THE REPLACEMENT KILLER

So here I am. Bikeless. Sans motorcycle. Without wheels.
That's not good.
It's funny how the bike could sit in the carport for a week without me needing to get out on it.
Now that there isn't one there, I crave a ride every day.


ad·dic·tion
Pronunciation: \ə-ˈdik-shən, a-\
Function: noun

1: the quality or state of being addicted.

2: compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance (as heroin, nicotine, or alcohol) characterised by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal.


Bikepoint, Bikesales, eBay and Trading Post have all taken large chunks of my bandwidth over the last week in the name of feeding the habit.

This search, or quest if you will, has proven a couple of points;
1. There nothing in this world that isn't for sale at any given time.
2. People leave their rose coloured glasses on whilst estimating the worth of their bike.
3. Morons are everywhere.

There is no shortage of machines for sale out there, from the latest slingshots with a few hundred k's on them to ancient units that have wound the clock over several times.


I managed to whittle the Want List down to what I thought was a reasonable 300 odd bikes.
That's hard work, you know?
But in practical terms the list was, obviously, much shorter.

The payout from QBE was not going to let me waltz in to a dealer and point happily at anything with a "New For '09" tag on it.
So other avenues were explored, well, more like dingy alleyways than avenues.

I mentioned my dilemma to Bruce, a long time mate, and he casually mentioned that he was selling the ZX9.
"Really?", said I, "How much?"
A special mates rates price was thrown up and I blurted my agreement like the seasoned negotiator that I am.
"You should probably take it for a run first" Bruce suggested.

Saturday morning came around and Sandy & I rode into Bruce's place to find 3 blokes in riding gear looking at the bike. No other bikes though, just a small car. Odd.

My heart sank a little at first. But the bloke looking at the bike wasn't making the right signs or sounds. I leant over to Sandy and told her he wouldn't buy it, it's not his thing, he's after an R1.

Sure enough, he backed away saying it wasn't what he was looking for.
"No go?", I asked of Bruce
"Nah, he's off to Seaford to look at an R1"
I can pick 'em.

After a quick rundown on any quirks the bike might have we set off for the Mornington Peninsula.

I was sold within the first five minutes onboard.
The ergonomics are good, no weight on the wrists, the pegs are low enough to avoid the racerboy crouch and my legs tucked into the cutouts on the tank perfectly.

50 odd more ponies and 60 less kilos than the GSXF was instantly apparent. I mean instantly.

We spent the afternoon chasing each other through Main Ridge, Flinders, Rosebud, Dromana and along the coast before taking the bike back.

The deal was done. Bruce will hold the bike until QBE cough up.

This is only making the withdrawals worse. Having a bike but not being able to get to it is worse than no bike at all.