I have a story for you! This was originally posted by someone under the screen name HellBent over at Kawasakimotorcycle.org (
Well, I am beyond the break in stage with the Concours 14 so decide it IS time to twist the wick a bit. Knowing the way I ride, I put ALL of my gear on. Levi's, long sleeved shirt, boots, chaps, leather jacket, gloves and full face helmet. Then I have to pee. By the time I finally get to the bike I am weak from dehydration and heat exhaustion. A 6 pack of Coke later, I have to pee again.
Eventually, I back the bike out of the shed and try to turn the key. *&^%$####@er!!! The damned fob is in the house. This bike has a key and a key activator thingy, more commonly called a FOB. If the FOB is more than 5.5 feet from the bike, the key won't work. Back in the house for the FOB aka Found On the Bed. Don't ask. FOB now in my pocket I go back out and polevault my way onto the bike. Yes, it is that tall. With a 32 inch inseam I cannot flat foot the thing, but then I have fat thighs. Too many donuts back in my teen years when I was practicing to be a cop. So, I got the fat thighs and the belly but no badge. Go figure. (pun intended)
Okie Dokie, fire the puppy up and listen closely to see if it is running. It is, so I kick it into gear and ease out the drive and onto the street, idling along until the temperature gauge moves into the operating zone. A right turn takes me onto Hwy E and I ease up to 60 mph, just loafing along, letting things warm up. A mile down the road and I pass under Hwy 67, a four lane controlled access highway. Slow almost to a stop and then left up the ramp to 67. Idling along in first gear, straighten the bike, slide forward a bit and squeeze the tank with my knees. A quick head check tells me there is no traffic to merge with so here goes.
Ever seen a cat take off when you soak his tail in lighter fluid and toss a match to it? No? Well, trust me, they are quick. But, not as quick as that freakin' Concours when I twisted that wick. Suddenly I am riding a unicycle and for those of you who have read my other stories, you know I have trouble staying upright on two wheels, and now I am on ONE???? OH, HELL NO!!!! Roll off the throttle, yank in the clutch and pop it into second. BEHAVE, *****!!!!
Roll on the throttle and the front gets up a bit, but touches down lightly. The tach passes 9 grand and quick shift into third and HOLY HELL THE FRONT END IS OFF THE GROUND, AGAIN!!!! If this was a cowhorse I would slap the nag between the ears and knock him down but I need both hands to hold on to this thing. Roll off the throttle and re-evalute. I try to slide forward on the seat and realize my *** has sucked the seat all the way to my tonsils.At least I won't fall off.
Ok, this thing has control issues, I can deal with that, I have been married a long time. Start over again, easing into the throttle in first gear, the Kawasaki beller kicks in about 6000 rpm and just gets meaner up to 9000. Clutch in, ease off the throttle, catch second, roll on the throttle. Better, smoother, controllable, feels good. Past 6 grand again, it sings to me, I love it. 9000 now, holy sweet Jesus, I am in second gear somewhere north of 70 miles per hour and I have 4 gears left ????? My wife better get more life insurance on me.
So, later that day on some crooked two lane blacktop road I catch a glimpse of a bike disappearing around a curve ahead of me. The devil I am riding whispers, "catch him". We do, and it turns out to be three crotch rockets. All I can see is the soles of their feet and their butt cracks as they make love to the gas tanks, squirting their way through the 35 and 40 mph curves at 65. I can hear the banshee wale of their pipes as they work their bikes through the gears, braking hard before entry and flogging hell out of them on exit. The ***** glides along behind them, flowing like a ghost through the curves.
Around a left hander we enter a short straight and I become...SUPER SQUID!!!!!
My brain goes for donuts as my left hand yanks in the clutch, left foot stomps the shifter three times, right hand twists the throttle to the stop. The ***** chortles as we pass the first two riders, their eyes wide with awe and admiration. Pulling even with the lead rider I see him hunch lower and sock the spurs to his mount. To no avail as I snick the shifter into 4th and we GO. WE JUST GO! WE FRIGGIN' GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mr. Sulu, warp 5 please. Aye Captain.
WHOA HORSIE, who put a 45 mph curve there? Right there! The force is with you, Luke, trust the force. The she-devil flows through the curve like gas through a siphon hose. How fast were you going you ask. I have no idea, I closed my eyes.
According to the guy that wrote that, the bike performed like that while she was