Headed into MotoGP weekend in Austin, Texas, I really didn’t know what to expect. Despite getting my first motorcycle at 19, it was still my first time attending a race. It was hot and very loud, which wasn’t much of a surprise. As it turns out, MotoGP still has grid girls, which was more of a surprise since I’d assumed that was over back when Formula 1 mostly did away with them. The biggest surprise, though, was just how quickly I became obsessed with King of the Baggers. I don’t care whether you like motorcycles or racing — if you’re not watching, you’re missing out.
Full Disclosure: Brembo wanted to get me addicted to motorcycle racing so badly that it paid for me to stay in a fancy hotel that gives you a beer when you check in. Last time I stayed there, I got a Shiner Bock, but this time around, all they had was some local craft brew. It was fine. Also, no one knew who Townes Van Zandt was. That was disappointing but not Brembo’s fault. Also, Brembo got me tickets and VIP passes, so I was able to watch most things from an air-conditioned box while a nice young lady named Caroline kept trying to give me free Prosecco. It worked. Also, Brembo paid for my flight home.
Even the people on Harley-Davidson’s racing team seemed to understand that racing bikes that were definitely not built for racing is inherently ridiculous. And to be clear, while they aren’t stock bikes, they’re a lot more stock than you might think. The chassis and the engine are essentially left alone, although you’re allowed to do more to the engine than the chassis, so even with lightweight modified bodywork, different handlebars, a fancier suspension, upgraded brakes (hey, did you know that Brembo makes high-performance brakes?) and all the other changes that go into turning a road bike into something track-capable, they’re still heavy bikes. In fact, 620 pounds is the minimum that they’re allowed to weigh.
In the end, the result is an entire paddock of bikes that more or less look like the massive cruisers you see on road trips, only they’re about to race flat-out at Circuit of the Americas. It looks wrong. It feels wrong. Arguably, it maybe even is wrong. And yet, they do it anyway. Because it is absolutely glorious.
If you think bigger, heavier race bikes means bigger, stronger riders, you couldn’t be more wrong. We got a chance to briefly chat with Harley’s race team, and while its riders might be a bit stockier than some of the race car drivers you’ve met in the past, they’re still pretty small. One look at their arms is enough to realize they’re clearly in incredible shape, but if you had visions of big bearded men rocking beer bellies tossing these bikes around on the track, I’m sorry to burst your bubble. As silly as the concept is, they take King of the Baggers seriously.
Seriously enough that, much to my disappointment, no one would give me a ride around the track on the back. On the one hand, I understood, but on the other hand, I really wanted the chance to experience just a taste of the insanity myself. Oh well, I also couldn’t get a ride in the Garage 56 Camaro, in part because it apparently, “doesn’t have a passenger seat.” As if that’s a legitimate reason. Just put me in the driver’s seat, dude. You can trust a Jalopnik writer not to crash a Camaro.
As you can imagine, all that extra weight on a race bike is bad news for tires and brakes. I won’t go so far as to say King of the Baggers racers need more skill than their MotoGP counterparts, but when your sport defies both the laws of both God and nature, let’s just say you need a special set of talents to keep the rubber side down and the shiny side up. They talked about various strategies for keeping all that weight under control, such as using the thumb brake the stabilize the rear before you really hammer the front brakes.
And while it’s very much not NASCAR, hearing them talk about how much the bikes move definitely made it hard not to think of a NASCAR comparison. They’re taking bikes that shouldn’t be raced, racing them anyway and learning to work with the bike’s “flaws” instead of completely engineering them out. I absolutely love it.
As incredibly awesomely terrible as the idea of racing baggers is, the actual racing is even better than you can even imagine. All the stuff I learned about corner strategy and brakes and tires went out the window the second the bikes took off on Saturday, and I immediately turned into a little kid again, having a blast watching loud, heavy things go fast. Very fast. And when they lean into the turns, trust me, they really lean into the turns.
The number I heard tossed around was about 60 degrees of lean, which is already a lot for a race bike. When we’re talking Indians and Harley-Davidsons, though, even when you watch it with your own two eyes, it’s hard to really believe what you’re seeing. It was chaos. It was beauty. It was wrong. It was right. Most importantly, though, I was there, watching it happen live. You can’t tell me that I imagined something that thousands of other people can verify happened even though it felt more like something I saw in the kind of dream where I never got rid of my Budweiser tank top. If it had been a dream, they would have let me ride one of the bikes.
I know the real race was supposed to be MotoGP. That’s the reason Brembo spent so much money to bring me Austin. And I did enjoy the final race on Sunday, especially since I ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen years and got to catch up while we watched some of the most insane racers on the planet lap COTA. Even as someone who doesn’t have much of a sense of self-preservation (I’ve been riding for more than 15 years, after all), I can recognize they’re doing something I know for a fact I’m too terrified to even dip my toe into trying.
And yet, after watching King of the Baggers, it almost felt too serious. A little too buttoned down. After experiencing the unhinged ridiculousness of a Baggers race, it felt like something was missing. That’s not a swipe at anyone involved with MotoGP, either. My heart’s just been captured by King of the Baggers, and I don’t know if there’s a way for MotoGP to ever win it back. Watching Harleys race Indians in a way they definitely, absolutely shouldn’t really just is that much fun.
