The Harlot's Prerogative

"Power without responsibility - the prerogative of the harlot through the ages." 
-Rudyard Kipling


The first race of the day is D-Superbike, and I find myself in something of a quandary.  The FZR is eligible, it is faster than the EX, but I have almost zero experience on it.  Part of me wants to race it, part of me knows I should park it.  That's the problem with a Succubus, once you get a taste, you are hooked, your soul forever tainted.  The forgiving and reliable nature of the EX is soon forgotten after sampling the demonspeed FZR.  I feel like a married mid-life crisis having an affair with a well-worn twenty-something stripper called Sierra.  And given the chance to escape suburban cul-de-sac hell for pasties and a g-string...well you can see where this is going.

My silver EX is suspiciously absent from the DSB grid, in its place the green she-beast.  What the hell, let's race!  The bike launches reasonably well and I find myself somewhere in the top 5 in turn one.  I am able to outpower many of the other bikes, which helps to make up for me being slow in the corners.  The knowledge that I would probably be turning better lap times on the EX is incentive to ride this better.  How embarrassing it would be to find I was slower on a faster bike!  I struggle around the track for about five laps, over-revving here, under-revving there and generally making a really bad show of it.  My brain is so wired for the twin-cylinder EX, it struggles with the seemingly exotic 4 cylinder FZR.   I know I am slow,  I know it is my fault and I am at a loss to come up with a plan halfway through the race to improve.

On the fifth lap things go tits up as I enter the downhill right/left/right set of turns they call the "Mini-Corkscrew", (after the turn at Laguna Seca Raceway).  Following my normal downshifts the motor abruptly shuts off.  I whip the clutch in assuming the motor is blown, but let it back out once to see if it will re-fire.  The motor spins but does not light.  I coast down the hill and off the track, my race done.  Son of a bitch.

Forgiving and reliable may be a bit hum-drum, but at least it finishes races.