|
Re: Motorcycle power question?
if you have been riding for 9 years, I will presume you are over 26, if not pretty damn close. So insurance prices will more then likely be low for you, in comparison to me atleast. If you like in a metro area make sure you get comprehensive.
Anyway if you have been riding the bandit 1200 I wouldn't really worry about not being able to handle the power of the R1, because in all honesty they are pretty damn close untill the end of first gear. The thing you need to really ask yourself is the purpose of the motorcycle, If you want to be comfortable for long rides it won't happen on the R1. Also sine you have been riding the bandit 1200, a rather large bike, I will also presume that you are probably 5'10" or taller, which will make the R6 cramped, and give your legs problems for awhile.
Anyway you can pick up used R1s in good shape now for 6K, so the price isn't unmanageable either. You also seem pretty confident that you want a R1, which is an incredible bike, if you have the restraint not to kill yourself on it.
Btw, what year was your Magna, the newer Magna is pretty damn quick for a cruiser.
__________________
......or if your a loser who drives a Civic with a type R sticker, racing stripes, blasting really bad rap music through your suburban area with your pretentious "I’m 21 but I’m still in high school girlfriend" while driving with your hand up on the top of the steering wheel exposing your underdeveloped pasty white vitamin deficient arm and wearing your backwards BS upside down visor hat while feeling the tacky as a "Florida vacation" single diamond earring in your ear, If you are this person...with any luck the sun in its precise celestial positioning as you putter on by...will reflect its scorching rays into your earring, bouncing intensely in your rearview, and finally making contact with your eyes through the thin cheap lense of $5 gas station Oakley rip off glasses.. then burning your retnal cones into smoldering melting gobs of ocular material as you are blinded by the purest form of energy in our known universe, and as you scream no one can help or hear you because they don’t know what’s going on since the weed whacker sound of your shitty tiny little muffler which makes the Civic sound like a 747 rages on underneath making everyone turn at disgust and comment to thier husbands or wives how much of a dickweed you are by attaching that automotive abnormality to your stock economical daily driver engineered by Japanese Automotive specialists to fit the needs for entry level business workers in their early 30's, however your pathetic looking $11,000 car which you want to look like a friggin spaceship with redundant ground effects is now out of control since you are blinded, and as your car plunges off the side of a cliff while you scream in the purest form of terror while knowing you have lived a horrid excuse for a life, by doing the bare minimum in every facet of existence, while getting fired from one pathetic job to another, the majority of your time spent slacking smoking dope, getting kicked out of school, polishing your "game" on sweet innocent underage girls you eventually 'de flower' through exhaustive yet succesful attempts to get the date rapist drugs you have stashed in the glove compartment, into your poor victims drinks while offering them to take the "Pepsi Challenge" while making your mother hate you, and your poor father who wishes he had a daughter instead of your pathetic ass, since a girl would be more of a man than you ever were, like the occasion when you were hit in the arm by a wild pitch in little league, then you cried like a fat kid who dropped his ice cream cone, I'm already envisioning you impacting the rocks below, in a spectacular fireball ignited from the residue hairspray from your girlfriend plastered in the fabric passenger seat, blinded by your earring, deafened by the loud "Bling Blingin", and I will smile and roll around on the ground in orgasmic delight while you are consumed by flames whose intense heat and fury will liquefy your bone marrow that I will use to make jelly beans out of and eat them happily at your funeral as midgets dressed like Alex 6005321 from "A Clockwork Orange" dance around your coffin to loud industrial style techno music and strobe lights, and I will sleep soundly at night knowing another successful conquest of Darwinism has been attained.
|