Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Not Your Granddad's Rubber Cow

Well, it happened. I replaced my burned-down motorbike. It was a sad process, as I went to the shop and said my goodbyes to the little beemer that could. It had delivered me coast-to-coast and through tens of thousands of spirited miles. I'll miss its simplicity, exhaust note, dignified presence, elegant lines, and talking to people about it.
I wanted to keep it and rebuild it, but as the last installment in the SC-vs-Jeff Middle Finger Contest went, the SC DMV wouldn't issue me a salvage title for the bike since I was no longer there. Nevermind everything else is perfectly in order... So, it was hauled up onto a flatbed truck and carted off to a scrapyard.
But... My insurance company must have felt bad, so they gave me some moolah. With it I bought a new flat twin--the R1100S. Though grief stricken, I made the right choice. It was not a mistake.

The motorcycles are different in so many ways, I'll spare you the numbers and stats. Perhaps the most expressive and honest difference, I'll call "The 9X mph comparison."
At 9X miles per hour, the little toaster felt primitive--like I had suddenly strapped on a Mercury capsule. The fire in its belly was deafening through wind-blast, helmet, earplugs. My eyes rattled around in their sockets. It is as if the toaster was yelling, "OMFG, WE'RE GOING FREAKING 9X MILES PER HOUR!!! CAN YOU FREAKING BELIEVE THIS‽‽‽"
The 1100S sounds more like this: "zzzzzz, wha?" Seriously. I tea-cup sipped the throttle (pinky finger out) on my first interstate ramp roll-on and I was going 8X mph before the white line dashed. 9X miles per hour honestly happened on accident and so comfortably that I'm sure the challenge now will not be based in parameters of physics, but in parameters of legality.
I cannot afford a traffic ticket so I'll tone it down (...) but damn.
The new bike's pedigree is obviously refined as its predecessor, the toaster, would demonstrate. It is dignified, comfortable, and well mannered. But as they called the old Beemers "Rubber Cows" for the wiggly-ness of their handling characteristics, it seems that the new generation has learned a thing or two. Namely, throttle, braking and steering. When they say, "it corners like it's on rails," this is what they mean.
Enjoying as many seconds as possible. And now on a machine that might be better at keeping up with the girlfriend's Ducati. Which is due out of the shop right about... Now. Gotta go.