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Old 06-10-2010, 09:46 PM   #124
Motard wrecker
imgonnasnap's Avatar
Joined: Nov 2006
Location: Near the Grassy Knoll
Oddometer: 808
Originally Posted by DeeGee
You meet her at the dealers for a test ride with a nervous smile, anxious inside, you wheel her gently down the road. Not too fast though, the smile instant as you hear the burbling soundtrack coming from her high exhausts.

You hit the highway and the smile widens into a dumb grin which gets wider as the revs get higher. You feel like you've never felt about a motorcycle before, is it love?

You go home kicking your heels together thinking of nothing else, only to ride her again. You meet a second time, this time you make a commitment to her you're going to take her home and treat her right, lavish her with gifts and jewellery.

Bags, new rubber shoes for special occasions, bashplate, crashbars, headlight grill and carbon all to protect her. Automatic oiler to keep the drive chain smooth, HID lights so she can see better in the dark, Akros so she can speak louder, Satnav so she can find her way around better, heated grips to keep the cold at bay and finally a new facet pump to keep her alive.

You take her to exotic places in far away lands, you spend so much time together riding on foreign tarmac, you take pictures of you both together; in mountains, through rivers, along gravel roads, through thick mud. She carries you along, safe and sound loaded with all your belongings and she returns you home in good health.

You service her with care, change her filters, her oils, replace her worn brake pads and lavish her with soap and scrub her clean before polishing her to make her sparkle.

Somebody steals her from you, you hope, you pray, you cry, you lose, you mourn.

Then you go and buy another one without so much as sitting on her, it's not the same, but the affair will grow for sure and you begin the love affair all over again.
Considering my 950 SE was just stolen from me last weekend, this especially hits home.
Originally Posted by HappyGoLucky
lots of guys make excuses - it must be the tyres, it must be the weight, it must be the power, it must be the water pump.
ride the $*#(@) thing, and you'll quickly learn that the stain marks in your brooks were firstly from fear and then from ecstacy.
Scuderia: LB to SF
Bradshaw Bombrun 2007, 2008, 2009
Stupidly long road trip of 2009
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