Maybe it's the same for everybody, I don't know, but no matter how cool, how sweet, how fucking brilliant a bike or car might appear to the eye, it doesn't really mean anything until the belly of the beast is growling like the Devil himself with chronic gastric reflux and a vile case of the cyclonic sphincter . . . . I'm not even talking about running it with the butterflies wide open like footage of Debbie in post doing Dallas state, nor under full load waiting to launch off the pad, not screaming it's tits off in tyre shredding burnout mode, just up and chugging at idle or shifting on down the highway sitting on the speed limit . . . . it's the sound, the sensation of those shock waves as each sparking combustion chamber ignites the charge sending the spent vapours tearing past the exhaust valve, down the pipe and finally breaking the sound barrier as it exits into the world at large filling your ears with the sweetest sound known to man . . . . happiness is a free breathing donk doin its thing !!!
So . . . . where was I . . . . yeah, noise, the aural sex that only a motor is capable of engaging in, not the cacophonous sound of a great band or the soothing tones of Miles Davis, not the crack and bang of guns, nor the singing of cute little birds, not the silence of waking up in the country miles from civilisation, not the sweet nothings whispered in your ear by the girl you love, nah, none of it, not one single other noise making thing compares to the sound that a well sorted motor is capable of doing for me . . . . with that in mind, have a look and, more importantly, a listen to this cracker video from Mr Grant Peterson, yes, 'that' Grant Petersen, as he and his buddy, whom I'm sure many will also be familiar with, as they move it on out down the freeway, this says it all, if you're not feeling it or not getting it, you probably never will . . . . adios.