Future dreams.

The mists blew in cold sheets across the moors. The solitary bike had been dropped against one of the few posts still managing to survive in this bleakness. Footsteps were long gone, along with any hope of the bike working this night. Dark clouds heavy with rain will soon be claiming another prize.

My name is of no importance, I'm a traveller, not new age type from the bad old eighties and nineties, mind you, I'm of an older time. I got caught in earlier times of poverty, crawled a niche, and decided not to climb out, back the world of mortgages, debt, and too many hassles worth living for. I once had a couple of Triumph fours, even a Rudge. In those days, life was nice, but now consists of wandering, some would say I live with minimum impact on the environment, well what ever you like to call it, I'm a tramp.

To some, these moors are just a wilderness, but to me they supply a good rabbit stew, with herbs of course, and a side salad of fresh vegetables. Occasionally a few wild strawberries. Well, back to the moors, and this bike propped against the post. I first noticed it by the strange wail of its exhaust, not at all like the Rudge I once owned. The Rudge used to go pocca, pocca, in a slow staccato, but this machine was a wail of high revs, a high pitched crying from the exhaust. A sound like a banshee in pain.

I sat, huddled against the wind, fascinated by the sound as it climbed over the pass, the mist added a certain spookiness, and when the wail died suddenly, I became intrigued. What kind of beast is this? I've seen them pass like a blur, but never for a good look. I must find out.

Walking to the road, I heard a loud curse, the rider certainly had an interesting vocabulary, and what's more could use it properly, with great emotion. By the time I reach the bike, he was disappearing down the road. Although it was fairly dark, I realised this was no ordinary beast before me.

The lines were compact, there was no room around the engine. On my old bikes, you could put your arm around the cylinder head, on this, trying to stick a pencil anywhere would be tricky. A closer look was definitely called for.

The first thing to surprise me was the engine. The engine wasn't aluminium, some form of black plastic. It looks woven, quite hard, yet nice and warm too. I warm my hands on the engine, and look closer. It took some time to recognise the cylinder head, the only clue were the exhaust pipes, and even they were pointing back towards the rear wheel. The pipes seem very big, ah the reason, they are watercooled. Next to find the carbs, no luck, definitely no carbs. The carbs should be opposite the exhaust port, all I can find is simple piping leading under the tank. The tank seems suspect of it's intended purpose too.

I sit on the grass and look. The machine definitely has two wheels, its a bike, that's certain. The rider was human, if only by the language used. The bike drives along roads, and the engine is definitely powerful. The origin of this machine is testing my curiosity. Another look is needed. Fuel, it must need fuel, petrol is still used widely, if somewhat expensively. I find the fuel cap on the back of the seat, locked, but no key hole. I can smell petrol, but only after a lot of sniffing. The engine is still troubling me. From what I can see of the wiring loom it's a monster on this bike, and seems to like engine sensors. This is getting very interesting. It must have engine management, possibly fuel injection too. The cylinder head seems too small for my liking, no rocker covers or cam tunnels. All I see is a long lump, with the exhaust and inlets attached. It could be a rotary valve I suppose, the way the engine seemed to scream certainly gave the feeling of thriving on revs. Right then, if it thrives on revs, then how many gears. I look but could find no levers, not even on the handlebars.

The wind seems to hold off, as if I'm not the only one who wants to find out more about this beast.

The handlebars seem about right, even if they are oval and tapered, a beautiful sculpture in themselves. The throttle's weird, it opens up like normal, with smooth spring pressure behind it, but it also rotates forward slightly, but with more resistance. If there are no brake levers, then I suppose it could have the throttle working the brakes by turning the twist grip forwards. I begin to like this bike.

What is this bike. I think I'm close by thinking it has a water cooled, carbon fibre, rotary valved, fuel injected, computer controlled engine, revving, according to the tacho to 25,000 rpm. According to the dash, the overdrive gear is number eight, but with no gear lever, I think I'm missing something. It can't be an automatic, surely, bikers don't like such sluggishness. Perhaps it has semi automatic gears, with the rider deciding the way it works. I look at the controls, and next to a slot marked ' Ignition ' find a switch marked 'Gears', with settings of 'Economy', 'Town', 'Cruising', 'Sport', and 'Competition'.

I like this bike even more, but the frame is left until last, as it frightens me. The wheels I can recognise, at least they're round, with very wide black rubber tyres, this I can handle. What bothers me is the way the wheels are mounted. The centre of each wheel is bare, there are no brake hubs. Both wheels are heavily dished and supported only on one side. The support arms are slender, oval, sheer works of art. The front arm has hydraulic pipes controlling what must be the steering, but it all seems far too loose and lightly sprung. I move the handlebars and find they don't even turn the front wheel. The rear wheel has no chain, and although the swingarm is larger, I can see no way of transferring power to the wheel. I'm still intrigued by this machine, but I don't like this, in fact it almost frightens me. I certainly find the frame design very far removed from the bikes I used to ride, even back in the late 1990's. The clouds begin to clear, small streaks of light beam down through the clouds as if to encourage me to stay a little longer.

I still wonder what caused this magnificently crafted machine to stop. I look hopefully for a problem, but find nothing obvious. I've wasted enough time, I must be off. Before I go, I'll just have a quick sit astride the bike. I throw my leg over, and it really feels nice.

I almost drop the bike as a voice from the dash says "This is a stolen bike. This bike has been immobilised as the owner has reported it stolen. Please identify yourself ". It takes a few seconds for me to calm down, realise there's no one around and that the bike talks. I hesitantly give my name, and after a few more seconds, the bike asks me for identification. I slip my old driving licence into the ignition slot on the dash, it fits, thank goodness for standardisation. Another wait, then I'm asked my place of birth. "One moment please".

It must be my birthday, the machine says " Your licence is still valid, will you please drive this machine to the nearest motorcycle dealer, for return to the owner, a reward is yours upon delivery. If this is not possible, please phone the police as soon as is practicable. Do you wish to drive ". I answer with a stunned "Yes please".

The dash lights up, and the engine fires into a gorgeous whine of pure power. The steering suddenly works, and the suspension feels just right, nice and firm. The machine says ' Antilock braking check OK, Active suspension check OK, Engine management check OK, Fuel for two hundred miles'.

I calm down, check the bike over, and select the ' Sport' gears. I sweat a little and ease open the throttle.

(C)J.Partridge.1993.