The picture, worth more than my words, is below. Picked her up on the other side of Ft. Knox at about Noon yesterday (Roger took me down) and rode back home the long and slow way. Kentucky back-roads, horses and fences and farms and then the lilting accents of the locals when I was forced to stop. She growls and purrs and throbs and moves at an easy three-quarter speed. Even when I let her stretch her long legs (which I did just to see how it felt) she seems easy and slinky in her movements. Even at speed she is relaxed and informal. Four hundred miles later, home at midnight, the sun was still shining. The perfect ride. The perfect bike.