I walk back outside and some of the neighborhood kids come running up to me yelling, “Motorcycle man, motorcycle man” and they ask me all sorts of questions while I uncover my bike and do a pre ride check.

Once I get done looking things over, putting on my gear, and answering all sorts of questions like, “What’s that?” and “Why do you wear a helmet?” it’s time to fire up the bike. I ask the kids to step back just a bit and press the ignition switch. The engine kicks over and I give the throttle a little twist to impress the kids.

I pull out of the driveway and sit at the stop light for a few minutes until a car comes up behind me. The city put in these great pressure plates a while back, but my bike just isn’t really heavy enough to trip them. It doesn’t really bother me all that much I guess; it sort of gives me another minute to let the bike warm up and for me to get used to the idea that I’m sitting on a three hundred and eighty pound rocket.

The light finally flashes green, and my heart stops for just a second. Here we go, this is what I’ve been waiting for. I pull out slowly and make a left across the street. As I finish the turn I lean the bike back up and hammer on the throttle while leaning forward just a bit. The bike jumps forward and all I can do is hang on. I rev right up second gear and barely have time to bang it into third. As I go up into third I’m a little further back in the seat and when I snap the clutch out, the front wheel hovers just a little off the ground. The wheel sets back down and I take a quick look down at the speedometer to check how fast I’m going. Just a touch over seventy as I ease off the throttle a bit. Not bad for the first five hundred feet of my ride.

I take it down a notch and work my way through town at a comfortable speed. No tickets yet, please. I finally pull up to the entrance to the highway and do a quick scan for cops. None to be seen. A small smile creeps onto my face as a slammed Honda pulls up next to me and starts to rev his engine. Goddamn, I hope these punks never learn. I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s checking me out. He wants it, I can tell. I give a sharp pull on the throttle to let him know that I’m game and then the light turns green. Sure as shit the little punk floors it. What fun! No wheels off the ground this time. I tuck my head down and just hammer on the throttle as hard as I can and pull onto the ramp, then bang, I’m in second, then third, and I have some time for a quick mirror check. He’s not even close.

Now comes the humiliation. I pop up to fourth and cut it loose, the v-twin beneath me roars as I slap it up to fifth. I peek at the speedo .. one hundred and three and climbing. A quick shift to sixth and about 4 seconds after I left the light I’m on the freeway and doing a solid hundred and five. The Honda’s about half way down the ramp. Never even had a chance. Punk. I slow down a bit and wait for the Honda to pass. He does, trying not to look at me. Damn it, today is going to be a good day.

I stop at the bridge toll and pay my two bucks, and it’s off again. I keep pace with traffic for a bit until I hit the foot of the bridge to be sure I don’t get nicked in a speed trap, then it’s all open. I tuck in as small as I can and shift back down to fifth. Roll the gas on and we’re moving. 70 .. 75 .. 80 .. shift back to sixth .. 90 .. 100 .. 105 .. I’m holding my breath now. I grip the bars as hard as I can and seat my ass way back in the seat to keep my profile as low as possible .. 110 .. 115 .. I see an opening in the traffic up ahead and start to aim for it .. 120 .. my helmet has pressed against my face now and my teeth are clenched .. 122 .. I’m almost to the top of the bridge, but I hold onto it for just another second .. 126 .. 127 .. she’s topped out, and I’ve reached to top of the bridge. I ease off the throttle and sit up a bit. The wind slows me down pretty fast and I get down to a normal speed again pretty fast.

I’ll never forget the time I was on this bridge going full out and a minivan pulled out into my lane about two hundred feet in front of me. Trying to find just the right point where my rear wheel wouldn’t lock at 110 mile an hour was not a high point. But I’m still here, so I guess I must have done ok.

A few exits up I pull off on to route 84 and start my ride for real. I traverse another town at comfortable speeds, especially at the base of La Honda road, because the cops are out here for one thing and one thing only... to bust crazy motorcycle drivers. It’s all for good reason I guess, as there is almost always at least one major crash on Sky Line per weekend, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to get nicked before I even start my ride. So even when the guys on the R1s slide past me at the lights, I keep it in check and wait my turn proper. I reach the bottom of La Honda and it all starts to become worthwhile.
I warm my tires up a bit on the last quarter mile or so before the road breaks off, and as I’m rocking the bike from side to side I really start to get pumped. This is what it’s all about. My brain goes empty and my pulse picks up. I get a little presquirt of adrenaline into my blood and then I’m there. I roll into the first turn and it’s mother fuckin’ on.

I push the bars hard and lean into the turn while holding my speed. As I reach the apex of the turn I roll the throttle on and sink the bike just a little more. I pull the bike back up and roar down the straight and set up for the next turn. I slide my ass off the seat this time and hold the throttle a little tighter for this turn and push the bars up far enough to rest my elbow on my high knee and the low peg just starts to scrap the pavement as my bike roars out of the corner.

This goes on for about three miles and then I come out onto Skyline Boulevard and the famed Alice’s Restaurant .. not for the song mind you, but for the fact that Sky Line is one of the best spots to ride in the entire country, and Alice’s is the meeting place for literally hundreds of motorcyclists every weekend. The place is literally packed with people talking about bikes, looking at bikes, swapping bike stories and tips. And then there’s the bikes .. during the course of a day you can see almost any sort of bike ridden by almost every sort of rider. I’ve seen a vintage one cylinder Harley next to thirty thousand dollar Ducati with both the riders admiring the others' ride and talking about how they got their bikes and where they like to ride and stuff like that. Alice’s is sort of the heart of the motorcycling in the bay area, and nearly everyone there on a Saturday afternoon has one goal in mind. To put some pavement under them.

After hanging out for a bit I decide to get going and hop back on my bike. I pull out of Alice’s and take it easy past the crowd of people. I’ve seen too many squids try to pull a crowd pleaser of some sorts and wind up making a complete ass of themselves in front of a hundred people as they flip a wheelie or crash a stoppie to even bother with it. I save it all for the corners that are about to come. I get a little ways away from Alice’s and I turn it on again. Here comes my shot of adrenaline and once again I’m off. This time it’s a bit different though. This is my favorite part of every ride, this one stretch of road. It’s full on nice gentle sweepers and I don’t really have to slow down. At all.

I roar through the corners I get my bike way down low and my head is turned almost sideways as I look through the turn. Every corner is another chance to twist the throttle a little more and by the time I reach the next Vista Rest point I can barely hear the scream of the engine over the screams of joy in my helmet. There truly isn’t anything better than this. The euphoria I feel when I park my bike after a hard ride is not all that unlike the feeling of rolling over for a cuddle after great sex.

I’ll sit in my chair and shake for an hour or so after I get home, and the grin on my face is next to impossible to wipe away. Yup, for me there are few things better than riding my bike, and there sure as hell isn't anything like it.