Spanish Motorcycle Diaries - Day 6. From Conil to the MotoGP Race (Jerez), on to Seville (May 2017)

When we came to Madrid for the first time in 1989 to partake in a 2-month language course, our local landlady used to say that ‘Espana es un pais de los costumbres’, i.e. tradition matters.  Her other favorite saying was a description of the standard dinner, ‘papas al pobre’, the poor man’s potatoes.  Spain was an emerging economy then, had just joined the EU, and both statements reflected the continued sway of tradition and the modest level of economic development at the time.  Like Hemingway, I was taken by the weekly bullfights at the Plaza de Toro, sitting in the top row for a pittance among the cigar-smoking elder gentlemen commenting with aplomb on the proceedings below.  When it was a good fight, with the toro dangerous and raging, you developed huge respect for the toreador – many of which hailed from very modest social backgrounds and where a career as a toreador was a fast track for social mobility.

[As an aside, Barcelona and Madrid even find reason to fight about the toros.  As if scripted in a surrealist Bunuel movie, the Constitutional Tribunal located in Madrid (and stuffed still with old-style judges) ruled recently that Catalonia’s earlier law to forbid bull fights – in the name of animal protection – was unconstitutional since, wait for it, the bullfights were part of the ‘patromonio nacional de Espana’ and thus the Catalan authorities had no jurisdiction over the matter …  they appear to have lost all their marbles, and will find any excuse to raise the temperature in this unity-vs-separatism fight, instead of sitting down and finding pragmatic compromises.]

To me, the modern day toreadors are the motorcycle racers whom -- until we moved to Spain -- I had only seen on the TV, where you get no idea at all of the speed, its first derivative (acceleration), and the numbing sound going along with all that commotion.  The machines in the top class, MotoGP, weigh some 160kg, have over 250 horse power, and race up to a terrifying 340km/h on straights.  Spain has used the wealth from EU accession well, and is now the leading global power in motorcycle racing.  – We, as old Italian hands – were of course supporting the grand master of the gang, the now-ancient 38-year old Valentino Rossi (#VR46), still going strong amidst an ever-growing field of fearless 20-some year-olds. 

So today we joined tens of thousands of aficionados, most arriving by motorcycle, for the season’s first MotoGP race on Spanish soil, in Jerez de la Frontera; the reason many of these towns have the adjunct ‘of the border’ is due to their proximity, in the final stages of the reconquista, to Moorish Spain.  Unsurprisingly, all three races were won by Spanish representatives, including a podium sweep in the king’s class of MotoGP, which led to a good fiesta.  You can get an idea of the difference between this kind of motorcycling and our leisurely ride up to the mountains near Ronda by looking at the two videos attached :-) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IH7rOXT1I8E

[Motorcycle racing is essentially about two basic forces in physics:  (i) centrifugalism, and (ii) traction.  The faster you go around a curve, the bigger the G-factor that will then catapult you off the track.  The faster you want to go, the more power needs to be transmitted from the engine to the rear tire.  It is always terrifying to illustrate to yourself that you have the raw power of 150-250 horses tearing away at any instant at a piece of tire rubber the size of a coaster – if you lose traction, the whole thing goes flying.

For those curious amongst you to see how daring and athletic modern motorcycle racers are, here’s a little illustration of what it means to be motorcycling racing: 

1.       Find a friend or loved one with some patience and physical strength.  Ask him to stand to the right of you, knees bent, facing you. (You can do this with your kids for fun, too!)

2.       Put an empty chair to your left.

3.       Take up the position that you would when you ski fast downhill, hands forward, rear end backwards, knees bent as much as you can, balance your body.

4.       Now lean to the right, towards your friend, at 30 degrees.  That’s about the point at which you’ll start to tip over, and the lean angle at which most people’s self-protection instinct will stop them from leaning further.  Get your friend to put both hands on your hip/upper body to support you.

5.       Now lean in nearly twice that much, to 55-58 degrees, which is the lean angle these guys take to go around a corner at 150-180km/h.  You feel nauseous.  Imagine your friend is not there.

6.       Now try to put your right knee onto the floor.

7.       Now try to put your right elbow onto the floor.

8.       Now put your left leg over the chair and try to ‘hang off’ that chair.  Motorcyclists don’t sit on their bike in corners, they hang off to the side just like red Indians in the western movies.

9.       And now imagine you are not stationary but going at 150km an hour.

10.   Respect, right?  Balls of steel, just like the old-style toreadors!

Now, for all the young folk out there, I am NOT recommending you get a motorcycle license, at least not until you are 25 years and have done a lot of driving with cars.  It is one dangerous hobby, and I ride merely 2-3 weekends a year, and then like an abuelo. :-)

For those of you who like Sherry, it originates from Jerez.  In fact, Sir Francis Drake in 1587 ransacked Cádiz to prevent/delay the building of the Armada, and took home 2,900 sacks of Sherry.  Shakespare immortalized the drink with his character of Sir John Falstaff in Henry IV, who noted: "If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be, to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.’

Salud!