I saw the Dragon today. I was at the Yamaha dealership getting the Fazer’s first service. There was no missing her – there she was, striking a pose in the middle of the showroom floor. A real looker, that bike. I walked past her a number of times as I waited. Each time there was some other emotion there, creeping up around my edges like some new but familiar smell. I knew this bike, knew it well, done some good things with it. I looked for envy, I watched for lust, but I didn’t find it. Of this I was glad. I still admire the GTR14, still think it beautiful, and I was happy to see her. But I surprised myself – I didn’t so much as touch her, let alone trail my fingers in a lingering, wistful stroke.
She was sporting an expensive-looking new front tire. I knew that if I drove her now that some of the handling issues would be solved, that she’d turn so much easier, might even have some of that throwability I so cherish. But I had no doubts.
I could feel myself there. It was strange. Not so long ago that bike was me. It was like seeing an old photograph of myself in some long-ago setting. A feeling of recognition, even warmth. It was a life solidified on the showroom floor. Seeing her there was seeing a reflection of myself in a way that no mirror could ever do.
Only 5,000 miles on this beauty, but now she seemed very much used, a bit scuffed up and not worth a second thought. I saw flashes of speed, of competent carving, of heart-racing mistakes. I saw too the downside, the parts that came before, the emotional conflict.
The experience of seeing her there, down off her pedestal, was fascinating. It was my own story sitting there in that room. The wee scuff marks on the seat, on the tank, on the rear tire – they were all still there. That bike was no longer a machine of its own. For whoever rides her next I’ll be there too.
The strangest feeling was the sense of maleness she now seemed to broadcast. She was always a female to me, but now, it was more like seeing me than seeing an ex-bike. I felt my wife there too, in the background, looking at me in that way she does, even missing me in a way, but I wasn’t even gone.
The Dragon was obviously an important event to my motorcycling self. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything quite like this. Usually, when it’s time to sell the stuff that has touched me in some way, the buyer takes it and is gone. This is different, being able to see her anytime I want. I’m almost feeling lonely just thinking about her in there. I’m here, she’s there, but we used to be the same.
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