My very first bike was a Ninja 250. I thought I was the coolest kid on the block; revving at 14grand to go a blistering 110mph down the highway. At 220 pounds, a tank slapper on a 250 going 100 is not something any rider should experience. If you haven't, don't. (Unless you're packing a new set of knickers.)
I've tested many Ferrari's in my day. The F355 was magical, The Enzo was downright orgasmic, and the 360 Modena was an epiphanous experience to say the least. In the same hand, two wheels have always scratched me in a different way. The element of danger with precision is something not to be taken lightly. If you can handle the arduous mental gymnastics it takes to ride at 165+ mph with no protection other than leathers and air, you're sure to reach a level of joy that few experience.
Lane splitting, a two-wheeled vehicle moving between lanes of vehicles that are proceeding in the same direction. Some people will tell you that Lane splitting is guaranteed by the 1st and 14th Amendments of the Constitution of the United States.
Some may say that you save on gas and reduce green house gasses; others will say that lane splitting reduces traffic. Find the one reason that works for you and keep it close to your heart, nurture it, care for it, take real good care of it. Better yet make a sign, walk up and down the street with this sign to let the world know how YOU feel about lane splitting.
With the recent death of 13-year old Peter Lenz at Indy, everyone has been freaking out out over the safety of motorcycle racing and was this kid too young to race. To get a good scope of the situation, you have to look at all youth sport programs. Football, Soccer, Martial Arts, and Cheerleading all pose significant risk to children who compete in them, and the parents assume that risk as well. Motorcycle racing is no different.
So, it's my second time out at Nelson Ledges. Let's just say my first go round wasn't confidence inspiring. How about I paint the masterpiece for you. Picture me, 220lbs of man in a set of old 2 piece leathers that were, let's not mince words, tight as hell. What reason possessed me to squeeze my fat ass into these things is beyond comprehension, but everyone on the track got a great look of my ass crack as I passed them, or better yet, as they passed me. I was a little shook.
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