Day 2, ~390 miles for the day...
All I've gotta say is this:
Oh. My. God.
Shoulda done this years ago and I haven't had the guts to hit the dirt yet. Waiting on crash
This motorcycle, this wonderful, wonderful, motorcycle, with its rough edges and attitude and just
pure competence, was made for what I do. Smooth roads...look through the corner, roll it on. Rough
roads...look through the corner, roll it on. Absolute crap roads, broken pavement, cinders, fricken
aliens attacking...look through the corner, roll it on.
The monster was right.
Wretched...the first oil change.
Excess...the swearing to go along with the first oil change.
Wretched...on/off throttle transitions and surging/hunting at small throttle openings.
Excess...what you get if you ride it correctly--like not at small throttle openings.
So I have this theory that it's not a dirt bike if you can't pick it up. As I got comfortable with
the 990 and began running more in gentle dirt/fire roads, this became a major concern. Nuthin' to
do but drop her on the lawn and give 'er a try.
Wretched....me after picking up the bike.
Excess...What this big girl weighs!
Wretched...slow going over rough trail conditions.
Excess...what she demands in order to work well in the dirt!
Wretched...the inability (on stock scorps) to lift the front on power alone.
Excess...the fact that you get just as much wheelspin at 70 as at 20 in the dirt when you crack the
Back to the story...
After a weekend of this:
Just to remind the VFR that I've not forgotten her, it's back to KTM-ville.
Now, if you hang here (ADV) much, you can't avoid hearing references to the Orange Kool-aide.
Just so ya know? No such thing. Nope. Doesn't exist.
Got a nice GPS with the bike, but no Kool-aide. None. Not a drop.
That said, the bike DOES come with a whole load of MIND ALTERING SHIT! An unlimited supply of
something mind-altering is clearly contained somewhere on/in/around the bike. Maybe it's an aerosol.
But it is SOME GOOD SHIT.
Every spare moment is spent anticipating the next ride. It's been years since a bike has had this
effect on me.
Must. Ride. Now.
My commute to work is four small-town blocks. Four.
It's now grown to include this:
every morning and most evenings. 20+ miles, twisties, dirt, whatever.
Just RIDE! MOOOOOOOORRRRRREEEEEEE!
No idea what I'll do when the snow flies again, which given the spring we've had oughta be about
It's MOTO-CRACK, and I WANT MORE! MOREMOREMOREMOREMORE!
My family no longer waits for me for dinner, in fact sometimes they're in bed when I get home. This
is getting bad.
The UPS driver has taken to pulling up, opening the door, and taking cover while I run into the
truck, grab boxes, and dash, cackling, into the garage.
Bar risers, mirror relocator, sidestand relocator, crash bars, luggage racks, gps, radar mount,
fusebox, TuneEcu cable, exhaust, expensive oil, blah, blah, blah....
Reason asks, "Who in the HELL builds a bike like this?
Stuff fits weird, it's fiddly, it requires
constant attention....heck, you even need a freakin' computer to ADJUST THE THROTTLE CABLE!
Who thinks this stuff up? It demands premium gas, gets crap mileage (for a bike), and is GOING TO
SEND YOU TO JAIL!"
Can't hear any of it. None. ZERO. Reason can BITE ME
. I'm too busy getting it just. exactly.
Occasional giggles escape unintentionally at the dinner table as I consider my next ride; eyes roll
but no one asks because they don't want to hear about it--again.