|How could anyone look into those eyes and not be seduced?|
That's my problem - the bike was a Jekyll and Hyde character - simply superb on the open road at higher speeds, roaring through corners, trying to eradicate my chicken strips. But then came more regular riding. Some stop start, some roadworks, some heavily policed low speed limits - all the stuff you have to ride to get to the open roads. While the bike coped admirably, I couldn't - to me, the bike became Mr Hyde, snarling and spitting, making my life miserable (poetic licence you understand, I never wanted to not be on the bike, but oh lordy I longed for the open road).
I'm sad because the 848 is the bike I always wanted, and I feel like I've been robbed of being able to enjoy it for as long as I'd expected. Such a combination of looks, performance and affordability probably won't pass my way again. That's not to say I won't have some good bikes in the future, but nakeds just aren't works of art like the 848.
But it's not my problem anymore. The new owner's a bit younger than me, and hasn't got arthritis, so it should all be good for him.
But it was also a happy day. I'm glad the new owner talked me into meeting him at Appin. I took a fine selection of empty back roads to get there. Despite being sad I no longer owned the 848, that last ride was a fine way to remember just how much pleasure it could give. Great weather, fun roads, and even my wrists didn't give me too much grief. Beautiful.