Riding a bike is fun. No one quite explained this when they talked bikes to me or, more likely, I didn't listen. It is wonderful. You lean into the corners and, with the roar of wind in your ears, you pull back the throttle and accelerate with a kick that knocks you back in the saddle.
Riding a bike in the rain at night sucks. You can't see, the bike is slippery and everyone in a car seems to think you are a pinball and their vehicle is the self elected bonus flipper.
But the one thing I can't make my mind up about is the leathers. I picked mine up last week. There is something weirdly pornographic about dressing completely in leather. Boots, gloves, jacket and jeans; I smell like a pile of dead cows - not that I find dead cows particularly pornographic. It is the ritual before the ride. Something more than just safety gear.
It feels wonderful to wear. It looks great. But something about it just weirds me out. I feel like I should be asking someone to spank me... and afterwards that I should thank them. Odd. But when you look this cool, go with it....
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