2000 Grand Prix Motorcycle Racing Season

The 2000 Grand Prix motorcycle racing season was the 52nd F.I.M. Road Racing World Championship season.

Read more about 2000 Grand Prix Motorcycle Racing Season:  Season Summary, Grands Prix, 500 Cc World Championship Final Standings, 250 Cc World Championship Final Standings, 125 Cc World Championship Final Standings

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

    We had heard of a Grand Fall on this stream, and thought that each fall we came to must be it, but after christening several in succession with this name, we gave up the search. There were more Grand or Petty Falls than I can remember.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)

    Actually being married seemed so crowded with unspoken rules and odd secrets and unfathomable responsibilities that it had no more occurred to her to imagine being married herself than it had to imagine driving a motorcycle or having a job. She had, however, thought about being a bride, which had more to do with being the center of attention and looking inexplicably, temporarily beautiful than it did with sharing a double bed with someone with hairy legs and a drawer full of boxer shorts.
    Anna Quindlen (b. 1952)

    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)