Twin Ring Motegi

It takes about an hour and a half to travel by bus from the sleepy burg of Utsunamiya to the downright catatonic village of Motegi. For those who believe every place in Japan looks like a scene from Blade Runner, the lush green hills, ever-present rice paddies and scattered rural farming villages that dot the countryside between the two towns is almost shocking.

Unless you're a rice farmer seeking expertise, there's really only one other reason for an American to be traveling this particular route. In what used to be a valley between deeply forested hills, lies Honda's Twin Ring Motegi race complex. A compound of immense size, TRM encompasses several different racing venues, two museums, and all the excitement of a day at the races.

Looking at the town of Motegi itself was like visiting a set from one of famous Japanese director, Akira Kurasawa's, film epics. Of course, the "Twin Ring Motegi" signs attached to every light pole in town reminded us that wasn't the case. Just outside of town, the bus turned right and headed uphill, the scenery switching from idyllic to high-tech as we passed under the gates to TRM.

The bus continued its climb, passing row after row of exotic Japanese hardware--Toyota Soarers, Chasers and Supras, Honda Integra Type-Rs new and old, S2000s, Civic Type Rs, Accord Type Rs, Subaru Impreza WRXs, with a few of the previous-generation STis thrown in for good measure. Skylines of all vintages were so abundant, it was easy to think a Nissan convention, rather than the Japanese leg of the CART ChampCar world tour, was in town. Furthermore, there were tons of minivans and SUVs, many of them with tents pitched nearby. Clearly, Japanese race fans are just as die-hard as their American counterparts.

The bus hooked left, passing through a tunnel under the racetrack's Turn Four. A right turn, another tunnel, and the bus finally deposited us next to the infield paddock area, giving us a glimpse of the Twin Ring at last.

TRM gets its name from the unusual configuration of the oval. Smaller on one end than the other, drivers find they not only have to brake for turns, but downshift as well. This is not to say that tight turns and a 1.5-mile length mean slow speeds. On the contrary, if you're cornering at less than 185 mph, you're holding up traffic. Top speeds on the front straight can reach over 220 mph.

Even at 1.5 miles, the oval is immense. If it weren't for the fact that everything, including the Coke advertisements, were in Japanese, one might think they were at any of the numerous oval tracks that dot the landscape in the Southern U.S. None of these, however, compare to the sophistication and class of TRM. At almost three miles in length, the course snakes through the infield, heads out of the oval's ring, then back in. It looks like one hell of a ride.

As the Champ cars blasted around the track for final warm ups, we wandered through the paddock area, listening to the track announce babble on in Japanese. Teams were busy making last-minute adjustments to their cars, fans with autograph books hounded the drivers and any gaigin that walked by (myself included) got a good, long "is he famous?" stare. Paul Tracy walked by us with his race face on, mobbed by autograph seekers and effortlessly scribbling his name in notebooks at random.

With a couple of hours to kill before the race started, we headed through the tunnel that connects the infield to the grandstand and midway section of the track to get some grub. Navigation was nearly impossible as the place was beyond packed. Somehow, we managed to fight our way through the throng, pushing ourselves past the souvenir stands (having already loaded up the day before) and straight to the yakisoba stands. Fried noodles mixed with beef were a staple at the track, and a damn tasty one, too. There were also yakitori, yakiniku, soba, and tons of other foods that fine Japanese restaurants in he U.S offer. The atmosphere was carnival-like. Fans who weren't crowding around a precision bicycle team were busy buying T-shirts, miniature cars or other trinkets. Manufacturers, such as Bridgestone tires, displayed their wares and, to further entice male race fans, employed a trick as old as racing itself: booth babes. One had to empathize with these scantily clad ladies. The 60-degree weather was enough to make you want to bundle them up and take them home. Uh...so you could give them hot coffee, of course.

It was time. Scarfing down our soba and tossing the last few gulps of our Sapporo biru down our throats, we headed back to the track. Sure, we had tickets to the stands, and good ones, too. But screw 'em. We also had "go anywhere" press passes and we were headed for the track itself.

Earplugs in place, we made our way behind the concrete wall at the entrance to Turn One. The racecars, looking like neatly folded paper airplanes, cruised past and gathered behind the colorful NSX pace car. The excitement in the track announcer's voice rose to such a feverish pitch I was sure he would explode out of sheer enthusiasm. Then the starter frantically waved the green flag and, within seconds, the 20 cars of the field roared by, their engines screaming and the wind roaring around the wings and wheels as they jammed themselves through the first turn of the race. The sound and fury faded as the cars blasted up the back stretch, then grew in intensity just 30 seconds later as lap one disappeared into the record books. The cars were so close we could have touched them.

By the end of the race, there were questions as to whether this would be Honda's last race at its own track. That question, however, has now been settled. Honda will sponsor Illmor-built engines in CART's rival, the IRL, next year. Although Honda has dominated CART since its first troubled year of competition in 1994, it has not won a race at its own track. With luck, Honda will finally be able to clinch the win that has eluded them the past four years. Besides, any excuse to revisit Motegi is a good one.

Enjoyed this Post? Subscribe to our RSS Feed, or use your favorite social media to recommend us to friends and colleagues!