Today I heard a heap of racket outside. At first it sounded like model airplanes in the backyard. Upon opening the back door, it sounded like a full-blown dogfight, with real planes-- but it seemed to originate in front of the house. I opened the front patio door-- and it was super loud. The repetitive doppler effect led me to believe it was from the horse track down the street. I looked up the schedule at the Forus Travbane, and it was some sort of Nordic motorcycle championship. I took Julian down to the overpass (where we would have a free sneak peek), and witnessed the craziest sport on two wheels. I had to do a double-take--- brakeless motorcycles on a dirt track: track racing. These were the rattiest looking motorcycles, and the dirtiest racers. The bikes literally spit rooster-tails of cinders from the track-- or whatever the loose track is made of (it really is not dirt). The exhaust was an unrecognizable odor-- until I read they burn ethanol. Races lasted only three or four laps. Julian was as intrigued as I was, and we stayed an hour and a half. We had a fun afternoon, despite the bad weather. I tried taking photos, but the motorcycles were nothing but a blur.
The local paper posted a video here.
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