This year my old bike, Feisty, an Aprilia Pegaso 650, went past the MOT deadline and I was stuck looking for parts. I decided to sell her because she spent far more time in the garage (or in bits) than she did on the road. I needed something more reliable and, when my friend offered me his BMW F650GS for a decent price I went for it.
Just getting the bike, which I have named Scarlet, took quite a long time and a lot of hassle. Buying things just ain’t easy out here. After two months of waiting, bureaucracy, powers of attorney, police stations, and a lot of driving around, we finally concluded the deal. To give you an idea of just how bizarre the entire process was, I paid the cash and received the documents at a handover located in an empty psychiatric hospital at just before midnight. Definitely an odd location to be wandering around at night in Eastern Slovakia with a wad of cash in your pocket. There is a logical explanation to it, though – and the memory definitely beats signing some form at a dealership.
I’m still not used to riding Scarlet. I thought she would have been a lot easier than Feisty but there are things I’m having to get used to (drastic jerking engine braking, a lighter front end, etc.). Being without Feisty, even for just a few weeks, made me feel like someone had cut my balls off. I’m not the biggest biker in the world, and I’m definitely not a decent rider, but not having an iron steed made me feel like something huge was missing in my life. The only time I feel I’m truly Zen is when I’m on two wheels – utterly in the here and now, if for nothing else than safety’s sake.
It’s ironic but I always wanted to get a (qualified) V-Twin tattoo. For some reason, I keep buying single cylinder enduros… Guess I’ll have to get one of them tattooed instead.
Born to Ride. Ride to Live, Live to Ride. At least at weekends when the weather’s nice… 
I know it’s clichéd but it makes me grin and, now I’m back on two wheels, I feel like grinning, so here’s a classic:
