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There’s this bar in Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin, called Siebkens — well, technically it’s called the Stop-Inn Tavern, but nobody calls it that and the only reason I know it’s the Stop-Inn Tavern is because I just looked it up and realized it had its own name distinct from the related Overlook Hotel-esque resort to which it’s attached — that anyone visiting for a race at Road America and looking to have a good time in town probably knows at least in passing. It’s not very big, which makes it easy to have the place covered in stickers from all forms of motorsports. There’s a great framed drawing in one of the bathrooms and memorabilia scattered around in cabinets. They have food I’ve never eaten and I have no idea what it’s like in the daylight. It’s what a dive bar by a gearhead should look like.

The story goes like this:

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phillip-island-wedding033There’s not much to get excited about in the second half of February. If you’re in most of the Northern Hemisphere, it’s cold; football is over, if you’re that kind of person; there’s hockey and basketball and soccer, sure, but all of that’s just waiting around and tying up narrative loose ends; the grotesque excess of awards shows has Twitter at full buzz; there are no holidays off.

But there is a magical place that exists around this time every year that suspends reality for a few hours on Sunday and takes you away to bring out the best in motorsports. Thousands of people flock to the seaside to attend and see the world’s best on one of racing’s most picturesque venues. Here, the sands are just that little bit whiter, the grass a little bit greener, the ocean a little bit bluer. Competitors must contend with seagulls as much as each other. You can soak in the history even as you watch it happen in real time on television. It’s the antidote to your winter bunker mentality blues.

Yes, the World Superbike Championship was back at Phillip Island this weekend. Were you expecting something else?
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time-travel-harold-lloyd

Five wins on the trot, three of them from pole. Slashed and burned history books. A locked contract until the end of 2016. Cheerful oppression and the dawn of a new age. The buzz of the world’s media and fans frothing at the mouth for more. It’s all happening right now, right as you read this. And you already know what it means.

But the world keeps turning even while you move out of your dorm room. Things happen even while man sets foot on the moon. Life goes on elsewhere even when Columbus lands in America. There are plenty of people aiming for a big splash into adult life. There are countless thousands dreaming of the stars. There are plenty of explorers who aren’t there yet and never will be. But that won’t stop them from trying to move up.

It’s like having three feet: One foot firmly planted in the future, one stubbornly rooted in the present, and one ghost foot from your past as bonus ballast. It’s easy to stand by idle. But the world keeps turning, even when you’re stuck. Victories still happen elsewhere. Contracts still get locked. It still moves. But that won’t stop Jonathan Rea from trying to move to MotoGP.

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