Sunday Morning. A lovely sunny day, perfect riding conditions. Still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sent a bit of a random text to a mate who lives over 100 miles away; “Fancy meeting up for a ride out and then coming over for a BBQ?”
I got the answer I was hoping for and we arranged to meet somewhere in the middle.
So I got on my Black Z750 which I don’t use nearly enough and hit the road. It was just right; dry and sunny but not too warm. A few less cars on the road would have been nice but what can you do? Nothing apart from overtake them of course.
We met up had a chat about the ride and then set of to a nearby dealership “just to have a look”. Outside the garage there sat a lovely looking Triumph Speed Triple. We had a bit of time to spare so I blagged a test ride on said bike for a bit of fun. What could possibly go wrong?
As it happens nothing went wrong. In fact it all went right, too bloody right. It felt so right it must have been wrong. The bike seemed to know exactly where I wanted to go and obediently, straining at the leash rushed to get there in the most pleasurable way imaginable. The bike was so responsive and delivered the seemingly never ending power to the wheels smoothly but with a raw edge. Gulp!
I arrived back at the dealership with a shit eating grin (what does that mean exactly) spread across my face. Oh dear.
My fate was sealed and although it took me a couple of days of wrestling with my conscious (I don’t “need” a new bike) and my mortgage (hiding the cost over a 25 year mortgage seems sensible to me) I placed the order for the new machine.
I’ve found a buyer for the Z750 (bye bye) and should be picking up the new Speed Triple in Matt Black (only 100 made so I must be an individual and carving my own niche in life?) in a couple of weeks.
Mid life crisis? What mid life crisis?
I’ll let you know how it is and post a photo when it arrives.