"Brembo" is my current favourite word.
Hammering. Giving it the berries. Going like a dog shot up the arse. You know, you don't have to break the speed limit to be riding 'fast'. At 100km/h, when you're in the twisties, loping through corners posted 50 & 60 on the big G is exhilarating. Rock-steady, on-rails handling. Impeccable if somewhat slow steering. Confidence inspiring is what comes to mind. Not truly fast by any stretch, but loads of fun.
There I am, on my favourite bit of road, bits scraping, fourth gear, tacho somewhere north of 5000, lost in the sheer delight of riding the GRiSO, when something triggers my road awareness. Roadworks? 60km/h roadworks limit?
Shit! There on the apex of the rapidly approaching corner. Freshly laid tar covered with a healthy layer of loose stones, completely covering the lane. I grab a massive handful of front brake, squeezing the absolute fuck out of the lever. From 100 to 30 in the blink of an eye. Tap the rear brake to stand up the big G, and ever so carefully flip her over to skirt the tar patch.
Brembo, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways!
1. Thou dost not lock-up
2. Thou wash thine speed off rapdily. Yay & verrily.
3. Thou aboundith with feel. Forsooth.
The bastards had patched almost every corner, on my side of the road, pretty much all the way down the mountain. Pretty much buggered my fun.
So there I am, zipping as best I can, as fast as possible (probably faster than I should), skirting the patches, when there's this patch across both lanes! Feck! No way to skirt it, can't brake on it (or unpleasantness would ensue). Grab as much brake as I dare, then release. It's a big patch, maybe 20 metres long. There's lots of loose gravel.
Shimmy. Sphincter puckers. More shimmy. Even more shimmy. It felt like it went on for ages. Visions of scratching my brand new valve covers....
As I clear the patch, I thank the motorcycling gods for blessing the GRiSO with good handling and Brembo's.