Motorsport has a way of christening hallowed ground wherever it goes. MotoGP holds the Italian Grand Prix at the legendary Autodromo Internazionale del Mugello, and with it comes swaths of fans that treat it as a pilgrimage. If you’re hankering for some stale crackers and want to lean into a religious theme, then you could cite the Dutch TT at TT Circuit Assen, otherwise known as The Cathedral of Speed, as an acceptable answer. For fans of American Flat Track, you have the Springfield Mile, a crown jewel at the Illinois State Fairgrounds. Meanwhile, every July 4th weekend, tens of thousands of motocross fans congregate en masse at Red Bud MX in Michigan to watch riders clear LaRocco’s Leap and cheer Independence Day. That’s looking at the landscape from a 10,000-foot view, and one that two-wheeled racing fans can debate among themselves.
Diving into discussions about racetracks and their collective cultural significance is far more mentally rewarding than wading into theology or politics in the Year of Our Lord 2026. So, take a load off and indulge in lighthearted arguments of no consequence. Though I think we can all agree that replacing Phillip Island on the MotoGP calendar is tantamount to sacrilege. Who do you think you are, Liberty Media?
Unlike Europeans, stateside MotoGP fans have a single round to use as our altar: the Grand Prix of the United States held at Circuit of the Americas in Austin. This year, the racing was just as good as the barbecue across all classes. Despite working in the motorcycle industry for a decade, it’s a round that yours truly has visited a couple of times at this point. If you have the means and opportunity, do it. MotoGP machines are loud, intense, and breathtakingly fast in ways that a broadcast simply can’t translate.
Heading to Europe, Asia, or Austin for a GP race might be impractical. We all have responsibilities and schedules to keep, yet motorcyclists are curious creatures who develop their own ritualistic behaviors wherever they gather. Sunday morning seems to be the agreed-upon time for riders to gather for riding’s sake.
That’s not an observation that’s strictly applicable to the United States; it transcends continents. When attending the launch of Moto Guzzi’s V100 Mandello S several years back, our scheduled media ride took place on a Sunday, with a route that made the most of the sublime mountain roads above Italy’s Lake Como. The leather-clad sportbike-riding locals paid no mind to a group of camera-wielding journalists who were simply slowing their personal Mountain Course records, and it’s always nice to have a reference when hurling yourself at unknown roads.
Some people head to church on Sundays for enlightenment, while others reach for inspiration in other ways. Be it bicycling, video games, brunch in good company, or twisting a well-maintained throttle, these activities become more than habit and fill an unspoken need. It is our temple, even if we never walk through any doors to get there.
For this Southern California-based scribe, any paved route through our many National Forests is as good a spot as any to do some healthy ruminating. There, we can lean into said curves and find our flow states, if that’s your thing. Perhaps you’re more of the lean-back-and-enjoy-the-scenery type of rider, or one who enjoys the trip more than the destination. I get that, and when in those moods, I’ll usually find ways to park myself at a greasy spoon diner for a meal that’ll have me adding some preload into the shock afterward.
Finding your temple is no easy task, nor is discovering a group where we all feel at ease. Simply put, finding your “people” can be a challenge. What helps is a binding tie, such as motorcycling, where a simple commonality bridges gaps, handshakes are freely given, and jokes are shared. Get out and start scouting because before long, you’ll find some like-minded folk no matter where you aim your wheels.
