The suit feels stiff. The zipper determined not to budge. The protective pads feel awkward. The plastic part of a junior prom gone bad. Yet as I snap the last buckle on the boot and listen to the loud pop which suggests that the strap running across the top of my foot is now locked into place, I can't help but wish that the rocket scientists who developed thermoplastic had something for a bruised ego. But they don't, so instead I'm left to my own devices. Left to battle my own demons.
Walking into the garage, it's hard to imagine that its been just six days since I laid the 999 down for the very first time.
Returning to Rearsets
While the jet lag that goes along with international travel is never any fun, I’ve got to say that coming home to find shiny new motorcycle parts eagerly waiting to be unboxed is one of the great joys of the moto-world! Certainly makes waking up … Read More →