Hooligan Rising

Yesterday I got my glorious 36 miles of riding for the week. It was, as you would expect, a lot of fun.

After a lot of cage-driving and car-pooling with minimal motorcycle-riding to keep me sane, getting back on the Triumph with it's outrageously good handling and gobs of power is a bit intoxicating.

Ok, I'll be honest, it's a lot intoxicating. Especially when the motor gets up around 11,000 RPM, the intake roars and the exhaust howls. I'm only human.

So when I see that the road I'm on is a bit congested, I tend to think "fast u-turn and alternate route" before I even think "I don't want to sit in that mess."

In fact, it's tempting to plant a foot and spin the bike around in a big, smokey burnout. The cost of tires, however, prevents such behavior (concerns about the legality are much lower on my list of deterrents).

I was also tempted to do a bit of sidewalk-riding and urban off-roading, Gary-style, but the Triumph doesn't take kindly to unpaved surfaces and curb-hopping. It was probably one of the few times I thought afterwards "Not having a KLR probably kept me out of trouble today."

All the same, I rode past an empty lot wishing I could just cut across it and pop out on the road on the other side, leaving a trail of fire and wreckage behind me.

Luckily for me, my mild-mannered alter-ego usually keeps my moto-Visigoth urges in check. Usually.