Before yall flame me, I do not condone street racing and have held my high speed runs when out riding to open interstates or deserted backroads but this twerp pushed me to far. This did take place on a road at the edge of town, nary a house or another car in sight. So, I am coming home late from work and hit a red light. This rather menacing, black GT Cobra pulls up next to me. I pay him no mind till he starts to do his best pro-stock staging act. I look over at him and he yells out the window "that thing have any balls"? I replied, "very large fuzzy ones".
He makes some snide comments about my full faired rig and something about training wheels. I asked him if his mom knew he had her car out? That set him off pretty good. Eyeing the stoplight going the other direction, checking mirrors for approaching cars, I slide the clutch out to where I can feel the bike start to pull and assume the fighter pilot position. Still at idle, the light changes and Cobra boy hammers it off the line (5 speed). I drop the clutch and dial in all the troops. Cobra has me by a car length. Speed shift to 2nd (oh crap, wheres my dremel tool now), at 8k. Front wheel lofts about 8-10 inches off the ground and the Cobra is now in my mirrors and falling behind. I shut down when I caught third and the Ford went streaking by with the young man behind the wheel saluting me with one finger.
I motor on home at a much more sedate speed grinning from ear to ear.
The old XS "still be bad".




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