Dear God it’s pleasant outside. A little swampy, sure, but an early summer day one week before Halloween shan’t be grumbled about. Restaurants are likely opening patios (Small Bar Logan Square just announced via Facebook they would be) and runners are trolling the sidewalks in droves—who knows, some geniuses may even be lounging and digging their bare feet into the beach right now. And I guarantee garage doors are being creaked open and raised, and motorcycles uncovered and rolled out. Riders will always take advantage of one more temperate, sunny day attached to the end of a dwindling motorcycle season. I know I will.
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Gazing upon the machine produces a visual euphoria not often felt beyond an alpine summit or the world’s greatest art museums. But how is it to ride? In a word, great. The engine revs high and loud, the motorcycle equivalent of the roadster. If tuned right, the engine beats with a sound akin to a helicopter’s rotors—thuck, thuck, thuck, thuck.
Nearly six months out of the year my Honda is either cooped up in a stark, chilly garage space or hanging out at Ace Motorcycle and Scooters getting a good once over. But it’s a small price to pay (along with Chicago insurance rates, city tags, and parking permits) to gently crack the throttle on a day like today and feel the wind flow through your helmet (or hair depending on
