It was Friday and the scribe was off to visit the Gulf Bike Week 2015 being held at the Autodrome in Dubai.

Being new to the area, I was not too sure if I was heading the right way in the relatively sparsely populated Motor City district. But, all my doubts were cast aside when I heard the unmistakable symphony.

How would you describe a motorbike sound? Vroom? Chug? Tut tut?

Nah, these combination of alphabets does not even begin to describe the percussion that a V-twin engine of a Harley Davidson exudes and, if the need be, blares when the mufflers are off.

By way of confession, that’s the way I like it. In fact, so distinct is the sound that the company wanted to have it registered as a trademark!

I found my vehicle surrounded by an ocean of bikers. This I later learnt was part of the “Thunder Parade”.

I was momentarily frozen by sheer awe and the task of navigating my car safely through this torrent. By the time I could get my cameras out, the torrent had ebbed to an occasional biker or two.

Once at the Autodrome, all one could see along the fence were cruisers lined up in all their glory. Their chromes and custom paint jobs shimmering in the golden shine of a setting sun.

Inside, exhibitors from all around the globe were displaying their wares – from Japanese bike Manufacturers to the German BMW – American and local customisers, bike sellers, rental operations, bike magazines and biker accessories.

Some vintage bikes instantly transported the visitor to the age of WWII movies as the sound of roaring engines reminded one of the blitz!

Phil, who works for a bike customisation business here shared that the event is eagerly anticipated and provides a good opportunity to meet industry participants and some potential clients. Judging by crowds around his exhibit, one gathers that he was being modest.

The event was a nice opportunity to experience and observe some pop cultural movements too.

The Biker Groups in attendance were definitely a well-behaved and polite lot as compared to the notorious projections of biker groups in Hollywood movies. Infact, “Black Eagles” the resident biker group is known for their pro bono activities.

Machines are OK but it is the men behind the machines that matter most.

The event featured a huge action arena that was the playground for world class riders such as the ace stunt rider Julien Welsch, who enthralled the audience with his version of freestyle gymnastics on a superbike.

Local legends such as Shadi Al Dhaheri who had his own line up of tricks were also in attendance.

Being a motorcar drifting fan, to say that I was not disappointed would be an understatement.

Between his performances, I got to have a great discussion with Ahmed Al Ameri, UAE’s drift king for three seasons in a row. The humble champion had advice for the younger lot that they should not indulge in motor sports on street roads but rather head towards the excellent facilities available to observe, learn from and practice with professionals in a contained and safe environment.

What Ahmed did “with his” and “to his” Toyota for the next few minutes was the grand finale for the evenings’ activities as far as I was concerned.

Nothing that would follow could better this crescendo fuelled by the concoction of hi-octane, adrenaline and burnt rubber.

At the close of the drifting performance, I decided to call it a day but not before a quiet cooling off to return to a frame of mind more compatible with driving on public roads.

The event space was bordered by the stands along the Autodrome circuit where some superbikes were having their own heats.

Once satiated with all the pomp and fair of the GBW, I headed towards the empty stands around the circuit which provided ample peace to reflect upon life’s little mysteries.

When the pack comes careening towards the stand, their engine noise starts to register, first a distant roar, then a not-so-distant rumble and then the screeching flurry of colors whizzing by well in excess of 250Km/hr!

Till the pack returned in the next lap, I had the time to explain the “Doppler Effect” to my seven-year-old in the quiet of the secluded gallery.

—All photos by author.