We snuck back to the paddock and finally convinced the safety workers to let us out on track. This drew a roaring wave of gestures (both good and bad) and encouraging guffaws from the crowd, and after dicing with bikes three times our size, we rolled the battered sidecar just outside the front gates but we were far from defeated. Attendees young and old lined up to get pictures with the comedically thrashed little cart, until the last of the last trickled out and the stadium lights were turned off. We may not have won any of our races, but it was never about that. We came, we conquered, we somehow avoided being thrown out, and danced off into the night, already planning our next foray.