Power, Lust, Control... circa 2005

Those afore mentioned thing might be sins to some people, but to me I see them in a bike, so maybe that makes my bike my evil tool of sin. When you’re rolling the throttle towards wide open, the clutch plates gripping together like they’re one solid piece, all this in perfect balance. Leaning down into a race tuck, ears filled with the sound of the intake sucking, exhaust screaming, and all the other mechanical noises that go along with that ever so sweet song that is a motor revving out under a load. That spot on shift at just when the needle on the tach is on the verge of swinging into redline, the front end ripping off the ground trying climb skyward just for a brief second then it drops back down as more power connects from the motor to the pavement through the back tire. That is just the teaser of it, the first taste of a forbidden fruit, it gets better after each and every bite, oh you better believe that is does. That feeling when you cut the throttle and dump the bike into a turn, you and the bike dive into the lean, both your foot and knee creeping towards the asphalt that is moving so fast it has become just a blur. The smooth roll the throttle all the way though it, slowly pulling the bike back upright with the back tire spinning up, lunging you forward like a jet fighter screaming off the end of an aircraft carrier. You don’t do this just once like those cheap thrill roller coasters, no my friend, this is a dance that you repeat countless times back to back, flicking it right then left and back again, a touch of brake here and there, running through the gears and playing with the throttle as if you and the bike are hardwired together as one. Just one beautiful flowing line, an artist’s brush on a living canvas. One awesome, pure, and intense stroke, better than anything, and I do mean anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.