Two days to go until I pick up my Z900RS and I'm having to distract myself.
My wife is heroically patient with me but I can tell that she really doesn't want to hear any more about it. I've tried reading, both trashy Sci-Fi novels and deep philosophy (David Hume, what a delightfully turgid read); I've done jobs around the house; I've even gone to the extreme of going to work every day and filing my reports on time.
This is my 11th bike (not consecutively) but never have I been so worked up. When I first saw it in it's classic paint job I went just a bit wobbly. The test ride, which I extended to the limit of politeness, confirmed my worst fears. The Tiger Sport had to go. This is a bike that is fun to ride, turns beautifully, doesn't batter your head in the turbulence, has loads of go when you want it and looks so good I'm going to get a sofa and a beer fridge in the garage just so I can sit and look at her.
And I can't find a negative review either.
It would be nice to have a selection of retro luggage to fit, or a chrome front fender but I'm sure I can find something online.
41 hours and counting . . . . I wonder if the grass can survive another cut . . .