A few things before we get into this…
   1)                       This is not a poetic abstract personification of something sensual.
   2)                       This is not a “Shock & Awe” campaign designed to get your attention.
   3)                    This was going to be played out on twitter out of an angry moment, but calmly on this blog is the way to go.

      Now a story… 

     I wasn’t home for 10 minutes when I got approached by my new neighbor while I was unloading my motorcycle. His machismo was obvious. He’s the kind of guy that has his shirt unbuttoned in the winter to show off how hairy his chest is. The kind of guy that wears shades at night because he thinks it makes him cool. To be clear, I could care less about the swagger of the next man, I’m just painting a picture for the sake of this story. (I am a novelist ya know) It wasn’t long before the testosterone in both of us rose to the surface. And of course… He pointed out his baby in the driveway and started to talk about how fast she is…

BMW M5… Indeed it is an impressive vehicle, and I told him that. But that wasn’t enough. He wanted to have “Sweet-Talk-Shit” conversation about who was the fastest. He asked me if my bike could go 220 miles per-hour because that’s what his car could do. (After modifications of course) and I had to look at this man and smile at his question. I proceeded to inform him that it really wasn’t about which vehicle could do 220 mph.
My exact reply verbatim: 

“Who wins that race depends on balls”
(Let’s pause here) For those who don’t race or ride, I would like to point out a few facts.
1)           AMA Super-bikes in the top class (1000cc) do about 220 in the “straights” 
   (the straightaway of the track)

2)           NASCAR races have about the same top speed in their straightaway as well. (give or take a few mph)

3)  There are land speed records of over 300mph, but these records have been broken in places like “The Salt Flats” of Arizona or some dessert somewhere by some land rocket with 50 miles of flat surface in every direction.

Despite these facts, cats always insist on talking shit like they could do that. When I was younger and much more naive, I used to believe that talk. I am older now, and I have been riding for 15 years. Yes I have pushed my bike to its limits and in the process, achieved some ridiculous speeds. After you get to 160mph though, the front of most bikes and cars gets incredibly light. (Due to the rush of air going underneath the vehicle, acting like lift does on an airplane) Not to mention that the perception of the rider changes as well. Also, at 160mph, when you look at a sign that says “EXIT 120 in 1 mile” by the time you blink your eye, you’re already passing that exit. Yes speeds that fast are indeed “spine tingling” to say the least. So to imply that you can not only do 220, but you can hold 220 on any busy American Highway with traffic on it, most of the times, is a bullshit claim. There are a choice few that can and have done it. But they’re in Cali or Arizona on some empty Highway with a true super-car like; Lamborghini  Ferrari, Porsche or some Fast & the Furious style aftermarket wonder. And again, even all of the conditions were perfect, you would need a huge pair of balls to execute such a performance.

(un-pause) So my neighbor didn’t have much to say after my reply. He just went into his house, occasionally looking back at me like…

“What the f*** was his problem”
The purpose of this rant was simple. Many a young boy (& old) have lost their lives having races like this for no reason. Just because cats are making claims about things they’ve never done. I am a very competitive man, and I used to fall into the trap of ego-vs-ego all the time. In doing so, I put myself in many precarious situations. To be honest with you, I am extremely fortunate to be alive writing this right now. Go to the track if you need to go that fast. And don’t believe any of the guys who make claims to be that fast, because the fact is, many of them cannot. In most cases their egos and mouths are bigger than their balls.

Until next time…