Somewhere, a Prius owner is crying into his soy latte; the pint sized track bike is finished, it runs, and it burns fossil fuels at a rate which causes a flow-on surge in oil supply and prices on the NASDAQ.  It’s also quick.  Not MotoGP quick, but quick enough to embarrass some very expensive Italian exotica (when they can get ‘em running).

Quick enough that it feels like it’s taking the piss, taking liberties, and taking distance in every corner.

Running a new bike is sometimes a leap of faith, you have to trust that each nut, bolt, wire is correctly inserted, fixed, connected.  Blind faith, the steering damper that catches on the right air duct, the shock bolt that wasn’t locktighted (no problem, any bolts that fall off are easily retrieved from the bottom of the race fairing) – minor issues aside, two track days later; the bike built of spare parts and off casts still runs.

It’s an adjustment going from a litre to a pint – I couldn’t help but hit the rev-limiter in every gear waiting for the surge of power that was sitting contained on another bike; depravation extends to losing 75 rear wheel horsepower.  But, the lightness translates.  A very famous bloke said to go faster, add lightness, the difference in mass is astonishing, the bike turns in quicker, braking can be left well past any sensible braking markers, and the throttle can be twisted hard against the grip with reckless abandon...

Of course braking too late, or backing the bike into corners is best left to people with skills.  As 3 cracked ribs will attest.  But, shit happens, it was fast on the day and bones mend (or in the infamous words of the one and only Evel Kneivel "Bones Heal, Chicks Dig Scars, Pain is Temporary, Glory is Forever")