I rolled along examining the ST1100 in front of me without finding a single thing, good or bad, that departed from the center of a motorcycling bell curve. How dull. I was a bit disappointed. I gave him some space and went back to pondering the scenery.
Five minutes later I spied another bike in my mirror. It was far behind but coming on hard. We went into another tight switchback and I heard an aggressive exhaust note against the rock walls. It was definitely a cruiser.
I presumed it was a riding partner to the unexciting ST1100 ahead. (I ride alone but most people don’t.) I was curious to see what kind of cruiser was hanging with the Ric Ocasek bike. The way it was closing distance I’d get a good look soon.
Two more switchbacks and the mystery cruiser had caught up with me, having closed the distance from far horizon to ten feet from my fender like a cruise missile. It was obviously a good (or at least fast) rider.
By now the canyon had closed in on us and we were rocketing though some wonderfully complex terrain. Bikers call this “canyon carving”. Nearly alongside me, the mystery bike was roaring like a monster. I hazarded a glance and got a flash of the front of the engine. It was the same exact make and model as my bike. Interesting!
My bike is plain and outfitted only for reliability, ergonomics, and long hauls. It’s not hopped up for performance and it’s deliberately not flashy. This bike, mechanically the twin to mine, was modified with an entirely different eye.
It wasn’t flashy. It was lurid!