Pilgramage

Opinion/Commentary
By Pete Hitzeman
for R6Live.com

After a seven hour sprint across the deserts and hills of southern and central California, I abruptly found myself at home among friends. Moments before they were total strangers, but just then, sitting around a campfire with a beer in my hand, I realized that we had essentially known each other for many years. Stories were exchanged, arguments joined, and jokes were told as if it were the reunion of a long-separated family.

Perhaps it was. I was at Laguna Seca, an unlikely race course nestled into the hills near Monterey. During one weekend every summer, the otherwise tranquil and picturesque nature reserve explodes into three days of power and pageantry known as the Red Bull U.S. Grand Prix.

Attending a race weekend is a shock to the system of even the most ardent race fan. The assault on all senses, the intangibles of the atmosphere and the proximity to one’s heroes combine to produce a state of almost childlike bewilderment for the racing faithful. To be sure, watching a race on television may give you a better overall understanding of what’s going on throughout the weekend, but it is no substitute for the in-person experience.

And there is no experience quite like MotoGP.