I beat this girl mercilessly. She's averaged more WFO throttle angle than most have. Well, hopefully anyway

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I don't mean abuse, I mean whipped in the spirit that Mr. Buell intended with every stroke of his genius and every tap on his calculator. Well maintained and ridden hard will always be better than languishing in the dusty corner of a freezing garage, sucking 2 milliamps off a tender while the tires rot into the concrete.

I'm telling this story because it needs to be told. A warning to others that get their heart rate up by taking risks. It's hard to explain why my risks are OK and yours are not, in fact theres a whole psychiatry thing about that, but I digress.

Chuckwalla Raceway:
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Very nice place, recently re-furbed and fast as Hell. See that wild 180+ curve in the upper right? Going clockwise thats turn 13 "The Bowl". 10/11/12 are all accelerating and the run to the super-speedway style heavily cambered sweeper #13 is downhill so you can see everything and smash the gas as far as you dare. The G force will compress your suspension to the max and the inevitable visions of shooting off the high side of that berm and not landing until you hit the Moon and bounce back to Earth are the only thing slowing you down.

Thats OK, been doing it for 2 days now. Faster and faster. It's late afternoon on the second day of daring yourself to just add another degree of twist to the grip, and this time it's all yours. That magical time where most are off track or going home early, no one around to distract or disturb the perfect line, just the wildly loud roar of the wind, that beautiful pop on an upshift, and setting up exactly where you want to be. Smooth, fast, hang on old guy, this ones gonna be great!

The flag stand waves the black flag and points. ****. I'm doing well over 110mph and no one else is near me. Quick check. ****. Boots are shiny with oil. Nightmare. Can't check up. Smooth is survival now, you're probably riding on an oily back tire. Still dragging your knee.

Leg out, hand up, whatever it takes to not get run over by the next racer. Theres only a few corners left to pit entry, so off the line and cruise. Dang thats a lot of smoke out the back.

This motorcycle. Number 24 of all ever built, has been nothing less than a stellar companion and willing partner for anything I could ask. From 10 hour days of touring and now a track bitch, she has been needy, but never demanding. Now I fear the worst.