I've been doing some major spring cleaning in my garage. All of my toys had become old, stale and boring. Well, not so much my America, but the other bikes (CBR 600 F4 and Intruder 1400) just weren't doing it for me anymore. So, last Saturday, I decided to putt down to a local dealership on my America and ...
I've been doing some major spring cleaning in my garage. All of my toys had become old, stale and boring. Well, not so much my America, but the other bikes (CBR 600 F4 and Intruder 1400) just weren't doing it for me anymore. So, last Saturday, I decided to putt down to a local dealership on my America and see what they had for trade. Walked in and set eyes on the Thunderbird 1700 with black/red haze paint scheme. I nearly wept. Now, don't get me wrong, I absolutely, without a doubt loved my America. I mean, we went places together. She was a 2008, I bought her with 0 on the odo and when I left her, she was near 14K. TORS, no AI, performance coils, wires and plugs with K&N filters in the stock air box. Even put the LED replacement in the speedo for that fire/evil red glow. She was my mistress. But, God as my witness, when I laid eyes on that 104 cu. in. seductress in the show room, I knew I had to do it. So, a couple hours later, I was starting her up and getting ready to roll from the shop. The initial start. Holy mother of pearl. She fired up, snarled at the other bikes around her and purred when I twisted the throttle a little. Talk about making the earth move. That lope everyone is writing and talking about? It's there. It's there to remind you that you're not straddling your grandpa's Thunderbird. It's there to remind you that this is why you ride motorcycles and look at the other suckers in cars on your commute with a smile on your face and extra beats in your chest. Fleeing the incarceration of the parking lot, she begged to be turned loose on the street. Mothers with young children cautioned their children to look away. Old men stopped as if they were recalling the distant thunder of mortar fire in the fields of France. Dudes on anything else looked down on their own rides with a mild feeling is disdain. People in cars sensed that they were somehow being deprived of an experience. Cage dwellers... A ribbon of tarmac unfolded in front of us as we left the confines of the city. Being careful not to over wind the new engine, I began by gently spooling up to 3K to shift gears. She didn't like that much; she wanted to show me more. Patience. Patience. Rolled on some miles here and there over the past few days and am much closer to 500 miles. Still being gentle, but twisting the throttle in any gear yields the same result: mental hard on. Is a 1700 worth it? If you have to ask, maybe you should stick with a gal that's a little more tame; something that won't spank you in public and make you feel like you deserved it. As for me, every single time I throw my leg over this bike and hit the starter, it's like a direct injection of adrenaline; mainlining nicotine and snake venom.