As the last leaves of Autumn fall, I must force myself to do my least favorite thing. I have to winterize my R6.

Motorcycle love isn't common in my family. In fact, in my entire family I'm the only person that owns a bike. Same goes for many a jalop. Here on Oppo and the front page most people stray away from them. Motorcycles have a bad reputation. Mostly inherited by those that ride them. Whether it be a pack of complete douche bags on rockets or a gang of bearded breatheren, bikes tend to frighten people. Hell, they scare the shit out of me at times.

Truth is though, and this is cliché to the core, motorcycles are the definition of road going freedom. Sure, your E30 will give you a great deal of road connection, but it does so while encompassing you in a dome of glass and steal. Bikes don't feel like vehicles to me. I like to think of my R6 as a superhero stead of alien origins. We are one, and she has her own personality. But together, we enjoy the roads as far as her gas tank will let us.

All the sounds, smells, everything attacks the senses. My heartbeat rises with the speedometer, and I never want to get off. It's a disease. A nasty, happy, soothing disease. I'm unreachable on my bike. It isn't like I can just answer a phone call while riding; even if I could, I wouldn't want to. Music blares through my head as the road changes direction. It's just us out there, my bike and I.


Simply put, there isn't a other object on this planet I love more than my R6. And until I'm ready to saddle up on a different beast, there won't be anything else I love more for a long time.

Winter can suck my balls, it deserves just that for stripping my freedom.