‘THE PRICE OF OUR BIKING PLEASURE IS POLES APART’
Ninety. Thousand. Pounds. For a motorcycle. And not even a unique one, at that. My first house only cost £60k. But I’m not really complaining. If I had a spare £90k rubbing a hole in the sofa upholstery, I’d lob it at my nearest Ducati dealer. I don’t, though.
And while that’s a shame, I also won’t spare it a second Lottery-win-would-be-nice thought. What tickles my wallet more are the bikes in our 750s used guide this week (p52). I get a real kick out of getting a lot of bike for not a lot of cash. Sunny Sundays on quiet B-roads were made for bikes like these: Bikes that haven’t broken the bank, or come with mortgage-size repayment plans. Bikes that don’t require Fort Knox to get insurance, and that you can park outside a biker café without fear of walking away in case someone touches it.
I took my 1986 GSX-R750 Slabbie for a ride last weekend and don’t once recall thinking it lacked pace or panache. Braking power, maybe, but not enjoyment, attention or pleasure. There’s no moral to this missive beyond something we all know already: Love what you ride. Oh, and I really fancy that 851, if someone could ‘lend’ me £6.5k...