I have the priveledge to be able to ride a highly tuned two-wheeled performance racing vehicle, my Suzuki GSX-R 1000. Not only is she beautiful to look at, but my stallion sports a 1,000 CC engine capable of flying me down the highway at speeds close to 200 miles per hour. I haven't had this machine long so I've only gotten her up to about 125 MPH, but even that was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life.
The freedom I got from being fused to the back of my bike as we shot down the straightaway at speeds at which I've never travelled before in a land vehicle was simply unparalelled. I thought I'd been excited before, I thought I'd felt exhilaration, but after feeling that rush I now know that at best I'd only ever been giddy. Hearing the purr of the racing engine as you tighten your legs around it and watch the yellow dashes blur into a solid line beneath your wheels is an experience that many people never have the opportunity to live through.
I have. I have touched the hand of God, and it's electric, my friends.
It's also addictive. You get to 125, look down at the tachometer, and see that you're not even harnessing a quarter of the engine's power and your right hand instinctively starts to lower, opening the throttle to increase the torque and make the engine roar just a little bit louder. Speed is like a drug, one hit is never enough - you want more, and more, and more, until you no longer are able tell where you start and the drug ends. As your hand lowers, it moves farther away from the brake lever - committing you to forward motion in a way that cage (car) drivers can't imagine.
The thing is that at those speeds, you aren't so much a driver as you are a rider. Any sudden movement might be met with disaster. Rocks become boulders. Bugs hit like birds. You are connected to the machine but by its grace - make any sudden moves and you will learn what it is to connect with asphalt in spectacular fashion. Keep calm and cool and collected, and you are welcome to enjoy the ride.
A performance machine doesn't let you get away with any bullshit. It's not forgiving, nor should it be. It's designed to cut through the air without leaving a mark, to defy the laws of gravity when it turns, and to propel you to speeds that not everyone can handle. It is a rare and special machine that gets to demand from you what it offers in return - raw speed and unadulterated power. There is nothing superfluous about a racing motorcycle - every component of it was added for a reason and has been designed to be as lightweight and sleek as possible.
Respecting the machine is what makes a good rider. Knowing that the motorcycle requires you to run but doesn't have any particular need to do so is the key to harnessing its speed. Like Hunter S. Thompson said, a racing bike looks like it's going 90 mile an hour when it's standing still. You may think that it doesn't need you, and in truth it does not - sleek and beautiful as it is even when not being ridden - but it aches for those highway speeds just like you do. That's what it was designed for, after all.
It would be unthinkable to want to tame the beast, it is a performance vehicle designed to move fast and look good doing it - that's why you got it, that's its appeal over other motorcycles. Even at low speeds there is a gentle reassurance that comes from knowing what the engine purring along between your legs is capable of. Accelerating into low, sweeping turns on windy back roads brings a taste of the rush that the machine can bring you with an open throttle, temporarily fulfilling the desire to wind up the engine towards the red zone. You don't steer a racing bike so much as you suggest a direction and speed in which to travel, and then together man and machine wind through space and time. At high speeds, the separation between driver and chariot begins to blur, but it easily becomes redefined again when you let back on the throttle.
I have ridden my Gixxer to time-warp speeds and lived to tell the tale. Is it necessary to have a motorcycle that was designed for racetracks? Absolutely not. Most people, in fact, would say that it's simply not worth the effort or the risk.
I am not one of those people.
H.S.T. also said: "On some days you get what you want, and on others, you get what you need". Need is a transient feeling - I need food, I eat food (any old food will do), and when satiated I no longer need food. Want is consistent and specific. I want to eat steak, I eat steak, and even with a steak sitting full in my belly I know that I will want to eat steak again. Do I need to own a Suzuki GSX-R 1000? Do I need to double the posted highway speed limit? Absolutely not. Many would (and do) tell me that I'm crazy for doing it.
But they haven't tasted the exquisite kiss of this particular machine's touch as it is guided over the smooth highway. I have, and will forever want to taste it again and again, every chance I get.
