One of those rare perfect days in San Francisco. All sun, no fog. Cool light ocean breezes and warm sun, what would pass for a perfect 75 F spring day elsewhere, where, in June, it’s been cookin’.
I pull up between the cars at a stoplight on Geary Blvd., a broad, median-divided street, 3 lanes on each side, where all the lights, as far as you can see, turn green at the same time. So it makes sense to pick up the speed to make as many as you can during each cycle. Within reason, of course: there ARE pedestrians and left turns and buses, but, today, traffic is light.
Just before the light turns, another biker pulls up between the other cars, to my right. We nod, as bikers do, especially on nice days. The light turns green and I gun it to get out in front of the sleepy cars. I can tell my quickness off the line surprises Biker B on his red, hot-looking, crouched-over sport bike and he loses no time catching up with my blistering 30 mph pace.
At the next red light: I smile and we repeat. Only this time, he knows the game. I can hear him clunk into first gear and, as the cross-street signal turns amber, rev his engine through his sweet-sounding after-market pipes. The Empulse? It don’t say nuthin’. I back up to take the slack out, shift into Sport mode, and get ready, looking at that signal light like it’s the Holy Grail. I'm going for broke this time!
There. Green. I’m gone. I actually make it a half block, 50 mph, power-shifting at 6K RPM to 2nd gear, when he comes roaring past.
We repeat two more times before we get to the more congested area at Franklin St. Each time I gain the better part of a block before his horsepower can catch up to my torque.
I grin and say, “That was fun! How many cc’s you got?”
He replies, “1000 and I just had her rebuilt. How many do you have?”
“None. All electric.” The light turns and I peel off onto Franklin St., leaving him to enjoy the day and, just possibly, ponder a bit upon what the heck just happened.
