1970 Grand Prix Motorcycle Racing Season

The 1970 Grand Prix motorcycle racing season was the 22nd F.I.M. Road Racing World Championship Grand Prix season. The season consisted of twelve Grand Prix races in six classes: 500cc, 350cc, 250cc, 125cc, 50cc and Sidecars 500cc. It began on May 3, with West German Grand Prix and ended with Spanish Grand Prix on September 27.

Read more about 1970 Grand Prix Motorcycle Racing Season:  Season Summary, 1970 Grand Prix Season Calendar

Famous quotes containing the words grand, motorcycle, racing and/or season:

    One of my playmates, who was apprenticed to a printer, and was somewhat of a wag, asked his master one afternoon if he might go a-fishing, and his master consented. He was gone three months. When he came back, he said that he had been to the Grand Banks, and went to setting type again as if only an afternoon had intervened.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)

    Today, only a fool would offer herself as the singular role model for the Good Mother. Most of us know not to tempt the fates. The moment I felt sure I had everything under control would invariably be the moment right before the principal called to report that one of my sons had just driven somebody’s motorcycle through the high school gymnasium.
    Mary Kay Blakely (20th century)

    Upscale people are fixated with food simply because they are now able to eat so much of it without getting fat, and the reason they don’t get fat is that they maintain a profligate level of calorie expenditure. The very same people whose evenings begin with melted goat’s cheese ... get up at dawn to run, break for a mid-morning aerobics class, and watch the evening news while racing on a stationary bicycle.
    Barbara Ehrenreich (b. 1941)

    When we reached the lake, about half past eight in the evening, it was still steadily raining, and harder than before; and, in that fresh, cool atmosphere, the hylodes were peeping and the toads ringing about the lake universally, as in the spring with us. It was as if the season had revolved backward two or three months, or I had arrived at the abode of perpetual spring.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)