Motofest this past weekend felt like a celebration of everything that draws people toward motorcycles in the first place. From the moment the gates opened, the place buzzed with the unmistakable sound of engines, laughter, and the low rumble of bikes arriving in steady waves. Riders and enthusiasts drifted through the grounds with that shared sense of belonging that only motorcycling seems to create.
Rows of motorcycles stood gleaming in the sunlight, each one telling its own story. There were immaculate restorations polished to perfection, modern superbikes bristling with technology, and well-used machines that carried the honest marks of many battles on the race track. Riders stood nearby, proudly explaining modifications, sharing stories of past battles, and swapping advice with anyone who showed interest. It didn’t matter whether someone arrived on a brand-new machine or an old faithful commuter—the common language of motorcycles made everyone feel welcome.
The soundscape was constant and addictive. Engines barked into life, revved briefly, then settled into deep mechanical rhythms. Demonstrations and ride-bys kept the energy alive, drawing crowds who watched with appreciation and the occasional cheer for the odd wheel stand or two. For many, the simple act of hearing a finely tuned motorcycle being opened up was as exciting as anything else happening at the event.
But Motofest was never just about the machines. The real heart of the weekend was the people. Old friends reunited after months sometimes years apart, leaning against bikes while retelling stories from past races long consigned to memories. I counted 14 Lizards at the event. New friendships formed easily, often beginning with a simple question like, “What are you riding?” The conversations wandered from favourite roads to near misses in bad weather, to the next big trip someone was planning.
Food stalls and vendor tents added to the carnival atmosphere. A vast improvement on the Baxter's race dog and soft chips that's for sure Riders wandered through with coffee cups in hand, browsing riding gear, parts, and memorabilia. Everywhere you looked there were patches, helmets, jackets, and that distinctive relaxed posture of people who feel completely at home in a crowd of fellow riders. It was great to see such good support from the brands too, although no Ducati. Hmmm.
As the afternoon wore on, the light softened and the crowds slowly began to thin. In the car4park bikes started up one by one, riders pulling on helmets and gloves before heading back out onto the open road. Yet there was no sense of the event ending abruptly—only the quiet understanding that the spirit of the weekend would continue wherever those riders travelled next.
Motofest reminded everyone why motorcycling holds such a powerful place in people’s lives. It’s not just about speed or machinery. It’s about freedom, shared stories, and the simple joy of being surrounded by others who understand the pull of the open road. For a few days, all of that came together in one unforgettable weekend.
I(ts amazing what turns up in the garden.
Back in mah day this was sex on wheels.
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