I haven’t been on either of the bikes since before my degallbladderisation (yes, that’s the correct terminology, I checked and everything).
I’ll admit that the weather has been really awful for the last three weeks.
We’ve had snow, ice, extreme rain, and more ice; but that hasn’t been the reason for my lack of two-wheeled action.
For the last few weeks the possibility of sitting on a supersportsbike and assuming the magic position (or the position where the magic happens?) has been far outside of my comfort zone.
In a post-op kind of way.
The scars and the glue and the swellings and bruising don’t make for easy bending.
But today I’m determined to take both bikes out (not at the same time, obv).
Even if it’s just for a couple of relatively minor six-mile trundles around the block.
Or maybe a couple of brief runs down to Melton Mowbray and back.
I’ve been regularly starting the bikes up, and running them to warm.
But just sitting there, listening to the polished idle of the triple-cylindered 955i, and the deeper, grumblier, throatier, angrier rumble of the four-cylindered ZX9R has not been easy for me.
Today, however, I feel comfortable about getting in to that position.
Today is the day the bikes get a little roadwork.
Just as soon as I’ve finished this cup of tea.
And just as soon as I’ve listened to this gratuitously-placed, but appropriately-titled, piece of Manic Street Preachers goodness.
Now, you be careful out there: it’s a bit windy and getting blown off… is a great thing to do before going out for a motorcycle ride.
Ahem, young Masher. Ahem! I didn’t get blown off. Or, for that matter, sucked off (which, as any schoolchild could tell you, is a totes different thing to getting blown off). I had a nice jolly around the local area and then washed the bikes down, cleaned and lubed the chains, and put them away, ready for someone to come along and buy them.
You said ‘lubed’ *snigger*
I always keep plenty of lube handy. Just in case. You know.