Triumphrat

ride4321

Just read this on Craigslist NYC. It was posted on the rants and raves section. Loved it and thought I'd share it...

Its 2 in the morning and I was just woken up by a couple of sport bikes blasting up route 9 right in front of my house. Man, I love that noise. When the rider twists the throttle and the RPMs jump. That blip right before the tires catch up to the motor. That's why I started riding. That noise. Every bike does it, Crotch-rocket, Harley, cafe racer or bobber.

Whether its a twin cylinder Yamaha, the 4-banger in a GSXR, or an S&S 110 in a custom chopper, they all make that blip. It's the point right before the gas explodes, when the carbs or the FI system is sucking in the air for that rush of power that's about to grip the road. It's the noise you hear on the highway, even over your radio. The one that scares the **** of out of some people, and peaks excitement in others.

Personally that noise turns me into a 6 yr old boy, my face beaming with wonder and so interested in getting a glimpse of where its coming from, nothing else in the world matters 'till I see that bike blow by. I love seeing that look on a kid's face. When I stop at the grocery store, or leave a red light, I can feel the thrill that child is going through. I can also see the horror on some parents face when I come across the parking lot and they picture their own kid 10, 15 years from now coming home on a bike. That puts a smirk of a different kind on my face.

I can just remember the first time my mom saw me coasting into her driveway on my '82 Yamaha. It was old and beat, loud and in need of a lotta love. She hated it. She worried about me every time I told her about a trip somewhere or what I saw riding. She hated it when I parked it in her shed for the winter, and she definitely didn't approve of the second bike i bought that spring.

She hated my Kawasaki even more than the 1st one. She hated it worse when I fell. I think she convinced herself their would be no more worrying. If its wrecked, he cant ride it, and he'll just junk it, and that'll be that. Not a chance.

Once you've got the bug it stays with you. I don't care how bad you wreck, who you saw fall, or how many times you've broken down it will always be with you. You may park it for a while, even sell it, but you will always want one. You will always tell stories of the ride you used to have. And every time you hear someone downshift and crack the throttle before a nice, uphill left hander, you'll stop what you were doing and peak over your shoulder. You will stare, until that curiosity is satisfied, and you remember what that noise was like on your bike.

KNEESintheWIND