2025 Quail MotoFest

I don’t care much about prizes and awards. I’ve never been a trophy guy (or even a trophy girl), and while I’ve been awarded a few plaques over the years, only one award sits in my home today; a Jaeger 8-day clock restored by Dennis Quinlan, presented on the occasion of my first tenure as President of the Velocette Club. That was 30 years ago, and the clock was a symbol of support, as I’d shifted my priorities, evolving from flamboyant participant and entertaining pain in the ass, to someone who made an effort, ensuring wankers just like me could carry on enjoying motorcycles in a fun context.

For those reasons, I’m happy to emcee and award the prizes at the Quail motorcycle concours (now called MotoFest) every year; to support people making an effort. The staff of the Quail, the judges, the owners of the bikes, and the attendees; they all showed up.  And as any self-help guru will tell you, showing up is 90% of success, in any endeavor. So, for those who showed up in whatever form to the MotoFest – thank you.

This year was vintage Quail.  Friday’s Quail Ride started at Laguna Seca raceway rather than at the Lodge, which confused some folks, who then sadly missed their laps of this historic track.  I was riding my ’65 Triumph T120, and did two sessions on the track, first with the ‘fast’ group of mostly newer sporting bikes, then with the ‘touring’ group of mostly vintage machines.  Much as I love the Bonnie and its rep as the fastest motorcycle in production in 1965 (Vincents having expired ten years prior), it is not a racing machine, nor was I riding it at the limits of tire adhesion…although I may have been at the limits of its feeble brakes.  I had a blast, especially on the Corkscrew.  Nobody crashed, nobody’s bike blew up, nobody came in on the sag wagon: a good day on a great track.

We then commenced an 80-mile loop through Salinas Valley south to Carmel Valley Road, with a pit stop at Wrath winery.  I made bad jokes about ‘trampling out the vintage’, since the grapes of Wrath were stored there.  The winery was beautiful, and Northern California was showing off after some late Spring rains, draping herself in velvety green hills, with abundant wildflowers in her hair.  After 5 months in the far far south California desert, NorCal looked lush and delicious, and I drank it in, burbling along in the middle of the 80-strong pack.  Cruising speed, Scotty.

Until, that is, Laney Thornton appeared at Wrath.  He’d missed Laguna, but caught us up at the winery.  He’d contacted me a few weeks prior announcing his completetion a 35-year project to his satisfaction: he’s been emending his 1950 Vincent Series C Rapide the entire time I’ve known him, mostly with changes to the suspension, but the engine got a bump too, at 1150cc.  He felt he’d finally sorted it, and wanted me to give her a test ride.  I suggested the Quail, so he signed up for the Ride, and it was time to swap bikes for the remainder of the morning, into the heart of all that’s best and worst about NorCal pavement, on Carmel Valley Road.  Fantastic scenery under overarching oaks, lots of twists and climbs along creekbeds and over hills, but a consistently awful road surface.  An excellent place to test suspension, in other words.

The Quail Ride has two rules: don’t crash, and don’t pass Gordon McCall, who rides at the head of the pack, behind a swift CHP on a new 180hp BMW.  Gordon was also BMW mounted, on his GS, which he considers the perfect bike for the area, for the reasons above. The Ride was escorted by eight CHP riders, who blocked side roads, stop signs, and lights along the way, giving us the lovely privilege of never stopping. Once passed, our escorts leap-frogged ahead of the group, showing off their skills at handling 900lb BMWs on tight, bumpy twisties.

I wasn’t going to get much of a Road Test following the pack, so pulled over to let everyone pass while I snapped a couple of photos.  The backmarker CHP pulled up to check if all was good, so I briefly explained the need to stretch the legs of this special machine I was road testing as a professional journalist.  He looked me and the bike over, gestured behind him with his thumb, and gunned it.  An ordinary Vincent would have left me on the ground within the first mile at our rate of hustle, the road being so lousy, but Laney’s bike hugged the tail of the rapid cop bike, passing the whole Ride lineup over the course of about six miles, feeling every bump but never getting bent out of shape, and leaping forward with a roar at every twist of the throttle.  It was glorious.  No, I didn’t pass Gordon, and I’ll post a Road Test soon.

If you Ride, your presence is requested at a banquet that evening.  It’s where Gordon gets to thank his team, and give his featured guests a spot at the podium.  This year’s honorees included the Yoshimura family, legend of the sport Steve Baker (first American F750 World Champ), and Troy Lee, whose turn from motocrosser to motogear manufacturer built him an empire.  I don’t consider myself a legend of the sport, but Gordon likes me to speak about the state of motorcycling at the banquet.  This year I related my culture shock at returning to San Francisco after 5 months in Baja, from dirt roads to streets choc-a-bloc with self-driving cars.  I was reminded of my friend Dana Smith’s theory, that most of the new tech we’re surrounded with is designed by people ‘on the spectrum’; cars with no drivers to interact.  Apps that simulate community but replace face-to-face communication. Etc. I stated my opinion that motorcycles – especially ridden in groups – are an antidote to the robot takeover, requiring physical and interpersonal skills, and exposing riders to the Real. I finished with, “Ride a bike. Don’t let the robots win.”

Saturday dawned foggy and cool for the MotoFest, which is par for the course in Carmel Valley.  A full complement of volunteer judges swarmed the field at 9am, when owners and journalists were allowed on the field.  That was the time to take photos, though I only shot a few this year – too many hands to shake and hugs to share: thanks to Corey Levenson for once again being a pro and providing his excellent photos for this story.  By 10am the public was on the field, which never felt crowded.  Participation was down a bit this year, with fewer bikes on the field than 2023 (the previous dry year), although there seemed to be about as many attendees as usual.  The vibe was, as always, excellent; relaxed and friendly.  There was great food (taco trucks!  Ice cream!), and good music all day.  It’s about the most pleasant motorcycle gathering imaginable, and it’s a wonder more folks don’t make the effort – tickets were as cheap as $50 this year, and there were so many super cool bikes to see, most of which had great stories, if you chatted with their owners, and in the case of race bikes, that included some of the legends who rode them to glory.

Spotlight features this year included Yoshimura, with the family taking a tent to display Pops Yoshimura’s very first racer, a Honda CB72 that won the Suzuka 18-hour race and launched the brand, still in remarkable original condition.  They also displayed a Yamaha R7 racer with paint by Troy Lee, a nice tie-in with this year’s Legend of the Sport.  As Bimota was a featured marque, 18 were displayed on the lawn, following the whole range of the company’s history, from its first Honda racers to the latest carbon-fiber Tesi specials.   The BMW GS turns 45 this year, so that made the third featured category this year, and quite a few historic adventure bikes showed up, including Robb Talbott’s RTW GS wearing its amazing history on its bodywork, and won the class.

The winners of the various categories were wheeled to the stage at 2:30 for the awards presentation, and the final hour and a half – for me – was spent on the stage with Gordon and Chief Judge Somer Hooker, plus the winners of course.  It was a superb batch of bikes this year, and I was ‘in the room were it happened’ when Best in Show was chosen with judges; there really wasn’t a competition in that regard, as the 1937 Indian A-61 ‘Arrow’ was a mind blowing preservation machine, and America’s first-ever motorcycle land speed racing streamliner.

The c.1925 1000cc OHV Indian factory racer was was pulled out of the race department for dealer Hap Alzina’s attempt to counter Ernst Henne’s record in teh BMW ‘egg’.  Alzina commissioned a home-built streamlined shell, called the Arrow.  It was built like an airplane, with thin wooden slats forming the body, all covered with ‘dope’ like a WW1 biplane.  To get going, the rider straddled the bike, then the body (in two halves) was pushed over him, while a wrench and bolts were handed in through a hatch.  The rider bolted himself into the machine, handed the wrench back, and prayed for a successful run.  In the meantime, the shell filled with alcohol and exhaust fumes, and a lot of noise from the open exhaust, before the rider even shifted into gear and let out the clutch.  It was quickly found that the bike was faster without the crude shell.  But not fast enough to challenge Ernst Henne’s streamliner record of 1937 [read our history of land speed racing – ‘Absolute Speed, Absolute Power’]. So the whole plot was put away in a box, where it remained for decades.  One heck of a piece of history, right there to poke your head in at the Quail.

Header pic of myself and Dustin Kott: photo by Abshi Eswarappa of Bike-Urious.