The Dance Commander

1990 GSXR750

The year was 1990 – I had just turned sixteen and was filled with the rebellious dreams that spring time in southeastern Michigan often conjure. Dreams of riding a motorcycle in the crisp March air. Throngs of chick would trip over themselves to get with the ‘cool’ guy. Smoking cigarettes in the Pioneer parking lot perched against my plastic steed. The right bike could do all this for me. It would be glorious. And there, parked in the Nicholson’s showroom sat the enabler of these dreams. A pristine 1990 SuzukiĀ® GSXR750, in all her Hypersport beauty. Sex executed in plastic and aluminum. Her multi-tone blue and white paint as clean and purposeful as a razor. I would have sold my soul for that bike. But alas is was not to be.

Twenty years have passed since that day – Navy, college, career, marriage, and kids flow beneath the bridge of my life – but I still remember that feeling of mechanical lust. That bike was freedom, the physical summary of my youth. That bike was my rite of passage. It has been a long time since I’ve been back to Ann Arbor. Time has flipped things – bikes have gotten lighter, I’ve gotten heavier. That bike was once my singular desire, now she is a mildly noteworthy addition to my bike Harem. But every time I look at that Hypersport, now parked in the lobby of Icon’s design office, it takes me back to a different time. That’s what Icon is to me, that initial passion for motorcycles, and the constant chase to recapture that feeling.

WATCH HER DANCE

The Dance Commander

1990 GSXR750

The year was 1990 – I had just turned sixteen and was filled with the rebellious dreams that spring time in southeastern Michigan often conjure. Dreams of riding a motorcycle in the crisp March air. Throngs of chick would trip over themselves to get with the ‘cool’ guy. Smoking cigarettes in the Pioneer parking lot perched against my plastic steed. The right bike could do all this for me. It would be glorious. And there, parked in the Nicholson’s showroom sat the enabler of these dreams. A pristine 1990 SuzukiĀ® GSXR750, in all her Hypersport beauty. Sex executed in plastic and aluminum. Her multi-tone blue and white paint as clean and purposeful as a razor. I would have sold my soul for that bike. But alas is was not to be.

Twenty years have passed since that day – Navy, college, career, marriage, and kids flow beneath the bridge of my life – but I still remember that feeling of mechanical lust. That bike was freedom, the physical summary of my youth. That bike was my rite of passage. It has been a long time since I’ve been back to Ann Arbor. Time has flipped things – bikes have gotten lighter, I’ve gotten heavier. That bike was once my singular desire, now she is a mildly noteworthy addition to my bike Harem. But every time I look at that Hypersport, now parked in the lobby of Icon’s design office, it takes me back to a different time. That’s what Icon is to me, that initial passion for motorcycles, and the constant chase to recapture that feeling.

WATCH HER DANCE

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