You are acutely aware that the first lap is spent warming up the tyres, but you can barely resist the urge to start competing, and even at the end of the first lap, the rear tyre is skipping as you brake for the hairpin. After lap 1, the hunt is on ! You spy an R1, a GSX-R, an SPS ahead.... They *have* to be taken and killed. You start the pursuit, on the straight the clutch is not even considered, the gear change is a reflex between right wrist and left foot. The gap closes, the braking becomes later and later, now the prey is in site, you can smell the engine ahead, you feel the fear of the rider as they concentrate on the corner, you start to harass them. You hover as they enter corners, smile as they drift wide, and you learn their weak point, fully confident of your ability, then you decide, "this is the corner", they brake, they move in the saddle, on the limit of their ability, you burst into their world, 20 kph faster than them. You've set your line, it's faster and tighter than their's, you breeze through, and you can feel the despair in their brain as they listen to the boom of your exhaust when it drives home the humilation of being overtaken on the corner by a 916 Biposto.
That one was easy ! Time to search for some real targets. Aah ! There's a fast R1, it's going to take some work to catch him. But it's going to happen. Slowly but steadily, the pace picks up, the power goes on a little earlier, the braking is left a little later, the rear wheel skips a bit more as you enter the corner, the slides become predictable, the prey is in sight. Everything becomes instinct, there is no longer a sense of co-ordination between hands and feet, there is only instinct. The prey is slowing, the kill is approaching, the adrenaline rises, the slipstreaming starts, we wait and observe the weak points of the prey, again it has no confidence on corners, it scrubs off too much speed, and then relies on power to drive out of the corner. We learn how to subdue this prey, we select the best corner, than as the prey drops speed, we blast through again, using shock as a weapon (just like bow hunting (though I abhore *that* "sport"), the R1 rider was not expecting to be taken so confidently, and certainly not by a 'bip rider. "Yeesssss" we croon to ourselves, as we start searching for the next target. We espy some more prey in the distance, but before the pursuit can reach full bore, the session is over. Time to refuel with water and adrenaline, before the next bout commences.
In the paddock, nods of acknowledgement are exchanged between vanquisher and vanquished, the closest parallel that modern man can achieve to jousting. Each man rides his own motorised destrier, though no lances are used. The consequenses are the same, death is but a few seconds away, the line between successs and failure, so fine, but only stepping on this line can alert a man to the beauty of being alive. Only by risking all that you have, can you begin to appreciate all that you have. It may be as simple as "good health", or it could be as highly developed as "friends and family", but if you never measure the value of it, how much is it worth ????
Enough adrenaline. The object of my passion ..
The prey has been selected..
The hunt is on..
It will *not* escape..
Instinct has taken over, the knee puck is simply a depth guage now..
