Rennie Scaysbrook | September 18, 2023
The American motorcycling media was rocked by the death of Motorcycle.com Editor-in-Chief, Evans Brasfield, after an accident while riding at Big Tujunga Canyon on Angeles Crest, Los Angeles, on September 13, 2023.
Evans was involved in a collision with another driver who fled the scene. The suspect was apprehended later that night, while Evans passed away at the site of the accident.
The news of Evans’ death sent shockwaves through the tightknit international motorcycle journalist community, a reminder that what we do to bring you content on your favorite subject can have dire consequences.
Evans, husband to Karin of 30 years and father to two daughters, Minna and Georgia, was a man deeply in love with motorcycling and his job as a motorcycle journalist. Having been involved with the Motorcycle.com team for the best part of 10 years, Evans was known for his deeply analytical approach to motorcycle testing and evaluation, but always in that light-hearted demeanor he became so famous for.
Although it may be a clichéd thing to say at a time like this, it is nonetheless true—you’d really struggle to find anyone who had a bad word to say about Evans. The man was devoid of enemies, a rarity in a space where opinions and their polarizing nature are the very lifeblood of the industry.
Tributes to Evans poured in from every corner of the motorcycling world and beyond. Indeed, as Rider Magazine’s Greg Drevenstedt so eloquently put it, “The measure of a person is how they are regarded by others. I can’t imagine there’s a single person with something bad to say about Evans Brasfield. The outpouring of not just grief but love for how wonderful of a human being Evans was speaks volumes about his character, personality, integrity, selflessness, and devotion to his family and friends.”
Over the years, Evans and I got to know each other well. We traveled all over the world together—through the Middle East, Asia, Europe, and pretty much every little nook and cranny of the United States—and the amount of time we spent in each other’s pockets gave me an insight more into Evans the man than Evans the motorcycle journalist.
The love this man had for his family was absolute. He’d delight in telling anyone who would listen just how proud he was of his daughters as they navigated their way through adolescence and into womanhood. He had the enthusiasm of a new father, not one who’d been in the game for the best part of two decades already.
Evans and I connected on a deeper level because fatherhood has not been the easiest of journeys for me. Although our lives were intrinsically different, Evans would offer little tidbits of advice, especially in the early years of my journey as a father that have helped shape how I approach the most important job in the world of raising a functional member of society. Love and patience were generally the answer to most of my questions.
Evans and I shared many a deep conversation, me usually with a beer in hand and him with something much healthier like a glass of water after he kicked the drinking habit 15 or so years ago.
One thing that always struck me about Evans was his genuine interest in what was going on in my life. He’d ask about my son and wife, about how I might be missing Australia and the family contained there, and of course about the health and prosperity of Cycle News, which was naturally a competitor for advertising dollars but all part of this ecosystem of adult children who didn’t want to grow up and get real jobs—what’s that? Another trip to Spain? I’ll take it!
He wanted to know all the details of my time at Pikes Peak and the Isle of Man TT, and I’d try and dress the stories up to give them a bit of pizzazz to keep his company.
That was the thing with Evans—if you had his attention you had it completely. He’d listen to what you were saying, really listen, not dilute the moment by checking his phone or looking over your shoulder for the next, more interesting person to talk to.
And you could always count on that chuckling, chortling laugh that usually drowned out everyone else’s. He would have made the best grandfather. He was in effect the American motorcycle media’s benevolent old uncle.
Evans’ death leaves a massive hole in our little industry, and all of us here at Cycle News would like to extend our deepest condolences to Evans’ family, friends, the Motorcycle.com team, and colleagues from around the world.
Initially shared by Eric Putter, this article, titled Motorcycles and Risk: What Do We Tell Our Mothers? was penned by Evans after the death of his colleague and friend, Greg McQuide, in 2000.
In it, Evans is at his linguistic best, telling his story of how he came to hear his calling to motorcycles and this industry as his profession while grappling with Greg’s passing and talking about it with his naturally concerned mother.
“For me, the attraction of riding motorcycles comes from achieving total presence on the bike,” Evans writes. “At these moments, the past only contains the last few corners, the future exists just as far ahead as I can see, and the present consists of me, the motorcycle, and the road. All are one in a dance; the air streaming past, my senses consumed by the exquisite instant at the threshold of being. Time stretches to encompass the sensation of the surface of the road, the subtle changes within the machine, the taste of the wind, and my inner focus and calm.”
I hope Evans is now at peace. He left an impression on his family, friends, and colleagues few could dream of, and I for one am going to miss our chats, his laugh, and the good times we shared across the world terribly.
Farewell, mate. See you on the other side.
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