Let's face it, draging the idiot fully sick VH commodore (Or equivalent) off the lights is great fun. So imagine my excitment when I was put on the otherside of the viewing glass!!! No matter how many times you flog Mr. Half-a-Dollar off the lights and embarrass him in front of his friends, he comes back for more, why??? Recently, my bike's front brakes decided stopping wasnt on the agenda and sprayed the nearby truck's side's with yellow brake fluid. Nice. After surviving the heart attack inducing experiance of riding in peak hour without the ability to stop quickly, or even slowly really, I crawled into my local mechanic and quickly made arrangments to have the problem fixed. Good stuff. Getting back later to more work and phoning a few friends and making many false promises, somebody came through offering a lift with his girlfriends older brother. Sweet. Until I met him. Nice enough bloke. Except for the slighty off tilt cap, skate shoes, jumper with furries (In summer) and shorts somewhere around the ankles. His fooli sik ride was a VY Commodore that had being repainted in a ridiculous pearl purple colour. His Rims where big and shiny, and his rear windscreen was little more than a billboard for popular brands. Minus the rent. He had racing bucket seats, and turbo dials out the wazoo. Curiously, no turbo though("Just waiting for it to come in"). We said our G'days, I thanked him. He asked where I needed to go and all seemed cool. It didnt stay this way for long though and he promptly dispatched an elderly couple from one set of lights to another, demonstrating the power of a real man. He-man he was, needing merely one arm to wrestle this beast of a vehicle! Soon enough the inevitable happened! The on ramp to the Hume Highway found us alongside a simply beautiful Ducati 996. Either the rider washed an' polished after every ride. Or it has crept out of storage for summer. He-man decided, despite my suggestions, his Ferradore could easily defeat this slightly larger than averge scooter! Revs, failed to attract the attention of the rider, and winding down the windows and jeers directed at him earnt He-man mere glances. He-man had this scooter licked! Wrong. With a harrowing growl from the direction of the Ducati, an awe inspiring roar was let loose, and the already deafening boom from the large Termignoni's transformed into a noise which can only be described as a Bear and a Lion having a pissing contest. The car indeed launched forward with surprising ferocity. Unfortunately, the noise was somewhat of a farting drone. At first the car and bike were neck and neck. Then the lights turned green. By the time the car reached half of the distance of the on ramp, the Ducati had excited the ramp and was out of site around a bend! The car speedo was at this time reading a somewhat respectable 130, a feat which even my ZX2R could achieve! Now for the kicker! The next words to be uttered in the car where "Towards the end I was pulling on him" followed by "If the road was longer I would have had him" He-man failed to realise that even if he hd been "pulling" on the Ducati (He wasn't), he had to also make up around 20 car lengths (He didn't) These rambling excuses went on until we screamed past the Ducati around 5 minutes later at around 160. Loser-flybys are the best why to prove how gigantic your penis is. No matter how much you destroy the next car by at the lights, they will always have an excuse to come back for a harder whipping. Thats one of two truths. The second one is far sadder. The second one is my best friend died 3 days ago on his bike, dragging a P-Plater off from the lights. The onramp (same one) was meeting the highway, however, a Semi was on that same highway. The car driver, seeing no choice, moved into the emergeancy lane, which is where my friend was. He washed off enough speed to get to around 60 and hit the barrier. For what ever reason fate decided that 60, an entirely reasonable number to crash at, was too much today. So he died. Just something for everyone to think about. Cheers for reading.