Kissing the limiter in third, I slam on the brakes and bury it deep into a sweet 90º left without hesitation, knee dragging on the surface beneath. On any other day, this wouldn’t be an extraordinary feat, but my laughter drowning out the engine, and the fact I’m riding BMW’s K 1600 GT with KISS FM blaring from its speakers, makes it utterly astonishing.
Having never ridden a K16 before, there was a massive amount of pre-ride trepidation. I mean, just look at it. It’s the 21st century, road-going equivalent of a German warship. There’s absolutely nothing sexy about it and many of you wouldn’t be seen dead riding one but, trust me, this was a minor revelation.
I had visions of six-pot wheelies and dragging the number plate for…
