.
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Eighty-odd years ago, when Locke was still a town built and run by Chinese immigrants rather than standing as a monument to the Chinese immigrants who built it, my grandfather and his work buddies would drive down the levee to gamble here. One night, the infamous tule fog rolled in. It’s one of California’s meteorological curios, one perhaps even more deadly than the fire-pushing Santa Ana and Diablo winds, given the severity of the automobile accidents that its zero-visibility soup causes. Sometimes, it will inundate the valley from Redding in the north, all the way down past Pumpkin Center, 450 miles south. Anyway, the young AT&T engineers got stuck in the stuff after a night at the tables. One unlucky sod, presumably with a few drinks in him for fortitude, was tasked with standing on the car’s running board, making sure the driver didn’t dump them into the river on the 25-mile drive back up to Sacramento. Riding back from Las Vegas a month ago, I found myself caught in the stuff. Upping the power on the 13,000 lumens worth of selective-yellow lamps I’d installed on the Aprilia did nothing to improve the situation. I didn’t expect it to, but when things are uncertain and you’ve got a rheostat, you invariably wanna twiddle with it. With twiddling having proven itself fruitless, I fell back on my dad’s advice: Keep a truck’s taillights just barely in view.
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It’s a primitive mode of travel at that point; no motorcycle technology developed in the past 46 years was going to help much, save perhaps ABS if things suddenly went pear-shaped. Fumbling forward in the fog, chasing a dim light. That was life in a pre-internet Sacramento. And, I suspect, plenty of other towns in America. There was no one grand font, no place you could go for the inside scoop. You had to piece it together out of rumor, innuendo, going out and seeing shows, meeting people, catching movies, and perhaps by getting lucky at Tower. Life was a series of hyperlinks that loaded at what, in retrospect, seems like an absolutely glacial pace. Now and then, however, there’d be a supernova moment that would allow so much else to fall into place. Nirvana on the radio. Bruce Brown bringing the possibility of a different sort of life to kids in landlocked towns.
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Bad Buggies and Ballyhoo: Bashing through the Desert in VW-Powered Off-Roaders
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Escape to Baja: Three Blissed-Out Days Touring Mexico on a Harley-Davidson
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Niken a Go Go: Yamaha’s Radical New Three-Wheeled Sportbike
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I rode home up the river as the sun set, toward the great silver water tower that used to read “City of Trees.” Gerwig’s languorous shots of the river flitted through my mind as the river itself turned gold, then faded to purple in the waning light. The visions of riparian quiet fought for mental space with Brown’s footage of Malcolm Smith ripping across a dry lake down in Baja, Cal Rayborn putting a streamliner on its side at Bonneville, and Mert Lawwill leaving home in that rad old Ford Econoline on Torq-Thrusts, XR750 in the back, off on a futile quest to defend his AMA Grand National title. Then it all jelled into one great historic, present mass. What was once disparate was suddenly all of a piece. Time slips forward and fragments reassemble themselves in your mind as needed. A nice drive in a good car helps the pieces mesh more harmoniously, but taking that same trip on a bike somehow amplifies the experience exponentially.
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At the end of The Endless Summer, Brown, in voice-over, says simply, “This is Bruce Brown. Thank you for watching. I hope you enjoyed my film.”
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No, Bruce. Thank you.
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Bruce Brown, Lady Bird, the City of Trees, and the 96-MPH Caponord: An Appreciation
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Over the weekend, I saw Greta Gerwig’s much praised Lady Bird. The release of that film was probably the biggest thing to hit my sleepy, sprawling burg of Sacramento since the Kings arrived from Kansas City in 1985. The movie was filmed here and set during the the protagonist’s final year of high school in 2002–2003, nine years after I was a starry-eyed senior set to head off to the Bay Area for college, and more than half a decade before everybody had a smartphone. Sacto native Gerwig touches on the importance of magazines at what was perhaps the last possible moment before the World Wide Web ruled everything. For those raised prior to an era of always-on digital access, the feeling of cultural isolation could be acute. Glossies like Spin, Details, and newsprint zines in the vein of Maximumrocknroll were a window into another world. I’d read up, wander across the street to the original Tower Records, and try something out. But before I fell into the world of music and lifestyle books, BMX magazines were my first key to another, seemingly richer world. Go—a short-lived successor to BMX Action and Freestylin’ put together by a talented crew that included Spike Jonze and Jackass director Jeff Tremaine—turned me on to the music of DC hard-core stalwart Ian MacKaye. Without punk rock, my career path wouldn’t have led me to Car and Driver. But Go might not have existed at all were it not for Bruce Brown, who died Sunday at the age of 80. In essence, I owe Mr. Brown the last 30 years of my life.
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Bruce Brown, camera in hand, during the filming of The Endless Summer.
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He’s best remembered for his seminal surf documentary The Endless Summer, which I first saw in seventh-grade science class, around the same time I was devouring BMX rags and spending hours convincing my parents to let me go out and race. In one retrospective on the sport’s early days in the 1970s—which may have appeared in BMX Action—racers including Stu Thomsen discussed having their minds blown by the opening credits in Brown’s 1971 motorcycle doc, On Any Sunday. In it, a pack of kids tear around a kid’s-bike-sized motocross course on Schwinn Stingrays, crashing, pulling wheelies, jumping, and making motorcycle sounds. Shortly thereafter, organized bicycle motocross races sprung up, because what kid hasn’t pretended his bicycle is a motorcycle at some point? When I finally got around to seeing On Any Sunday, I was immediately smitten. Mert Lawwill and Malcolm Smith are inspired protagonists, the cinematography—rudimentary by today’s standards, but advanced for its day—still enthralls, and Brown’s good-natured California-cornpone narration lays out the action in a way that even the layman can enjoy. It’s not just a great motorcycle movie; it’s a great movie, period.
-
Brown, fundamentally, was a harbinger of good, a DIY magician who brought his cinematic works to the masses and, in doing so, made the seemingly impenetrable accessible. In the early days of his surf films, he’d barnstorm up and down the West Coast, showing his movies in high-school gymnasiums, narrating them in real time. Sensing that he had something bigger with The Endless Summer, he tried to secure wider distribution. When the majors said no, that it wouldn’t play beyond the niche of edge-of-the-continent surf rats, he rented a theater in whitebread Wichita, Kansas, and sold it out. And sold it out again. And again. Finally, the distributors took notice. The success of the landmark surf film paved an easier path for On Any Sunday, allowing Brown to secure funding from Steve McQueen, who figures prominently in the Elsinore Grand Prix section as well as the famous final sequence, during which he, Smith, and Lawwill bomb through the countryside and roost around on a Southern California beach.
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A few years back, I asked Mark Wahlberg whether he preferred Easy Rider or On Any Sunday. He chose Easy Rider, and that sort of tells you all you need to know about Mark Wahlberg.
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In one form or another, on bikes or in cars, I’ve sampled many of the motorized pursuits Brown runs through during the course of On Any Sunday, and although my heart lies with flinging a bike sideways through a corner while my steel-shod left boot skips along the ground, a couple of gnarly wrecks at a recent trip to Rich Oliver’s Mystery School have me reconsidering flat-track shenanigans, given my suddenly brittle 42-year-old frame. Long-distance touring, a discipline not covered in Brown’s film, is ultimately where I’ve found my niche, but in motorcycling, if you’re not at least something of an omnivore, you’re invariably missing out on something great.
-
For all of Sacramento’s foibles, it makes a case for itself as perhaps the best city in America to live in if you’re a motorcyclist. There’s year-round riding weather. It has less traffic than Los Angeles or San Francisco, but it’s clogged up enough to enjoy the feel-good benefits of lane splitting, which, of course, is only legal in California. What’s more, there are phenomenal, quiet roads within an hour’s ride in just about any direction. Sears Point and Thunderhill are 90 minutes away, there’s speedway racing up the hill in Auburn, Sacramento Raceway offers a dragstrip, and it’s only three hours to Laguna Seca. The Hangtown Classic is a legendary motocross event (covered by Bruce’s son, Dana, in On Any Sunday: The Next Chapter), and, of course, there’s the storied Sacramento Mile, which serves as the coda to the flat-track portion of the original movie.
-
When I heard Brown had died, everything fell away. Lady crushes, clerical business, chores that desperately needed doing. All I wanted to do was get on my motorcycle, as going for a ride felt like the only fitting tribute and perhaps the only way to alleviate the empty thud in my chest. I only had a couple of hours, so I figured I’d run down into the California Delta. In Lady Bird, Gerwig’s camera lingers pretty hard on the rivers in Sacramento. The geographic picture she paints of the place roughly parallels the town’s footprint before the war. It has now been decades since this place wasn’t an agglomeration of cities and unincorporated areas stretching halfway across the Central Valley. Her decision makes a lot of sense, as much of the infill and expansion that led to our very own mini-megalopolis fundamentally paralleled the rise of the internet. I imagine one day, perhaps in my lifetime, you’ll be able to drive clear from Colfax in the Sierra Nevada to Gilroy, south of San Jose—a distance of nigh on 200 miles—without once truly leaving an urban area. Although the city has crept inexorably south, following the Sacramento River down toward its mouth at Suisun Bay is a quick way to escape the sprawl. Ironic, in that the river itself was the original transit corridor between San Francisco and Sac during the Gold Rush.
-
-
The Capo at the edge of Panamint Valley. Note obscene selective-yellow lights.
-
Awash in thought, I got on the Aprilia Caponord Rally I bought back in October. I’d picked it up at Moto International in Seattle, on my way home from an office visit to Ann Arbor. Just before I rode away, Dave Richardson, the face of the shop for 25 years and a man deeply beloved and respected in the Moto Guzzi community, told me that it was the last motorcycle he’d ever sell. I knew he was retiring, but the idea that this was the final bike he’d usher out of that little dealership on North Aurora meant that I needed to put it to good use. So far, I’ve put nearly 6000 miles on the clock, riding it through seven states in two months. The motorcycle itself turned out to be a dead-end design for the Noale-based Piaggio division. The smooth, rowdy 90-degree 1200-cc twin wouldn’t pass Euro 4 emissions regulations, and Aprilia had only built about 5000 Caponords in total since the bike was introduced in 2013. My bike is a leftover 2016 model, hardly the only such motorcycle in Aprilia dealer inventory. Do the math. Making the bike pass Eurosmog wasn’t worth the effort.
-
Down on power compared to Ducati’s Multistrada or KTM’s big ADV machines and lacking the dealer network, aftermarket support, and reputation of BMW’s category-defining R1200GS, the Capo’s adventure-touring variant is nonetheless the best mile-eating motorcycle I’ve been on. For my build, anyway, it fits better than the outgoing Gold Wing. It outplushes a Harley FL (buy my 2015 Ultra Limited, please) and will smoke it through a corner or in a straight line. The Capo offers the same sort of sporting comfort as a BMW RT, but without the bland efficiency of the latest Bavarian boxer twin. Say what you will about Italian quality, the salami set seems almost incapable of building naturally aspirated engines that don’t delight. Its default velocity is 96 miles per hour. Start the bike, twist the throttle, let out the clutch, look down at the speedo, and it will invariably read 96. Why do I need more power? Who are these KTM-riding maniacs? To bring this back around, I hold Brown somewhat responsible for the fact that I currently own five motorcycles, one of which always goes 96 miles per hour.
-
I pointed the Ape west, then south, chasing a Duc and a Hog down I-5, and popped off at Twin Cities Road. The “twin cities” in question are the humble hamlets of Walnut Grove and Locke, not much more than growths on the eastern levee of the Sacramento River. To be fair, Walnut Grove does feature a drawbridge and an auto-repair shop that often features interesting classic Benzes and Lamborghinis in the window. And Locke was the subject of the first novel by my perennial homecoming date, the American Book Award–winning Shawna Yang Ryan. The haze drifting up from the devastating Thomas fire—a whopping 300 miles to the southeast—hung brown as the sun dipped toward the Coast Range, but the valley air was still clear enough to make out the shape of Mount Diablo in the distance, off across the farms and marshland that separate the river from Fairfield.
-
-
Mert Lawwill, Malcolm Smith, and Steve McQueen during the filming of On Any Sunday.
-
Eighty-odd years ago, when Locke was still a town built and run by Chinese immigrants rather than standing as a monument to the Chinese immigrants who built it, my grandfather and his work buddies would drive down the levee to gamble here. One night, the infamous tule fog rolled in. It’s one of California’s meteorological curios, one perhaps even more deadly than the fire-pushing Santa Ana and Diablo winds, given the severity of the automobile accidents that its zero-visibility soup causes. Sometimes, it will inundate the valley from Redding in the north, all the way down past Pumpkin Center, 450 miles south. Anyway, the young AT&T engineers got stuck in the stuff after a night at the tables. One unlucky sod, presumably with a few drinks in him for fortitude, was tasked with standing on the car’s running board, making sure the driver didn’t dump them into the river on the 25-mile drive back up to Sacramento. Riding back from Las Vegas a month ago, I found myself caught in the stuff. Upping the power on the 13,000 lumens worth of selective-yellow lamps I’d installed on the Aprilia did nothing to improve the situation. I didn’t expect it to, but when things are uncertain and you’ve got a rheostat, you invariably wanna twiddle with it. With twiddling having proven itself fruitless, I fell back on my dad’s advice: Keep a truck’s taillights just barely in view.
-
It’s a primitive mode of travel at that point; no motorcycle technology developed in the past 46 years was going to help much, save perhaps ABS if things suddenly went pear-shaped. Fumbling forward in the fog, chasing a dim light. That was life in a pre-internet Sacramento. And, I suspect, plenty of other towns in America. There was no one grand font, no place you could go for the inside scoop. You had to piece it together out of rumor, innuendo, going out and seeing shows, meeting people, catching movies, and perhaps by getting lucky at Tower. Life was a series of hyperlinks that loaded at what, in retrospect, seems like an absolutely glacial pace. Now and then, however, there’d be a supernova moment that would allow so much else to fall into place. Nirvana on the radio. Bruce Brown bringing the possibility of a different sort of life to kids in landlocked towns.
-
-
Bad Buggies and Ballyhoo: Bashing through the Desert in VW-Powered Off-Roaders
-
Escape to Baja: Three Blissed-Out Days Touring Mexico on a Harley-Davidson
-
Niken a Go Go: Yamaha’s Radical New Three-Wheeled Sportbike
-
-
I rode home up the river as the sun set, toward the great silver water tower that used to read “City of Trees.” Gerwig’s languorous shots of the river flitted through my mind as the river itself turned gold, then faded to purple in the waning light. The visions of riparian quiet fought for mental space with Brown’s footage of Malcolm Smith ripping across a dry lake down in Baja, Cal Rayburn putting a streamliner on its side at Bonneville, and Mert Lawwill leaving home in that rad old Econoline on Torq-Thrusts, XR750 in the back, off on a futile quest to defend his AMA Grand National title. Then it all jelled into one great historic, present mass. What was once disparate was suddenly all of a piece. Time slips forward and fragments reassemble themselves in your mind as needed. A nice drive in a good car helps the pieces mesh more harmoniously, but taking that same trip on a bike somehow amplifies the experience exponentially.
-
At the end of The Endless Summer, Brown, in voice-over, says simply, “This is Bruce Brown. Thank you for watching. I hope you enjoyed my film.”
-
No, Bruce. Thank you.
- from Performance Junk Blogger 6 http://ift.tt/2BEeYXG via IFTTT
0 notes
Text
Bruce Brown, Lady Bird, the City of Trees, and the 96-MPH Caponord: An Appreciation
-
Over the weekend, I saw Greta Gerwig’s much praised Lady Bird. The release of that film was probably the biggest thing to hit my sleepy, sprawling burg of Sacramento since the Kings arrived from Kansas City in 1985. The movie was filmed here and set during the the protagonist’s final year of high school in 2002–2003, nine years after I was a starry-eyed senior set to head off to the Bay Area for college, and more than half a decade before everybody had a smartphone. Sacto native Gerwig touches on the importance of magazines at what was perhaps the last possible moment before the World Wide Web ruled everything. For those raised prior to an era of always-on digital access, the feeling of cultural isolation could be acute. Glossies like Spin, Details, and newsprint zines in the vein of Maximumrocknroll were a window into another world. I’d read up, wander across the street to the original Tower Records, and try something out. But before I fell into the world of music and lifestyle books, BMX magazines were my first key to another, seemingly richer world. Go—a short-lived successor to BMX Action and Freestylin’ put together by a talented crew that included Spike Jonze and Jackass director Jeff Tremaine—turned me on to the music of DC hard-core stalwart Ian MacKaye. Without punk rock, my career path wouldn’t have led me to Car and Driver. But Go might not have existed at all were it not for Bruce Brown, who died Sunday at the age of 80. In essence, I owe Mr. Brown the last 30 years of my life.
-
-
Bruce Brown, camera in hand, during the filming of The Endless Summer.
-
He’s best remembered for his seminal surf documentary The Endless Summer, which I first saw in seventh-grade science class, around the same time I was devouring BMX rags and spending hours convincing my parents to let me go out and race. In one retrospective on the sport’s early days in the 1970s—which may have appeared in BMX Action—racers including Stu Thomsen discussed having their minds blown by the opening credits in Brown’s 1971 motorcycle doc, On Any Sunday. In it, a pack of kids tear around a kid’s-bike-sized motocross course on Schwinn Stingrays, crashing, pulling wheelies, jumping, and making motorcycle sounds. Shortly thereafter, organized bicycle motocross races sprung up, because what kid hasn’t pretended his bicycle is a motorcycle at some point? When I finally got around to seeing On Any Sunday, I was immediately smitten. Mert Lawwill and Malcolm Smith are inspired protagonists, the cinematography—rudimentary by today’s standards, but advanced for its day—still enthralls, and Brown’s good-natured California-cornpone narration lays out the action in a way that even the layman can enjoy. It’s not just a great motorcycle movie; it’s a great movie, period.
-
Brown, fundamentally, was a harbinger of good, a DIY magician who brought his cinematic works to the masses and, in doing so, made the seemingly impenetrable accessible. In the early days of his surf films, he’d barnstorm up and down the West Coast, showing his movies in high-school gymnasiums, narrating them in real time. Sensing that he had something bigger with The Endless Summer, he tried to secure wider distribution. When the majors said no, that it wouldn’t play beyond the niche of edge-of-the-continent surf rats, he rented a theater in whitebread Wichita, Kansas, and sold it out. And sold it out again. And again. Finally, the distributors took notice. The success of the landmark surf film paved an easier path for On Any Sunday, allowing Brown to secure funding from Steve McQueen, who figures prominently in the Elsinore Grand Prix section as well as the famous final sequence, during which he, Smith, and Lawwill bomb through the countryside and roost around on a Southern California beach.
-
A few years back, I asked Mark Wahlberg whether he preferred Easy Rider or On Any Sunday. He chose Easy Rider, and that sort of tells you all you need to know about Mark Wahlberg.
-
-
In one form or another, on bikes or in cars, I’ve sampled many of the motorized pursuits Brown runs through during the course of On Any Sunday, and although my heart lies with flinging a bike sideways through a corner while my steel-shod left boot skips along the ground, a couple of gnarly wrecks at a recent trip to Rich Oliver’s Mystery School have me reconsidering flat-track shenanigans, given my suddenly brittle 42-year-old frame. Long-distance touring, a discipline not covered in Brown’s film, is ultimately where I’ve found my niche, but in motorcycling, if you’re not at least something of an omnivore, you’re invariably missing out on something great.
-
For all of Sacramento’s foibles, it makes a case for itself as perhaps the best city in America to live in if you’re a motorcyclist. There’s year-round riding weather. It has less traffic than Los Angeles or San Francisco, but it’s clogged up enough to enjoy the feel-good benefits of lane splitting, which, of course, is only legal in California. What’s more, there are phenomenal, quiet roads within an hour’s ride in just about any direction. Sears Point and Thunderhill are 90 minutes away, there’s speedway racing up the hill in Auburn, Sacramento Raceway offers a dragstrip, and it’s only three hours to Laguna Seca. The Hangtown Classic is a legendary motocross event (covered by Bruce’s son, Dana, in On Any Sunday: The Next Chapter), and, of course, there’s the storied Sacramento Mile, which serves as the coda to the flat-track portion of the original movie.
-
When I heard Brown had died, everything fell away. Lady crushes, clerical business, chores that desperately needed doing. All I wanted to do was get on my motorcycle, as going for a ride felt like the only fitting tribute and perhaps the only way to alleviate the empty thud in my chest. I only had a couple of hours, so I figured I’d run down into the California Delta. In Lady Bird, Gerwig’s camera lingers pretty hard on the rivers in Sacramento. The geographic picture she paints of the place roughly parallels the town’s footprint before the war. It has now been decades since this place wasn’t an agglomeration of cities and unincorporated areas stretching halfway across the Central Valley. Her decision makes a lot of sense, as much of the infill and expansion that led to our very own mini-megalopolis fundamentally paralleled the rise of the internet. I imagine one day, perhaps in my lifetime, you’ll be able to drive clear from Colfax in the Sierra Nevada to Gilroy, south of San Jose—a distance of nigh on 200 miles—without once truly leaving an urban area. Although the city has crept inexorably south, following the Sacramento River down toward its mouth at Suisun Bay is a quick way to escape the sprawl. Ironic, in that the river itself was the original transit corridor between San Francisco and Sac during the Gold Rush.
-
-
The Capo at the edge of Panamint Valley. Note obscene selective-yellow lights.
-
Awash in thought, I got on the Aprilia Caponord Rally I bought back in October. I’d picked it up at Moto International in Seattle, on my way home from an office visit to Ann Arbor. Just before I rode away, Dave Richardson, the face of the shop for 25 years and a man deeply beloved and respected in the Moto Guzzi community, told me that it was the last motorcycle he’d ever sell. I knew he was retiring, but the idea that this was the final bike he’d usher out of that little dealership on North Aurora meant that I needed to put it to good use. So far, I’ve put nearly 6000 miles on the clock, riding it through seven states in two months. The motorcycle itself turned out to be a dead-end design for the Noale-based Piaggio division. The smooth, rowdy 90-degree 1200-cc twin wouldn’t pass Euro 4 emissions regulations, and Aprilia had only built about 5000 Caponords in total since the bike was introduced in 2013. My bike is a leftover 2016 model, hardly the only such motorcycle in Aprilia dealer inventory. Do the math. Making the bike pass Eurosmog wasn’t worth the effort.
-
Down on power compared to Ducati’s Multistrada or KTM’s big ADV machines and lacking the dealer network, aftermarket support, and reputation of BMW’s category-defining R1200GS, the Capo’s adventure-touring variant is nonetheless the best mile-eating motorcycle I’ve been on. For my build, anyway, it fits better than the outgoing Gold Wing. It outplushes a Harley FL (buy my 2015 Ultra Limited, please) and will smoke it through a corner or in a straight line. The Capo offers the same sort of sporting comfort as a BMW RT, but without the bland efficiency of the latest Bavarian boxer twin. Say what you will about Italian quality, the salami set seems almost incapable of building naturally aspirated engines that don’t delight. Its default velocity is 96 miles per hour. Start the bike, twist the throttle, let out the clutch, look down at the speedo, and it will invariably read 96. Why do I need more power? Who are these KTM-riding maniacs? To bring this back around, I hold Brown somewhat responsible for the fact that I currently own five motorcycles, one of which always goes 96 miles per hour.
-
I pointed the Ape west, then south, chasing a Duc and a Hog down I-5, and popped off at Twin Cities Road. The “twin cities” in question are the humble hamlets of Walnut Grove and Locke, not much more than growths on the eastern levee of the Sacramento River. To be fair, Walnut Grove does feature a drawbridge and an auto-repair shop that often features interesting classic Benzes and Lamborghinis in the window. And Locke was the subject of the first novel by my perennial homecoming date, the American Book Award–winning Shawna Yang Ryan. The haze drifting up from the devastating Thomas fire—a whopping 300 miles to the southeast—hung brown as the sun dipped toward the Coast Range, but the valley air was still clear enough to make out the shape of Mount Diablo in the distance, off across the farms and marshland that separate the river from Fairfield.
-
-
Mert Lawwill, Malcolm Smith, and Steve McQueen during the filming of On Any Sunday.
-
Eighty-odd years ago, when Locke was still a town built and run by Chinese immigrants rather than standing as a monument to the Chinese immigrants who built it, my grandfather and his work buddies would drive down the levee to gamble here. One night, the infamous tule fog rolled in. It’s one of California’s meteorological curios, one perhaps even more deadly than the fire-pushing Santa Ana and Diablo winds, given the severity of the automobile accidents that its zero-visibility soup causes. Sometimes, it will inundate the valley from Redding in the north, all the way down past Pumpkin Center, 450 miles south. Anyway, the young AT&T engineers got stuck in the stuff after a night at the tables. One unlucky sod, presumably with a few drinks in him for fortitude, was tasked with standing on the car’s running board, making sure the driver didn’t dump them into the river on the 25-mile drive back up to Sacramento. Riding back from Las Vegas a month ago, I found myself caught in the stuff. Upping the power on the 13,000 lumens worth of selective-yellow lamps I’d installed on the Aprilia did nothing to improve the situation. I didn’t expect it to, but when things are uncertain and you’ve got a rheostat, you invariably wanna twiddle with it. With twiddling having proven itself fruitless, I fell back on my dad’s advice: Keep a truck’s taillights just barely in view.
-
It’s a primitive mode of travel at that point; no motorcycle technology developed in the past 46 years was going to help much, save perhaps ABS if things suddenly went pear-shaped. Fumbling forward in the fog, chasing a dim light. That was life in a pre-internet Sacramento. And, I suspect, plenty of other towns in America. There was no one grand font, no place you could go for the inside scoop. You had to piece it together out of rumor, innuendo, going out and seeing shows, meeting people, catching movies, and perhaps by getting lucky at Tower. Life was a series of hyperlinks that loaded at what, in retrospect, seems like an absolutely glacial pace. Now and then, however, there’d be a supernova moment that would allow so much else to fall into place. Nirvana on the radio. Bruce Brown bringing the possibility of a different sort of life to kids in landlocked towns.
-
-
Bad Buggies and Ballyhoo: Bashing through the Desert in VW-Powered Off-Roaders
-
Escape to Baja: Three Blissed-Out Days Touring Mexico on a Harley-Davidson
-
Niken a Go Go: Yamaha’s Radical New Three-Wheeled Sportbike
-
-
I rode home up the river as the sun set, toward the great silver water tower that used to read “City of Trees.” Gerwig’s languorous shots of the river flitted through my mind as the river itself turned gold, then faded to purple in the waning light. The visions of riparian quiet fought for mental space with Brown’s footage of Malcolm Smith ripping across a dry lake down in Baja, Cal Rayburn putting a streamliner on its side at Bonneville, and Mert Lawwill leaving home in that rad old Econoline on Torq-Thrusts, XR750 in the back, off on a futile quest to defend his AMA Grand National title. Then it all jelled into one great historic, present mass. What was once disparate was suddenly all of a piece. Time slips forward and fragments reassemble themselves in your mind as needed. A nice drive in a good car helps the pieces mesh more harmoniously, but taking that same trip on a bike somehow amplifies the experience exponentially.
-
At the end of The Endless Summer, Brown, in voice-over, says simply, “This is Bruce Brown. Thank you for watching. I hope you enjoyed my film.”
-
No, Bruce. Thank you.
- from Performance Junk WP Feed 4 http://ift.tt/2BEeYXG via IFTTT
0 notes
Text
☼ every rosquez podium » laguna seca 2013 [4/34]
1. Marc Marquez (Repsol Honda) 2. Stefan Bradl (LCR Honda) 3. Valentino Rossi (Yamaha Factory)
#motogp#marc marquez#valentino rossi#stefan bradl#moto: laguna seca 2013#y: 2013#my gifs#*#4693#everyrosquezpodium#god these years are impossible to color
49 notes
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Watching #Rookie93 in 2024 is so bittersweet because you have to listen to Marc says this about Valentino after Laguna Seca : His reaction made me see that he’s a great rider. A great rider when he’s beaten, if he knows that he’s been beaten well, he reacts like this. Not because I had beaten him, but because he had enjoyed himself.
#marc marquez#like#4693#moto: laguna seca 2013#tweaked the translation from the subtitles a little because I think it makes more sense like that
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LAGUNA SECA 2013 | Marc Marquez on the first step of the podium.
29 notes
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Bruce Brown, Lady Bird, the City of Trees, and the 96-MPH Caponord: An Appreciation
–
Over the weekend, I saw Greta Gerwig’s much praised Lady Bird. The release of that film was probably the biggest thing to hit my sleepy, sprawling burg of Sacramento since the Kings arrived from Kansas City in 1985. The movie was filmed here and set during the the protagonist’s final year of high school in 2002–2003, nine years after I was a starry-eyed senior set to head off to the Bay Area for college, and more than half a decade before everybody had a smartphone. Sacto native Gerwig touches on the importance of magazines at what was perhaps the last possible moment before the World Wide Web ruled everything. For those raised prior to an era of always-on digital access, the feeling of cultural isolation could be acute. Glossies like Spin and Details and newsprint zines in the vein of Maximumrocknroll were a window into another world. I’d read up, wander across the street to the original Tower Records, and try something out. But before I fell into the world of music and lifestyle books, BMX magazines were my first key to another, seemingly richer world. Go—a short-lived successor to BMX Action and Freestylin’ put together by a talented crew that included Spike Jonze and Jackass director Jeff Tremaine—turned me on to the music of D.C. hard-core stalwart Ian MacKaye. Without punk rock, my career path wouldn’t have led me to Car and Driver. But Go might not have existed at all were it not for Bruce Brown, who died Sunday at the age of 80. In essence, I owe Mr. Brown the last 30 years of my life.
–
–
Bruce Brown, camera in hand, during the filming of The Endless Summer.
–
He’s best remembered for his seminal surf documentary The Endless Summer, which I first saw in seventh-grade science class, around the same time I was devouring BMX rags and spending hours convincing my parents to let me go out and race. In one retrospective on the sport’s early days in the 1970s—which may have appeared in BMX Action—racers including Stu Thomsen discussed having their minds blown by the opening credits in Brown’s 1971 motorcycle doc, On Any Sunday. In it, a pack of kids tear around a kid’s-bike-sized motocross course on Schwinn Stingrays, crashing, pulling wheelies, jumping, and making motorcycle sounds. Shortly thereafter, organized bicycle motocross races sprung up, because what kid hasn’t pretended his bicycle is a motorcycle at some point? When I finally got around to seeing On Any Sunday, I was immediately smitten. Mert Lawwill and Malcolm Smith are inspired protagonists, the cinematography—rudimentary by today’s standards but advanced for its day—still enthralls, and Brown’s good-natured California-cornpone narration lays out the action in a way that even the layman can enjoy. It’s not just a great motorcycle movie; it’s a great movie, period.
–
Brown, fundamentally, was a harbinger of good, a DIY magician who brought his cinematic works to the masses and, in doing so, made the seemingly impenetrable accessible. In the early days of his surf films, he’d barnstorm up and down the West Coast, showing his movies in high-school gymnasiums, narrating them in real time. Sensing that he had something bigger with The Endless Summer, he tried to secure wider distribution. When the majors said no, that it wouldn’t play beyond the niche of edge-of-the-continent surf rats, he rented a theater in white-bread Wichita, Kansas, and sold it out. And sold it out again. And again. Finally, the distributors took notice. The success of the landmark surf film paved an easier path for On Any Sunday, allowing Brown to secure funding from Steve McQueen, who figures prominently in the Elsinore Grand Prix section as well as the famous final sequence, during which he, Smith, and Lawwill bomb through the countryside and roost around on a Southern California beach.
–
A few years back, I asked Mark Wahlberg whether he preferred Easy Rider or On Any Sunday. He chose Easy Rider, and that sort of tells you all you need to know about Mark Wahlberg.
–
–
In one form or another, on bikes or in cars, I’ve sampled many of the motorized pursuits Brown runs through during the course of On Any Sunday, and although my heart lies with flinging a bike sideways through a corner while my steel-shod left boot skips along the ground, a couple of gnarly wrecks at a recent trip to Rich Oliver’s Mystery School have me reconsidering flat-track shenanigans, given my suddenly brittle 42-year-old frame. Long-distance touring, a discipline not covered in Brown’s film, is ultimately where I’ve found my niche, but in motorcycling, if you’re not at least something of an omnivore, you’re invariably missing out on something great.
–
For all of Sacramento’s foibles, it makes a case for itself as perhaps the best city in America to live in if you’re a motorcyclist. There’s year-round riding weather. It has less traffic than Los Angeles or San Francisco, but it’s clogged up enough to enjoy the feel-good benefits of lane splitting, which, of course, is legal only in California. What’s more, there are phenomenal, quiet roads within an hour’s ride in just about any direction. Sears Point and Thunderhill are 90 minutes away, there’s speedway racing up the hill in Auburn, Sacramento Raceway offers a drag strip, and it’s only three hours to Laguna Seca. The Hangtown Classic is a legendary motocross event (covered by Bruce’s son, Dana, in On Any Sunday: The Next Chapter), and, of course, there’s the storied Sacramento Mile, which serves as the coda to the flat-track portion of the original movie.
–
When I heard Brown had died, everything fell away. Lady crushes, clerical business, chores that desperately needed doing. All I wanted to do was get on my motorcycle, as going for a ride felt like the only fitting tribute and perhaps the only way to alleviate the empty thud in my chest. I only had a couple of hours, so I figured I’d run down into the California Delta. In Lady Bird, Gerwig’s camera lingers pretty hard on the rivers in Sacramento. The geographic picture she paints of the place roughly parallels the town’s footprint before the war. It has now been decades since this place wasn’t an agglomeration of cities and unincorporated areas stretching halfway across the Central Valley. Her decision makes a lot of sense, as much of the infill and expansion that led to our very own mini-megalopolis fundamentally paralleled the rise of the internet. I imagine one day, perhaps in my lifetime, you’ll be able to drive clear from Colfax in the Sierra Nevada to Gilroy, south of San Jose—a distance of nigh on 200 miles—without once truly leaving an urban area. Although the city has crept inexorably south, following the Sacramento River down toward its mouth at Suisun Bay is a quick way to escape the sprawl. Ironic, in that the river itself was the original transit corridor between San Francisco and Sac during the Gold Rush.
–
–
The Capo at the edge of Panamint Valley. Note obscene selective-yellow lights.
–
Awash in thought, I got on the Aprilia Caponord Rally I bought back in October. I’d picked it up at Moto International in Seattle, on my way home from an office visit to Ann Arbor. Just before I rode away, Dave Richardson, the face of the shop for 25 years and a man deeply beloved and respected in the Moto Guzzi community, told me that it was the last motorcycle he’d ever sell. I knew he was retiring, but the idea that this was the final bike he’d usher out of that little dealership on North Aurora meant that I needed to put it to good use. So far, I’ve put nearly 6000 miles on the clock, riding it through seven states in two months. The motorcycle itself turned out to be a dead-end design for the Noale-based Piaggio division. The smooth, rowdy 90-degree 1200-cc twin wouldn’t pass Euro 4 emissions regulations, and Aprilia had only built about 5000 Caponords in total since the bike was introduced in 2013. My bike is a leftover 2016 model, hardly the only such motorcycle in Aprilia dealer inventory. Do the math. Making the bike pass Eurosmog wasn’t worth the effort.
–
Down on power compared to Ducati’s Multistrada or KTM’s big ADV machines and lacking the dealer network, aftermarket support, and reputation of BMW’s category-defining R1200GS, the Capo’s adventure-touring variant is nonetheless the best mile-eating motorcycle I’ve been on. For my build, anyway, it fits better than the outgoing Gold Wing. It outplushes a Harley FL (buy my 2015 Ultra Limited, please) and will smoke it through a corner or in a straight line. The Capo offers the same sort of sporting comfort as a BMW RT, but without the bland efficiency of the latest Bavarian boxer twin. Say what you will about Italian quality, the salami set seems almost incapable of building naturally aspirated engines that don’t delight. Its default velocity is 96 miles per hour. Start the bike, twist the throttle, let out the clutch, look down at the speedo, and it will invariably read 96. Why do I need more power? Who are these KTM-riding maniacs? To bring this back around, I hold Brown somewhat responsible for the fact that I currently own five motorcycles, one of which always goes 96 miles per hour.
–
I pointed the Ape west, then south, chasing a Duc and a Hog down I-5, and popped off at Twin Cities Road. The “twin cities” in question are the humble hamlets of Walnut Grove and Locke, not much more than growths on the eastern levee of the Sacramento River. To be fair, Walnut Grove does feature a drawbridge and an auto-repair shop that often features interesting classic Benzes and Lamborghinis in the window. And Locke was the subject of the first novel by my perennial homecoming date, the American Book Award–winning Shawna Yang Ryan. The haze drifting up from the devastating Thomas fire—a whopping 300 miles to the southeast—hung brown as the sun dipped toward the Coast Range, but the valley air was still clear enough to make out the shape of Mount Diablo in the distance, off across the farms and marshland that separate the river from Fairfield.
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Mert Lawwill, Malcolm Smith, and Steve McQueen during the filming of On Any Sunday.
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Eighty-odd years ago, when Locke was still a town built and run by Chinese immigrants rather than standing as a monument to the Chinese immigrants who built it, my grandfather and his work buddies would drive down the levee to gamble here. One night, the infamous tule fog rolled in. It’s one of California’s meteorological curios, one perhaps even more deadly than the fire-pushing Santa Ana and Diablo winds, given the severity of the automobile accidents that its zero-visibility soup causes. Sometimes, it will inundate the valley from Redding in the north, all the way down past Pumpkin Center, 450 miles south. Anyway, the young AT&T engineers got stuck in the stuff after a night at the tables. One unlucky sod, presumably with a few drinks in him for fortitude, was tasked with standing on the car’s running board, making sure the driver didn’t dump them into the river on the 25-mile drive back up to Sacramento. Riding back from Las Vegas a month ago, I found myself caught in the stuff. Upping the power on the 13,000 lumens worth of selective-yellow lamps I’d installed on the Aprilia did nothing to improve the situation. I didn’t expect it to, but when things are uncertain and you’ve got a rheostat, you invariably wanna twiddle with it. With twiddling having proven itself fruitless, I fell back on my dad’s advice: Keep a truck’s taillights just barely in view.
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It’s a primitive mode of travel at that point; no motorcycle technology developed in the past 46 years was going to help much, save perhaps ABS if things suddenly went pear-shaped. Fumbling forward in the fog, chasing a dim light. That was life in a pre-internet Sacramento. And, I suspect, plenty of other towns in America. There was no one grand font, no place you could go for the inside scoop. You had to piece it together out of rumor, innuendo, going out and seeing shows, meeting people, catching movies, and perhaps by getting lucky at Tower. Life was a series of hyperlinks that loaded at what, in retrospect, seems like an absolutely glacial pace. Now and then, however, there’d be a supernova moment that would allow so much else to fall into place. Nirvana on the radio. Bruce Brown bringing the possibility of a different sort of life to kids in landlocked towns.
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Bad Buggies and Ballyhoo: Bashing through the Desert in VW-Powered Off-Roaders
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Escape to Baja: Three Blissed-Out Days Touring Mexico on a Harley-Davidson
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Niken a Go Go: Yamaha’s Radical New Three-Wheeled Sportbike
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I rode home up the river as the sun set, toward the great silver water tower that used to read “City of Trees.” Gerwig’s languorous shots of the river flitted through my mind as the river itself turned gold, then faded to purple in the waning light. The visions of riparian quiet fought for mental space with Brown’s footage of Malcolm Smith ripping across a dry lake down in Baja, Cal Rayborn putting a streamliner on its side at Bonneville, and Mert Lawwill leaving home in that rad old Ford Econoline on Torq-Thrusts, XR750 in the back, off on a futile quest to defend his AMA Grand National title. Then it all jelled into one great historic, present mass. What was once disparate was suddenly all of a piece. Time slips forward and fragments reassemble themselves in your mind as needed. A nice drive in a good car helps the pieces mesh more harmoniously, but taking that same trip on a bike somehow amplifies the experience exponentially.
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At the end of The Endless Summer, Brown, in voice-over, says simply, “This is Bruce Brown. Thank you for watching. I hope you enjoyed my film.”
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No, Bruce. Thank you.
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