The possibility exists. However, 26th Oct MotoTT is a higher likelihood, given that on the 28th I'll waking up in Wellington, hella hung over.
You could also try 27th Oct, Suzuki trackday at Manfeild, although I'm not sure if I want anyone punting my precious around that dodgy goat track.
I have no idea just yet whether I'll have the Snail at any of the above events, though, given that it's still undergoing open-head surgery. I may simply be cruising past on the Mighty K1200 wearing my very best BMW rider's sneer and disdaining such childish antics as riding a motorcycle upon a racing circuit.
kiwibiker is full of love, an disrespect.
- mikey
the thing hxc realised and you obviously missed, was that i was taking the piss!
it always sounds better in ryhme.
Then I could get a Kb Tshirt, move to Timaru and become a full time crossdressing faggot
I thought it was quite good, but way too familiar. I have read things like this before. What I would suggest is having a go at writing the same scenario from the bikes POV. Give the bike a persona and let us know how it feels when the throttle is opened and it's given it's head, or how it struggles for grip when the bozo on board tries to outride the corner.
I'd give you and "Exceeds" for a good interpretation of that.
"Atomic batteries to power...turbines to speed..."
- Page 14 of the Buell Owners Manual
I liked itAll accept the part about it being a Suzuki
Now had you written it about riding a YAMAHA you would have rocked into the mark you wanted!
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CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!!!!!
With the turn of the key, I awake. I'm cold, so cold. It feels like I haven't taken a breath for a day or more, and my empty lungs long for relief. My feet feel flat and ache at the touch of the cold ground beneath them, but I know that soon they will be warm and regain their usual firmness.
I can feel the weight on my back shift and settle, and then the spark of life erupts from within deep inside my frame. The pungent fuel pumps into the barrels of my iron-like chest, sweet air is sucked in, mixed, and with a high voltage explosion, my crank begins to turn. I cough, bark and finally let out a guttural roar. My roar subsides to a self-satisfied burble and I can now feel the warmth start to flood through me.
The weight above me shifts again, and I can almost feel the smile leech across it's face. Yes, this may be the one. We might form a symbiosis, man and machine, but he has to prove his worth to me first.
He twists the throttle, allowing me to breath deeply and I roar again as we start to move down the pit lane and onto the track...
...Somebody else can take it from there...
"Atomic batteries to power...turbines to speed..."
- Page 14 of the Buell Owners Manual
I ask for nothing but to ride where ever the road calls
Diarrhoea is hereditary - it runs in your jeans
If my nose was running money, I'd blow it all on you...
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