This is the world's fastest stock production bike in 1976. the H2 Kawasaki triple. Crazy fast, almost uncontrollable, only could do a screaming straight line... hard to lean into curves. One time, in Tennesse, I race my friend on his Z1. He always grabbed me in the turns... but I'd climb back alongside him everytime in the straightaways, then get challenged to shift down, and tromp the brakes hard, or go off the side or over the handle bars. I was a fool, you'd better believe it.. a fool for sure. Up on Skyline , i always stop at the new graves of the old guys who climb onto too mcu horsepower, and think their yuppie lifestyle will save them. Just another cross alar on the side of the road... just another smiling face of a dad who's family can' tunderstand his need for speed. Half of them ride bikes far faster than this one, but either way, the death is the same. When I stop to pray for the new dead guy, in a sense, I am thanking God for saving me from my own stupidity over the 15 years when I rode. Yeah, I know about going over the bars, lsing the bike from under me on a turn, hitting shoulder first into a curb in front of me, going up and over backwards bike switching places with me, yet landing in the clear. What a fool I was way back when. that time we went head to head with the guy in the Newport... and I thought "I wonder when that guy will let up, andlet us roll by?... Yet he kept pace with us... and then I turned my head and saw that there was a foot high chunk of rock right in the path of my tire. At th espeed I was rolling, it was too late, I'd either go down by sliding around it, or I'd have to hit it head on... the guy in the car was right next to me. He went white as a sheet, as he saw me lift up off my seat , and hit that rock. Ka CHUNKA! and the whole bike danced wild under me. You do not want to know how fast I was going... But the speed was all that saved me. Momentume, force, mass, collision... and a huge dent in my front wheel.. .yet the tire held. and the dance settled out after about a quarter mile... I rolled off to the side... and Aaron, rolled to a stop next to me... nothing to say, except this, I was somehow protected from my own stupidity. So... any of you riders out there, and me too, if I get that used bike I am dreaming about, listen up! You'll live longer if you test your limits in a little safer way than this... yeah. You hundred mile club up on the mountain, please remember your family wants to see you come back home... and remember that Jimmy DEAN was a safe, safe driver, but he still couldn't stop when that guy pulled out and turned around a hundred yards ahead.. .......................this photo was taken on the ride back from the Super Bike races in Daytona Beach Florida. this place was Georgia. We'd camped on the side of the road. Guntis on his Norton commando, Aaron on his Z1, and me on this H2. I didn't even know what spring break was, back then... but I wass damn glad to let that girl in the bikini climb on behind me, press her lusciousness up against me and go for a ride on the beach with me... I told her, "tell your mom and dad, we're safe" and we were... I sure hope whe had a good time the rest of the week... what I wouldn't give to meet up with her again, knwoing I am no longer shy about the beauty of women!...yeah. but still... I can't see how any of those modern kids can be having much fun doing the same old equations over and over.. they oughta try what we did... buy a motorcycle, find a few friends who will protect your flank, and draft/ride the ass of a semi at 110 mph through tennesse at 2am making time on the big highway to a place where superbikes roar at 220mph on a closed track... something about it all just boggles the mind... far better than the same old unprotected sex while drunk! listen to me braggin... ouch... I should be ashamed of myself... please don't do that!