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A few years back I was hanging out at the local bike shop on a Saturday afternoon when a young man fresh out of dental college came in and paid cash for a used Katana 600 they had for sale.
After the paperwork was done he started asking questions like "Is there any way to get a trailer to get it home for me, I've never ridden before...". I was not busy that day so I asked him where he lived. About an hour away. I told him I would ride it home for him if he would bring me back to the shop, the deal was made.
Traffic was pretty heavy for the most part so we just trundled along at 65-70 MPH with the flow of traffic on the Interstate. About two miles from his exit there came a lull in the traffic with zero cars within a mile and a half of me and no cops in sight so I decided to show him a little of what his bike was capable of. He was in his SUV behind me.
I rolled on throttle in 6th gear and took it up to about 135 MPH, rolled off throttle and got off at the exit directly behind the car that just a bit ago had been a mile and a half ahead.
I pulled into the gas station around the corner from the ramp (600cc sport bikes pass just about everything on the road except a gas station - LOL). They buyer pulled up next to me and swiped his card in the pump and said that thing moves out pretty good, how fast did you get - about 90? His eyes got big as saucers when I told him 135.
I used the hour long ride back to the shop trying to convince him that living on a gravel road and with no previous cycle experience other than a little dirbiking in his youth that he should not attempt to ride the Katana at all until after he had completed a MSF BRC. He said he would do that and thanked me for the information.
It wasn't till I got back to the shop that I learned the shop had bought it in an insurance company auction, repaired the damages, and sold it. I also found out then that the previous owner was killed on that machine. I can see how it would be easy to get in over one's head on that bike without a lot of experience.
I liked the young man, a couple of months later made arrangements to meet him for breakfast about mid-way between us. He walked in the cafe and said sheepishly "I should have taken your advice, but I couldn't wait. I took it out on the gravel road and dumped it. I was not hurt but my pride and a lot of plastic sure were."
I've lost contact with him, have stopped by his house a few times but never caught him at home. I often wonder how his riding has evolved.
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