The 2009 Grand Prix motorcycle racing season was the 61st F.I.M. Road Racing World Championship season. Valentino Rossi won his sixth MotoGP title, seventh in the top class and ninth title in total after getting the better of team-mate Jorge Lorenzo in a season-long battle. In the final 250cc championship (it was replaced by the Moto2 class in 2010), Hiroshi Aoyama became the third Japanese rider to win that title, after Tetsuya Harada and Daijiro Kato. In the 125cc class, Julián Simón won the title after taking seven victories during the season.
Read more about 2009 Grand Prix Motorcycle Racing Season: Grands Prix
Famous quotes containing the words grand, motorcycle, racing and/or season:
“That grand drama in a hundred acts, which is reserved for the next two centuries of Europe—the most terrible, most questionable and perhaps also the most hopeful of all dramas.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900)
“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)