As Northeast winter has hung on with 15-degree days and subzero nights, I have yearned for Daytona as I knew it for so long. When I went to Daytona for the first time, in 1969, it was a moderately Big Deal, and the following year, with Honda, Triumph, and BSA in contention, it became a Bigger Deal. Then in 1972, quite by accident and through no one’s wisdom, it became The Greatest—the clash of the world’s fastest riders, on the world’s fastest machines, on the fastest track.
Because I was staying up nights changing crankshafts and cylinders, I couldn’t know what was going on downtown, but Daytona was becoming every year’s big opportunity for trade shows, new model introductions, and every kind of corporate schmoozefest and high-zoot dinner meeting imaginable.…
