Motorcycle Annoyance: Getting Beaten by a UFO | Stickman Vinyls

Motorcycle Annoyance: Getting Beaten by a UFO

You’re blasting down the highway at 100mph on your 250bhp superbike, reveling at how exciting it is to be onboard such a powerful beast which surely represents the best in motorcycle engineering.

Head down, torso an inch above the gas tank, cars, trucks and whatever get blown into the weeds.

Suddenly, lights flash in the mirrors. Your heart sinks. COPS!

You glance into the mirrors and you see more clearly this time. Those lights are white, not flashing blue and red. You squint your eyes and catch sight of a black pancake sitting so close to the ground it seems to be hovering on the Earth’s magnetic field.

You gun the throttle, while simultaneously slamming your helmet’s chin-bar and chest on top of the gas tank. The bike’s engine kicks into warp mode and you’re now staring at the road ahead as if it is howling through a tunnel. Your arms go straight and your thighs burn as you brace against the G-forces. Speed picks up exponentially – 130, 140, 150, 160…

Hah! Take that! No four-wheeler is getting by you today!

Yet the lights behind are now fully in your mirrors. You bravely glance in the mirrors again. The lights behind are now jinking left, right, right, left.

Before you could decide to move over, it flies by on your right side and you catch a glimpse of the driver with a gold-plated phone stuck to his left ear. The car turns out to be a Lamborghini Centenario LP770-4.

Created by Lamborgini to commemorate founder Ferruccio Lamborghini’s 100th birthday, the Centenario boasts a 770bhp V-12 sunk into carbon-fiber body. It’s claimed to hit 60 mph in 2.8 seconds and a top speed of 217 mph.

You could only stare at the rear diffusers that must’ve been stolen off an alien spacecraft and swear that the driver was Bruce Wayne as it blasts into the horizon, leaving you in a hair-raising exhaust warble and fine pebbles that seem to float in mid-air. You didn’t even have time to mouth-off Samuel L. Jackson’s signature swear word.

Ego thrashed, you roll out of the throttle… speed comes down and down to 45 mph.

An SUV with Dad, Mom and kids pulls up and everyone looks at you, grinning. Dad points to the front, presumably at the Lambo. You peek down into the left fairing feigning a “mechanical” and wave them off.

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