A classic revisited
Posted: Thu Sep 14, 2017 3:05 pm
A short poem written by Pete Ahrens in 1999 that appeared on the website and the Express [?] back then. I like to give it a bump every few years as I think it deserves it. It explains to me my passion for this bike and perhaps does that for others also.
Giri and Kokoro
The last Northern Summer of the 20th Century.
Twenty years ago, guided by an extraordinary vision of excellence tempered and proven in the arena of sport, the sons of fierce warriors and sublime artisans crafted the awesome machine that we now love. These men understood what they had made, and proudly offered it to the world.
The world rode on.
Now that machine is ours. The CBX Motorcycle belongs to us!
Unlike the magnificent Brough of Lawrence, the legendary Vincent of Rollie Free, and the nomadic Indian of Lee Marvin, the maker of the CBX still exists. Yet strangely this maker no longer truly claims his rarest and finest creation, the beautiful and powerful offspring of the Promethean fires tended by Hailwood, Redman, and Bryan. Now we are responsible for the destiny of this truly fine example of the Motorcycle, that exciting chic icon of 20th Century rebellion and freedom, constructed by Honda at the very pinnacle of what that powerful corporation now proclaims and celebrates as its Classic Era.
We, the CBX owners of the world, have the great good fortune to possess this glorious machine, and the CBX Motorcycle has the great good fortune to possess us.
The eldest models of the CBX are aged one score, the eldest CBX owners approach three and more. The CBX Motorcycle lives in a time-binding realm of owner generations, ridden, renewed, and cherished by its owner, then when and if necessary, passed to a new aficionado who will also ride, renew, and cherish it. We and our CBX inheritors collectively have the mind, the spirit, the will, and the treasure, to guarantee this process well into the New Millennium.
The fathers of those sons, steeped in Bushido, would have called it giri. Our duty.
For us, millennial CBX owners and motorcycle aficionados, it is kokoro. Our heart. It is our passion to preserve the CBX Motorcycle.
Yours in Motorcycling,
Pete Ahrens
Giri and Kokoro
The last Northern Summer of the 20th Century.
Twenty years ago, guided by an extraordinary vision of excellence tempered and proven in the arena of sport, the sons of fierce warriors and sublime artisans crafted the awesome machine that we now love. These men understood what they had made, and proudly offered it to the world.
The world rode on.
Now that machine is ours. The CBX Motorcycle belongs to us!
Unlike the magnificent Brough of Lawrence, the legendary Vincent of Rollie Free, and the nomadic Indian of Lee Marvin, the maker of the CBX still exists. Yet strangely this maker no longer truly claims his rarest and finest creation, the beautiful and powerful offspring of the Promethean fires tended by Hailwood, Redman, and Bryan. Now we are responsible for the destiny of this truly fine example of the Motorcycle, that exciting chic icon of 20th Century rebellion and freedom, constructed by Honda at the very pinnacle of what that powerful corporation now proclaims and celebrates as its Classic Era.
We, the CBX owners of the world, have the great good fortune to possess this glorious machine, and the CBX Motorcycle has the great good fortune to possess us.
The eldest models of the CBX are aged one score, the eldest CBX owners approach three and more. The CBX Motorcycle lives in a time-binding realm of owner generations, ridden, renewed, and cherished by its owner, then when and if necessary, passed to a new aficionado who will also ride, renew, and cherish it. We and our CBX inheritors collectively have the mind, the spirit, the will, and the treasure, to guarantee this process well into the New Millennium.
The fathers of those sons, steeped in Bushido, would have called it giri. Our duty.
For us, millennial CBX owners and motorcycle aficionados, it is kokoro. Our heart. It is our passion to preserve the CBX Motorcycle.
Yours in Motorcycling,
Pete Ahrens