My bike. MY bike. A bike that from this moment, shall be called 'mine'. I have a bike. An awesome bike. Not a death scooter, no longer do I need to ride the yellow scooter of 'soon to be passed away'. No, for now I can ride my Honda Phantom. Hondas little answer to the Harley. It's an easy rider, it's easy, and it's mine.
Sure, I've had to learn how to ride a manual, but hey, this will just save me hundreds of pounds when I get back home and go for my license.
Never in a million years would I be able to ride a bike like this back home. Not only would the insurance cripple me, but not having a bike license would be a bit of a stumbling block too. But here. . . they don't care. Do you have a driving license, excellent, move on.
My bike even has panniers! I was worried that losing the basket from the scooter might make the big bike a bit inconvenient, but noooooo. Panniers cool, basket not.
My bike rocks. No fuel gauge, but it rocks none the less.