Darwin was right. Evolution, natural selection, survival of the fittest, adapting to new environments; the proof is on its sidestand in my garage. In 1989, the ZX10 was the top of the pile. A development of the GPz 900, it was 25% more powerful, lighter and had better wheels, brakes and suspension. It put right all the faults of the GPZ1000RX and was the fastest thing on two wheels. A year later, Kawasaki launched the ZZR1100. Sleeker, more powerful, and slightly faster. Which is how I happened to find a low mileage mint condition ZX10 in a Clapham bike showroom for a surprisingly low price. A deal was done, a loan arranged (hi-ho silver), a bank account emptied and a U-Lock thrown in. First Impressions? Compared to the rattly old BMW and even rattlier, even older Guzzi I’d been riding round on it was certainly different. It didn’t rattle, for one thing. Big, smooth, comfortable and fast. F A S T. Ninety miles an hour without realising it fast. Every ride was a delight; friends got fed up with me showing them how the bungy hooks folded out, or how the red line lit up red when the lights were on. For the next couple of years, the Ten was my pride and joy. It was also an endless source of late night stories; glancing down at the speedo on the Snake Pass while braking and seeing the needle sweeping down through 140, involuntary wheelspin away from the lights, motorway journeys dispensed with in impossibly short times, hundred and fifty mph traffic dices on the way to the Bol D’Or - big numbers, but effortless on the ZX. Everyone asked how fast it was, and I never knew. I never the reached the point where the acceleration was tailing off without closing in on something big and heavy at very high speed. More... |
© 1998 Martin Gelder