Road Rage

I purchased a motorcycle yesterday, my first. I’ve ridden a 50cc scooter for the last 6 months, which technically is a motorcycle; however, yesterday I bought a real one. I’m not a big guy: at about 5’7, and only 65 kilos, I’m what’s often called ‘diminutive’ (‘midget’ is another word I have heard now and again). My new bike is also not a monster, it’s a 250cc Kawasaki, a red ZXR from 1995, affectionately known as the Little Ninja.

I’ve noticed, since I’ve been in the market for a bike, how distinctive they all sound. There are bikes which roar and bikes which throb, bikes which putt and stutter, and then bikes which don’t even really sound like bikes, and purr along. My bike does none of these things. No, my bike screams. I must admit, in the past I’ve often been one of those people who tracks racing bikes as they pass, revs high, raising one eyebrow, and thinking, ‘Wanker.’ I repent. I’ve discovered that it’s impossible to ride this bike any other way. I was sitting at 80 km/h this morning on my way to work, in 6th gear – that’s the top one – and the bike was sitting comfortably at about 7,500 rpm. To put that in perspective should you not be mechanically minded, your car redlines about here, unless you’re driving something exceptional, like the Honda S2000, which will go to 9000 rpm. My little ninja redlines at a hysterical 18,000 rpm.

In short, it screams like a fiend out of hell, and riding it is like hugging a small demon (crouched over, thanks to the shape of the seat and handle-bars) which has escaped from the abyss and is screaming its rage at the sky. Now, compared to some of the big racing bikes – the Ducati Desmosedici RR, the MV Agusta F4, the BMW HP2 – it’s a bit of a foot-dragger. But for all that, it is an evil, evil machine, and I love it!


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