White paint on offramps can be deadly slippery with condensation in the fog and thus is to be avoided at all costs. With knackered rear shocks and a recently rebuilt fork complete with Progressive springs, the chassis is all off kilter, stiff in the front end and squashy in the rear. So that when I nudge it up to 2nd gear I have to be damn careful not to drop the clutch or the whole thing goes like a bouncy horse. Doesn't help that one has to love that throttle to make things move smooth. It takes less than 1/8 of a turn into that liter motor to get you up to speed, maybe 1/3 on acceleration to freeway speed. Just a nudge. And if you go past that bitty nudge there better not be anybody or anything in the way.
Another thing will never go out of style and that is clinging in the dark, reaching far out over the tank to the handle bars, the wind controlled by the right hand. A 70 mph wind hitting me in the stomach. Directly in the stomach. No fairing, no nothing to deflect the wind, gravel, sticks, leaves, cigarette butts, birds, bird poop and whatever else the freeway has to dish up. The classy dual-pod speedo/tacho nacelle frames the headlight beam stretching far ahead of me, lighting down the divergent raingrooves. There ought to be a silk scarf flapping about my neck and the static from a navigation radio echoing in my headset and sparkles from antiaircraft units glaring in the distance. The square mirrors slash upwards like antennae on the right and on the left, showing headlights rapidly disappearing on my six. Turbulence shudders through the frame as I bank left into a cloud of fog...
(I'm trying to run the fuel out of the tank in preparation for Suzi's surgery starting this week-end, and I forget how much class this machine exudes)
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