I’ve ridden motorcycles for quite a while but there was a space approaching 20 years when I didn’t own one of my own.  Unfortunately, I found myself in the position of depending on the “kindness of strangers” for my infrequent two-wheel fix.

When I sold my 1978 Suzuki GS550 Four, most of the bikes I had ridden would be considered “standards” using today’s classification.  I don’t recall many people having anything that looked remotely like today’s “crotch rockets,” except maybe the professional road racer.  During the ensuing years, the motorcycle’s I would have an opportunity to grab a quick ride on would also be considered standards or possibly cruisers, although we didn’t call Harley’s cruisers.  In fact, most of the Harley’s I came across during that time were either the older “hard tail” models, or of the “chopper” variety, but no crotch rockets, and actually, no cruisers yet either. 

I would go down to the local motorcycle shop from time to time and when I looked at the new “sport bikes,” I thought they were for professional racers or at the very least, someone who wanted to become a professional racer.  Horsepower in those days, for most riders, was usually in the high 30’s or low 40’s with Norton having an amazing 60 horsepower.  I almost bought a Norton Atlas in 1969, rubber mounted, and sporting a full 60 bhp for those who were bold enough.  A 750 cc or 800 cc engine was considered big for the average rider, which pretty much described my riding style.  These new sport bikes often had over a hundred horsepower. Damn, and double damn!

Now fast forward 20 years and I’m getting back into the sport (hobby?) and I see, on the Internet, that Triumph has reintroduced the Bonneville. Hot damn, I want one of those so I ran to my local Triumph dealer, and put $500 down, hard money,  on a new Bonneville.  That was in March 2001.  To my amazement, the new Bonnie was now 790cc’s and 61 hp. More than enough.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a Bonnie until October but now I didn’t want to wait. I ended up buying a used 1995 BMW R100RT with 60 hp.  It turned out to be a great bike and, by the way, why didn’t someone tell me about windshields and bags. They’re great and make long distance touring a snap.

Anyway, I’m out on the open roads getting used to my powerful new Beemer when a couple of “crotch rockets” blast by me like I’m standing still.  Scared the stuffing out of me, it did.  I certainly didn’t want to ride one of those things.  Dangerous.  Crazy.  Too damn fast.  Geez, I’m starting to sound old.  Besides, those guys dress funny.

Then I take the Beemer in for service and the dealer gives me a loaner.  Out comes a Triumph 955i, a crotch rocket.  Hey, I can’t ride this thing.  Sorry, that’s all we have available.  If you want to bring yours back in a couple of weeks we can reserve something different.  No, I’ll take the damn thing.
So I climb on this thing and feel like a monkey humping s football, and off I go.  First off, the thing is as light as a feather compared to my Beemer.  Second, it’s got horsepower up the kazoo.  Third, it handles like a dream and forth; it’s a hell of a lot of fun!  Oh, oh, I’m starting to like this thing. 

Still, there are some things I don’t like.  I don’t like the fact that leaned over like that; my shoulders get in the way of my seeing out my mirrors.  I see mostly my shoulders.  I have to kind of drop a shoulder and then quickly turn my head to see what’s coming.  I start to merge onto the freeway and I see a Yamaha sport bike with a passenger over in the fast lane.  No problem, I merge into the slow lane, then over into the next lane when all of a sudden, that Yamaha blasts by me, on my right side, in my lane.  I see him as he disappears back into the fast lane up ahead.  Who was that masked man?  I damn near soiled myself.  I’m not sure, but I think I had just been challenged.  Since I wasn’t wearing all of those red, white, and black leathers the crotch rocket rider usually wear, he probably spotted that I was on the wrong type of bike with my synthetic “First Gear” touring jacket and all.  He was just poking a little fun at me.

When I would crank on the throttle of that 955i, away this puppy would go; head into an onramp or off ramp and your molded into the bike, leaning way over.  My Beemer is a fine handling machine but we’re talking apples and oranges here.  Reluctantly I take the 955i back to the dealer at the end of the day.  I climb back aboard my trusty RT and head home with a new appreciation of crotch rockets.

Do I now want one?  Nah, there fun but there not for me.  I don’t race and I’m at that age where I want to appreciate the scenery, not stayed glued to the road ahead.  I’m at the age where I appreciate a good sauce, but I still enjoy a spicy entrée once in a while.  I wouldn’t mind taking a crotch rocket out once in a while but I wouldn’t spend good money for one.  They’re obviously aimed at those who love speed more than the ride.  I love the ride more than speed.

I have to say that those who do ride them seem to be having a lot of fun but I also regret that way too many of them are ending up dead on the side of the road.  When the power of the machine surpasses the power of your body to react to changing conditions, there’s trouble ahead.  Too many of my crotch rocket riding brethren don’t seem to be making it to my age.  What a shame; they may have found that a cruiser or a tourer will give them all of the enjoyment that speed used to.  Well, at least it can come close.