Sunday night was a blissful one. I had been looking forward to going to Lost Dutchman State Park to watch a night time movie showing of Raising Arizona. Hollywood called and we decided to roll out on the bikes together. Wise in his infinite wisdom, because we sat on the bikes rather than the ground. He forgot his wallet and was out of fuel so he offered to let me drive his '06 GSX-R 750 (Suzuki) if I put gas in it. I filled both bikes for under $10 bucks. I once heard an aggresive salesman refer to the sound of a $220,00 Ferrari F550 maranello as "pure sex", it should be noted here that vehicles speed is 180 mph. If there is a $12,000 derivetive of the F550 it would be the stock lowmount exhuast new for the '06 model GSX-R, reminesent of Moto GP bikes and a throw back to Eric Buell, who has been doing it on his bikes since the early '90s. I have never imagined a machine could sound so beautiful at full song. A true instrument in every fashion, I carved up the backroads past sunset faster than ever on an inspiring mount with an engineered suspension. Parking the bikes seemed like some self imposed timeout for the road antics just commited, but the show was nice. The superstition mountains in the moonlight while every star in the sky was twinkling down through a few whispy clouds, like sugar tossed on a black canvas with the last strands of cotton candy as an after thought was a wasted romantic moment to the two dudes on their cruisers and inspired forms of debauchery for another night. On the way home hollywood concluded my assumptions, he would meet me back at the house, so I could put some air in the animal I was riding. He was riding the more sedate '06 Kawasaki 650r with it's tractor like exhaust note. I pulled the front wheel up at the on ramp of Idaho road and it touched down in second gear as the speedo clicked past sixty, short shifting for traffic. I steered to clean air with no cars on a nearly abandoned stretch of US 60 I twisted the grip in sixth and the digital speedo counted out ONE-EIGHT-THREE...it felt like 140 to me. The stupid stick struck again under the 101 loop where two DPS cars sat door to door as I rolled past a exactly 170. I thought at these speeds I would have tunnel vision and the earth would seprate, but I could see both very clearly. I sayed on the gas and prayed for an exit. Hollywood said they didn't even turn on the lights as he went by at 130, also seeking a quick exit. If a bullet were to land right next to your head and you could feel the splintered wood and percussion of the small explosion, the heat and deafning roar of the weapon you might know how I felt for the next thirty minutes. School is no cure for stupidity and wisdom comes from more than years, but I'm glad to have experianced this and encourage no one to follow me, including myself.(repetition is the definition of stupidity all else is a lesson)-Evan