Greetings and thank you for the welcome. So first let me explain, and then I want your advice. The login name I use was my grandmother’s nickname for me. For anyone who remembers Shari Lewis. I look nothing like that damned sheep. Anyways.. I’m male, fifty…burble… years old and six foot tall and a few too many pounds overweight - and I’ve had an itch to get back on a motor-sickle for over five years now. So much so, that despite not having sat on anything more powerful that my old Yamaha XS250 twin back on my early 20’s in the UK (aaaah… those were the days – cold, wet, drizzly, high hedges, country lanes, slippery gravel roads…) gzhrrrizhip…. Ahem …back to reality. Being a good new Australian, like all Pom’s trying to fit in, I took the full Australian motorcycle test in Victoria. It was like getting back on a horse again, just slipped right onto that saddle, flicked the key, and grabbed the clutch, pushed the start button, snicked the left foot down, twist the wrist and …away. Easy. Like I’d never been away. The burble of the 250 twin at the test centre was my friend. …I passed. Over a year ago. So what’s the rub here, you ask..? Well….. And this is embarrassing. (...pauses to clear throat and bows head in shame) I’ve not got a motorbike. Not bought one. Not for want of looking and thinking and idle dreaming, but not bought ….yet. I’ve lurked here and read avariciously of tales of new rider trepidations, and of cagers and their dangerous exploits. Of the successes and frights, and of the camaraderie that exists amongst everyone here. It’s both terrifying and heartwarming at the same time. I’m naturally a cautious type, noted by the old Yamaha twin – it chugged up and down the country, thousands of miles and got me where I needed to go, albeit rather slowly sometimes. I longed for more power back then, to fight the wind and the car’s acceleration and a hopeful ability to get out of near scrapes more easily. The upgrade never happened. I got a Ford cage …. and foolishly never looked back. Which brings me to today. I gave googly eyes at a pre-loved CB400 and she smiled back, but I couldn’t afford her champagne startup lifestyle. I winked at a CB500F, but the slick lines and well-fitting cat suit breathed race demons at me and I slunk away. I sidled up to a CBR1000 with all the touring trimmings and she burbled lovely words to me, but we were not to be friends. One idle weekend recently, whilst working away in Sydney I trotted round to the Motorcycle show at the Olympic Stadium and sat on a few of the shiny chrome monstrosities and some slightly more sensible Japanese offerings. Nothing made me stare or wink..or drool. Somewhat dejected and on the way out from the exhibition and walking across the bike-park as the many thousands of bikes started up and cruised to leave, I saw common sense. I didn’t know what it was, apart from the Honda sticker from afar. Candy Apple Red colour as I recall. It had high up exhausts tight into the seat tail, obviously a 4 cylinder and water cooled too. It looked a touch boring, but it had its pedigree act together. I stopped to look it over. I saw a few of the same nearby too. It said Hornet. As I looked at this bike the owner strolled up in full leathers and we shared a few positive words. “If you like the look mate, get one, it’s rock solid.” He nodded as he hit the start button and this machine sang to me. It flicked into gear and hardly dropped a semitone as it moved off and cruised slowwwly graciously across the car park. I think I’ve found my mate. Nooo, not the rider, the bike. So here’s my question - now you know a little about me. Is this going to be a sensible marriage, or will it be war in the countryside and hell on the streets together? I counting on you, because this could be a new heaven for me, or a ride into hell.