I just went out and bought a new motorcycle, and I feel guilty. I had no business buying a new bike when I only make $8.50 an hour mowing grass, all day on a golf course. Just the fact that I’m 49 years old, college educated, and still mowing lawns for a living, is reason enough to feel guilty, but wait; there’s more. I actually dropped out of college to become…an actor. I almost had a career too, but it didn’t take. At least now I get to play golf for free.

So, I’m old (ish), broke, and functioning below my potential. This has been an on-going problem, for which the solution was obviously to go out and buy a shiny red ’06 SV650. It WAS, however, a demo, and $1200 cheaper than list, with 3500 miles on it, which ameliorates the conflict in my heart somewhat. I mean, how could I, in good conscience walk away from a deal like that? Oh yeah,….‘cause I’m broke?

Actually, I’ve owned five different motorcycles, and for a time thought that motorcycling was my life. I went down to Florida from New York to take a five month technician course, and then worked at both a Kawasaki and a BMW dealership. I did a lot of pre-delivery inspections, oil and tire changes, and rode every bike I worked on. I never really made it beyond the entry level stuff before I figured out that it’s loud and smelly in a garage, and that I didn’t really want to work on bikes – I wanted to RIDE them. So, I spent $9500 to confirm what I already knew; that I love to be in the great outdoors, riding motorcycles. I feel guilty over that one, too.

My wife and I ended up staying in Florida. We bought a house and opened up a bank account. Our motorcycling journey has taken us far, both literally and philosophically. The first bike we owned was a cruiser, and we loved it. Then I realized that sitting back, arms spread wide, embracing the world, and affecting an “I’ve achieved total peace of mind, now get out of my way” expression on my sun-kissed face was just too passive for me. I started leaning forward, and that’s kind of, well…un-cool…on a cruiser. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that Michael Parks in “Then Came Bronson” never did that.

You see, I wanted to influence, with adroitness, objects moving in space, and I felt I could do that better if I engaged the road in a stare-down. I wanted to be Valentino Rossi before I even knew who Valentino Rossi was. I went out and bought a 1981 CB750, a great old standard bike that puts the rider in a neutral to forward position. I still had the cruiser, but traded it in for a 1996 VFR. Now I had two machines with an “I mean business” attitude that allowed me to put more weight over the front end, establishing a greater partnership with the bike.

Unfortunately, I dissolved the partnership with the VFR, on my way home from work one day, with a song on my lips and my head up my…uh hem…in the clouds. The road curved around to the right – and I didn’t. The book I was reading, Sport Riding Techniques, by Nick Ienatsch, told me that all I had to do was put more weight on my inside peg, turn my head, lean harder into the turn and counter-steer. Guess maybe I should’ve waited ‘til I got off the bike before I started reading the book, huh? (Just a little two-wheel levity there).

In motorcycle parlance, I “wadded up” my beloved VFR. I locked the brakes, skidded into a curb, somersaulted over the bars taking out the wind screen with my ribs, landed on my back, jumped to my feet, and straight into denial; all in one death-defying acrobatic moment. After I’d lifted the bike – convinced I’d ride it home with the bars twisted, the forks bent backwards, the front wheel dimpled like a valentine, the sub-frame tweeked, and every piece of body work splintered – I sailed through the other four stages of grief, and called my wife.

I got lucky. The curb that I hit surrounded a road divider that was planted with grass, and it was a soft landing. I’m still trying to figure out how it happened and how I might have regained control. After ruminating on it for half a year, I realize the answer is that I shouldn’t have been out of control in the first place. My gray matter wasn’t on the same page as my throttle hand. I was riding my motorcycle as though it was a car, going too fast on auto pilot. Earlier that day, I’d been admiring the “Viffer” in the parking lot, thinking, “I can’t believe I own such a beautiful bike, I’m going to have this bike forever and pass it on to my grandkids.” The lesson here is “Don’t ever fall in love with a motorcycle, and you’ll never disappoint your grandkids.”

The truly amazing thing is that a couple of weeks later, my friend, Norman, – and I didn’t know just how good a friend he was until that moment – LENT me his Super Hawk so I could go do my first track day. My ribs were still aching when I arrived at Pocono Raceway and struggled into a rented leather track suit. I was in the novice class, and we started off cautiously, but as the day progressed we were given more rope, and were allowed to pass each other. In our last rotation of the day, I kept running up the back of a CBR900RR in the corners, but we’d get to the straight and he’d pull away. Finally, staying right on his tail in the last turn before the straight, I pinned the throttle right at the apex and the momentum carried me past him and beyond. Yeee Haaah! I was hooked. I wanted more, I NEEDED more, but my VFR was gone. What to do?

Enter, the SV650. Norman told me that the SV was a perfect bike for novice sport riders because it had usable power. He explained that only an infinitesimal fraction of the Earth’s population had the ability to make full use of a one liter, in-line four race bike. But to me, the SV650 didn’t look like it belonged on a race track. It looked like a friendly little motor bike for people almost as friendly as the people you meet on a Honda. Now remember, I was a professional motorcycle technician for, like a minute, and had the opportunity to ride a LOT of different bikes. The SV wasn’t one of them until the ‘06 Daytona Bike week, and that little friendly standard SV was the MOST fun I’d ever had on any motorcycle PERIOD. I never thought I’d like anything as much as my VFR, but I was wrong. In fact, it felt like the VFR, only more so. It was lightweight, agile, comfortable, and FAST. According to Motorcyclist magazine, the SV crosses the line only a half second behind the VFR in the quarter mile.

The bike is so fast in fact, that I have to disagree with the large group of motorcycle cognoscenti who call it a great beginner’s bike. The carbureted models may be different, but my fuel injected bike has a ton of torque on a hair trigger. It takes delicate throttle control to execute slow speed maneuvers without suddenly hanging off the bars like a rodeo clown. It may have a benign persona with that cheerfully round headlight, but it turns into a hairy beast after one little sip of octane – like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. This bike don’t truck with no greenhorns. Maybe it’s just that, as an experienced rider, I don’t want to carry the stigma of having bought a “beginner’s” bike, but I think a beginner would be better served on a bike with smoother power down low – a moderately displaced in-line four, or even a parallel twin. I think the SV650 is perfect for experienced street riders who want a great bike, or novice SPORT riders with at least five years of street riding experience under their belts, who are ready to try the track.

So, as a novice sport rider, I’m going to give myself a Christmas present of some leathers, some gloves, some boots, and a track day at Jennings. Maybe Santa and his little helpers will throw some of that stuff down my chimney. Actually, we have a mid-century modern ranch with a flat roof and no chimney. Let’s just say that with an abundance of that type of construction down here in the sub-tropics, and no snow, Christmas is sort of…vestigial. Still, I might also ask Santa for the lower handle bars offered by Suburban Machinery, and when I grow more proficient at using the usable power of the SV650, I’ll look into pipes and power commanders and suspension and brakes, and maybe a sticker that says – I’D RATHER SCRAPE A KNEE RIDING MY SUZUKI THAN HERNIATE A DISC PUSHING YOUR HARLEY.

Yes, I feel guilty, buying a new SV650 when my personal/financial situation doesn’t necessarily mandate such an action. However, I’m lucky that my wife is such a genius and an absolute gem. She gave me the green light by saying, “You only go around once, you might as well be happy.” She is so right. In a world in which happiness is ephemeral and hard to grasp, where’s the crime in having a fuel injected, V twin hot rod that produces such positive, palpable, JOY?!? I’m happy when I ride that bike. I’m happy at work when I know I’ll soon be riding that bike home. Where ever I happen to be, I’m happy knowing it’s sitting in my garage. I’m happy that my wife knows how important it is to be happy. I told her, “You have the wisdom of a Hindu Priestess.” She said, “If I was a Hindu Princess I would’ve advised you to buy an SV650 in your NEXT life – when you’re reincarnated as Bill Gates.” I told you – she’s smart. And did I mention that I’m happy?