The chill of winter is upon us as garage doors shut in and wood stoves burn through the day here in Philadelphia. I remember riding down route 55 through New Jersey in early October on a course for Wildwood. In back of me, two rows of motorcycles barreling down the highway at 90mph — The glow of city lights fade in my side mirror.
Race of Gentlemen, in it’s second year, has already become a trophy weekend for our kind. The petrol-fueled celebration leaves vacant streets at the mercy of flathead-powered burnouts and slow-burn cruising. Shirtless dance-riots of stoned brutes emerge on the beach and in the last strongholds of the locals. Our hysterics manage to get us tossed from at least one night club as we push the limits of decency. The weekend moves like a blur from the daytime beach races, hotel pool parties, nighttime beach fires, strips clubs and sobering cycle rides. I believe that eternal weekend will carry me through to warmer days as the cold days linger on.
The first night — Rendezvous at the StarLux — Jump in hot tub, drop trough, burn out, drink.
The Second Day — Races begin… Adjusting our vantage point, we slowly take over the Oilers’ tower. The hot sun is compromised by a thick wall of fog. The Third Day — After a night of celebration, the races resume… See you next year.