Posted this over on Busa Nation. Lots of people liked it so I'll post here as it's on topic.
The first motorcycle I ever saw up close was in New Mexico. My father took me to a race and I didn’t even know what I was watching. There was no “I have to do that†sort of feeling watching the race; I was mostly just fascinated with the bikes themselves.
My passion for motorcycling didn’t really begin until several years later when I was 12. My father bought me one of those Sears mini bikes with the lawnmower engine. From there it was onto a Suzuki trail bike. I soon had that old Suzuki TS125 stripped like a motocrosser. The bike was a fixer-upper, so I spent many hours in the garage working on it for every hour getting it dirty.
Then one day I got to climb aboard a friend’s new Suzuki RM370. That was the first time I experienced power in its most brutal, intoxicating form. It was the type of power that imprints itself on your psyche; one of those experiences that fits forever in your memory between your first true love and your worst nightmare.
I would read everything I could about motorcycles. I was interested as much in the technology as I was in riding them. I read about engines, suspensions, and the history of different bikes. In high school I designed a suspension system that used linkages to achieve greater wheel travel from a smaller shock. My parents put up the money for a patent search and we discovered that my design was really similar to one already patented a couple years earlier by Honda. The fact that Honda beat me to it wasn’t disappointing though, it made me believe maybe I could be good at this. So I started looking for a way to be a part of professional motorcycling. Unfortunately back then there weren’t many roles in professional motorcycle racing for Blacks, or even amature racing for that matter. I soon found myself at Virginia Tech and Architecture replaced engines as my favorite past time.
So the years zipped past without bikes and my life was focused on adult problems, stresses, buildings, and obligations. One Saturday about 4 years ago I was running errands and I drove past the dealership I used to go to back when I was riding dirt bikes. I remember thinking back then that one day I was going to come into that dealership and buy any bike I want, maybe even a couple bikes. Walking into the dealership that Saturday it hit me that the day was today; I could buy any bike I want, even a couple! A few hours of indecision later and the salesman convinced me to start slow with a bright red Suzuki SV650.
Until the day I got that SV home, I had never ridden on the street but I fell madly in love with it in less than a block. The SV was slow but nimble and very fun to ride. It was also easy to ride aside from a monster amount of engine breaking. I re-learned the dynamics of riding quickly on the SV. After a few days I realized that street riding was actually more fun to me than dirt riding. Off-road was more about technique and much more physical. Riding on a road was more like a chess game, a lot of thinking and only a few critical skills to master. Sure, the stakes were much higher but that made it even more seductive. If I had done this 20 years ago I would have been racing bikes, no doubt about it.
After only 2 months I knew the SV wasn’t enough. My need for that feeling of electricity I had experienced on the RM370 still burned in the back of my mind after 25 years. I went back to the dealer for a bigger bike. When I walked into the dealer’s showroom, I walked up to an 2008 orange & black Hayabusa. I had been studying the bike and it’s history, wondering what 180 horsepower in a 500 lb bike would be like. Leaning there on it’s kickstand it looked like a prize bull waiting for the gate to drop, daring anyone to stay onboard for more than a few seconds. Here was a legend, the fastest motorcycle on the planet and it was mine for the taking. But I was an old man with lots of responsibilities I thought, this was crazy.
As had been the case so often in my adult life, I did the sensible thing, I bought a Suzuki Bandit 1250. The Bandit is an awesome bike. What the bandit lacked in street credibility it more than made up for in personality and spunk. The 1250 was so good in fact that the only thing I ever regretted about the Bandit was selling it.
On a Friday afternoon I headed out on the Bandit for my usual quick ride. As I came around a corner a truck crossed into my lane and ran me off the road. I had to bury that Bandit and I broke my shoulder. I had actually said that I would give up riding after my first crash. But It was a strange experience, not at all what I expected. I made all the right decisions in the accident. I didn’t cross my lane even when the oncoming truck forced me into the ditch beside the road. I didn’t get twisted with the controls or panic, I put the bike right where I wanted and would have walked away without a scratch had my foot not been caught on the bars as I made my exit. I remember hitting the ground and hearing my shoulder snap, then laying there upside down and taking inventory on working parts – “fingers work, legs work, arms moving, not so bad – looks like we dodged that bulletâ€. The police drove me home and I walked into the house and told my wife hello, I had a little accident, the bike was towed but I am fine. then I told her I was going out for a minute and I went to the hospital to get looked at. No way I was letting on how bad my shoulder felt. I replaced the Bandit even before my shoulder was healed and I could ride again. When I got back on the bike I was more comfortable than ever riding, there was no fear at all.
Over the next few years I put upgrade after upgrade on that second Bandit. It was a childhood dream fulfilled. I loved wrenching and riding and the Bandit and I did that every weekend. The Bandit got faster and faster and was the very definition of an over-achiever. Then I ran out of things to do to it. I had done the exhaust, added a TFI, cut the air box, upgraded the suspension, and a host of other things. There was just nothing left to do to the bike.
One Saturday I sat in the garage looking at the Bandit, the Bandit looking at me. It was time to give up on sensible and buy the RM 370 of my adulthood. I didn’t want to wonder about the Busa the rest of my life, I had to know what it felt like to command that kind of thrust. I went to the dealer and bought a silver/silver 2009 Hayabusa.
The day I picked her up was like a hundred Christmases. As a grown man, you just don’t get many of these moments. They brought the bike out and the whole dealership was there to see her off. Mine was the first 09 out the door, although it was the second one sold. I climbed on her and set the mode selector to “Câ€, the tamest selection. I rolled on the throttle and the beast felt like, well sort of like my Bandit! I switched to “B†mode, then “Aâ€. Still the legend felt like my Bandit, much higher feel of quality but this was no raging bull, the Busa was a very friendly ride.
I stuck to the Suzuki break-in procedures to a tee. I was looking down at the odometer when it clicked to 1000 and I dropped the hammer in 2nd gear. The bike roared, lifted the front wheel about 18 inches off the road and carried it there through 3rd gear. The Hayabusa will amaze you every time you ride it. Whether it’s how civilized the bike is at normal speeds, how crazy the warp drive is, or how a 500 lb bike can get down into a sweeper, the bike is like nothing else on the road.
It was less than a year before I tore the Busa apart. I started fixing and upgrading, even a little paint to make her unique. I love riding this bike and I love working on it too. A lot of people buy a bike like this for all the wrong reasons. If you don’t respect it the Busa will kill you, it’s always capable of exceeding your ability. But the ride on country roads dropping into a curve, blasting to speeds you wouldn’t believe possible, or just putting around, exploring your relationship with the bike becomes almost spiritual.
A guy my age should know better. I’ve heard more than a few times that I’m going through a mid life crisis or something. But the truth is that day I rode the Suzuki RM370 I started a journey that led me to the Hayabusa. I could pretend to be a sensible, professional, responsible adult. But the bottom line is I could either listen to my heart and own a Hayabusa or pretend to be responsible and want to own one.
to the Busa.
I sold the other bike in less than a week.
