Or, the episode where Dave has an accident with a bike shop.
You see, I had it all planned out. I'd been watching TardMe like a hawk, had scoped a couple of bikes out and, this morning, had hatched a plan to go to Palmy to look at a couple. Including a new Kwaka ZX6 in an actual shop. I'd also, a few weeks back, gone into Motorad and asked if they had a demonstrator Street Triple: Nope, because they sell them as fast as they can get them in - there seems no real need. They took my number though and I was a little surprised to actually get the call saying they had one. So before heading up to Palmy it seemed to make sense to at least *try* the Street Triple to help build my palette, as it were - especially since one of the bikes I was testing was it's big brother Speed Triple. This is what caused me to be standing in Motorad this morning in full cordura regalia signing an insurance form.
I scope out the bike. Smaller than I expected and even narrower, particularly at the arse, than I thought it would be. I get a gentle warning about the tyres which, at 19k on the clock, are still shinier than I'm entirely happy with. It starts up and makes that *weird* noise that I'm not going to try and explain. You need to hear one. Not bad, weird. Hop on, in first, nice light clutch and join the traffic only to stop at a red light about thirty feet later. The light then does what red lights eventually do revealing a long, empty one way downhill which I then go down. Kinda quickly, actually.
So I give the bike a little test on my traditional route home. I'd ridden the Daytona 675 before and thought the engine was just the best thing ever. The Street's engine is, as best I can tell, basically identical. You twist the thing, it goes. The more you twist it, the more it goes. Once you're above, say, 2-3k RPM then the relationship between twist and torque is basically linear regardless of speed. Torque like a twin, revvy like a four, sounds like a triple. Smooth ... as a baby's arse. Not so the gearbox which was a tad notchy (and neutral was a bitch), but I think that can be expected of a new bike and a trumpet in particular.
Riding into the Mt Vic tunnel I suddenly notice the backlight on the instrumentation. More a very light grey than white. Tasteful, visible - although I found myself hunting for the actual speed once or twice - and basically kinda good really. The tachometer is in a slightly childish font but, so what.
On some quieter roads I give the bike a blip and straight away it reminds me of the Daytona. It stays flat and launches down the road. A litrebike riding nutcase would probably be disappointed but it's more than enough for me. A few twisties and you can begin to enjoy the Daytona chassis too although either the tyres or the significantly cheaper suspension makes itself known just slightly as you start to settle into the corner. Mid-corner there's no danger of spilling your gin and no sign of running wide as you come out on the throttle. The brakes, despite looking implausibly small, are able to turn small quantities of finger oomf into a reduction in speed in manner I hadn't seen since a quick go on a gixxer 750. Braided lines too. Hmmm.
So I take it to meet the Mrs. My better half is currently on her restricted and will get her full as soon as she pulls finger and takes the fucking test. Compatibility with her indoors is therefore a bonus and the little Street passes with flying colours. It also fits in the shed. She asks if I like it, which I do, and suggests that perhaps we should flag going to Palmy and just buy it. This may have been a bad move on her part.
I'm supposed to be at work so it's time to take the bike back. On the way back into town I start thinking about what she said. It's only a *couple* of kilodollars more than I was planning on spending anyway. And we now know that I'm 'in biking' for the long haul. And you do get a warranty. And it *is* my daily transport. And I sure as shit don't need the extra grunt from the 1050. And I love how light it is. And there is just no other way of getting an engine this good in a naked bike. And, above all else, the ride is awesome.
And this is how it came to pass that Glenn from Motorad, for one glorious hour on a thursday morning, had the easiest job of anyone in the bike industry. I got one in white, and should pick it up tomorrow.
So thanks, kinda, to Motorad for the ride. They've been prompt, courteous and pleasingly devoid of bullshit for all my dealings with them BTW so perhaps they're turning over a new leaf. I can only suggest that anyone in Welly interested in giving one of these fine steeds a whirl should get in touch with them, but offer the following as a word of warning: Remember kids, the first one is always free.
Dave
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