I gave the old girl a good Sunday morning's excercise today. It was cool and overcast at 9:00 this morning when I fired her up. The right cyllinder was slow to wake, but within a block all was well.
We putted to a curvy section and were disgusted to be behind so many cages at that time of day--don't people stay home or in church or something on Sunday mornings?
After wading through the cars we hit a nice open stretch and did a little 60 in the 35 zone for a while until the light. Then it was a right turn onto the highway, up a long steep hill listening to the perfect roar of a 650 twin pulling hard against gravity.
Back in town, slow down with plenty of engine braking--what a sound. Almost home, but can't quit yet. Keep on going. Over the tracks, take a hard right and hit the gas. No clutch, just shift into 3rd, 4th, 5th...so smooth and natural. Here comes the roundabout. Downshift to 3rd, no brakes, swoosh through and up through the gears. 55 in the 35 zone, curves and no traffic. Down the hill, over the tracks to the stop sign. Turn out onto the busy street and keep just ahead of the cars. Every red light is an opportunity to hit the gas and feel/hear that sensation.
Roar down my street to my driveway, ease it to her parking spot and put the stand down. Leave her running until the helmet and gloves are stashed so I can hear that sound with my naked ears. Hands are frozen, as is the smile on my face.