A love letter to the God of motorbikes.

It has been more than a year since you have been taken away from me on that cold Monday night. I know, the Netherlands wasn’t your place. It wasn’t mine either.

You were born in Japan to a lovely family that everyone knows around the world. Moving to Italy was already a bit of a stretch for you… but we made it work anyway.

I was just 18 years old when I rode you for the first time; it still makes me smile thinking about our first time together. You were so powerful… you took my breath away.

It’s true I left you alone for many years while I was travelling overseas, also there, where you were born. It’s also true that I let my brother riding you. And probably the worst part of all is that in Amsterdam I left you waiting for me in the rain more than one time.

We shared many girls together, some were important, some a bit less, but all of them fell in love with you too.

I rode you on our first long road trip from Italy to the Netherlands, nobody believed in us, but we did it anyway. Despite our dangerous lifestyle, we never got into trouble with the authorities… was it luck or destiny?

Since you have been gone, it has not been the same. Needless to say that I haven’t ridden again. It’s not the same without you.

The truth is that I loved you, despite the distance, despite your age. I was your first, and I should have been the only one. I still love you even if you are no longer with me.

To the God of Motorbikes, please say hi to my stolen motorbike. I miss her.

Forever yours,

your first rider 🏍

TheLB