The perfect ride

Ever have a perfect ride?

My motorbike was ready, I was ready.  The weather had been cold and wet here recently in and around RAF Lakenheath, England.  I had installed a pair of Metzeler Sportec M3s and SBS brake pads less than 90 miles ago.  I finally got away from various commitments for a Saturday evening ride.  Some of the roads in this part of England curve and sway as they cut through forests and hills that have been here forever while paved roads are a relatively recent invention.  My Firecracker Red ‘00 ZX-6R felt like a new animal with its recent upgrades.  To my disappointment, as soon as I hit the road I was following three slow moving cars.  The first vehicle started to pull to the left shoulder (this is England you know).  This was my chance to make short order of three cars in a row.  After I accelerated to mach 1.5, I had an oh-S*!t moment—the second car started to cut me off.  No time to brake, must accelerate more! I soon hit mach 2.0 and was safely the leader in my lane.  My heart was beating itself to death, the adrenaline shook me a bit, but most importantly, I felt more alive than I had in weeks (since the last time I had a good ride).  I headed for the hills that connect the city of Thetford to the town of Watton.  With a little luck, there wouldn’t be any tractors or motorhomes on the crookedest (is that a real word) 12 miles that I know in the immediate area.  Pure bliss, I made short work of the slow moving cars and was soon in the lead.  In the lead of what you might ask, who cares, I was in the lead!  I was tearing up fast sweepers and numerous esses.  I was in the zone, neither my bike nor my concentration could fail me now.  I headed to the town of Littleport (William Sylvester Harley of the Harley-Davidson name hails from here) and on to Little Downham via the back roads of course.  As I approached the large roundabout (British for a traffic circle), I was able to push the limits of corning clearance to the max, just then I lost traction at the rear for what seamed like forever but in reality was a fraction of a second.  My instincts and training took over, I eased off the throttle while I pointed the front end slightly towards the direction of the slide.  I recovered in no time while I slowed a bit to recover from the rush.  What happened, I don’t know but my bike, training and a lot of practice had saved me from becoming a piece of used gum stuck to the road.  I took a detour onto a little used farm road to practice some quick stops.  Little by little the practice stops yielded shorter distances, soon I was modulating the front brake during maximum braking.  Conquering this task was just the grand finale to a wonderful two hour ride.  I went home satisfied that this was the “perfect ride”, until the next perfect ride...