At 5'-6" tall, I'm a card carrying member of the Vertically Challenged. I, like most of you, choose a motorcycle that works for me without much thought of what others will think. I've always dug Sportsters, even before I was out of grade school. So, with that being said, I find myself walking through the doors of the 2007 Cycle World International Motor Cycle Show in Long Beach, California.

I've been here before and know the routine. Jump on every bike, go get a beer, jump on 'em again and get some more beer. I even knocked over a rather tall BMW in an attempt to dismount. Hysterical to me, not so humorous to the BMW folks. Anyway, I stumble upon the 2008 Sportster N, or Nightster as she's also known. Wow, I was impressed....no, I was in love.

I jumped on the horn with Keith R. Ball the big cheese at Bikernet.com and unload my enthusiasm concerning this nasty little 1200N. In an attempt to hault my numerous and annoying phone calls, Mr. Ball arranged for me to road test this Sporty for Bikernet. Besides, I don't think it would work out so well with him testing this bike being that Ball is tilting the upper side of six feet four inches. So I'm elected.

My experience has always been with iron heads, carbs, and chain final drives. This EFI and belt drive crap would be completely new to me. Always one to be slow at jumping into the new fangled shit, I'm even semi green in the cell phone department. Did fine before I had one. Couldn't see the reason to be happy about being bothered by the fucking thing ringing every two minutes, but that's just me.

I can almost hear some of you out there with the, "Oh, a sportster, a chick bike." Let me tell ya something Jackson, this is a light weight 1200 Sportster with fuel injection. This ain't no chick bike (well, you know what I'm trying to say). If some of you out there are still hung up on that bullshit, looking at the clock, I would say it's about time for you to go fuck yourself. Enough of that, let's get back to the bike.

The day came to pick her up. I jump into the Official Bikernet Transportation Vehicle chauffeured by none other than the big daddy of Bikernet himself, The Honorable Bandit, himself. He is the only one that can get my sorry ass into the Harley-Davidson west coast holding facility that contains all the pristine new bikes available only to the press and the movie industry. At the facility, all paper work and processing is handled like a Swiss watch. No bullshit involved, old school American management at its best. Refreshing.

We hit the road. Riding an unfamiliar bike at the beginning of rush hour in Southern California is without a doubt an e- ticket ride. I followed Bandit to the Bikernet International Headquarters, which is not that horribly far away. Once there, I pull the Sporty into the "media area" and shut her down.

Bandit hands me a towel and barks, "wipe it down, we're gonna take pictures." Funny, I never saw a camera. Sin Wu walks in and throws something at me, but am able to duck in time. Ah, Bikernet Headquarters, it still gives me that warm fuzzy feeling......or, it could be from the greasy tacos we stopped for on the way. Something always happens at Bikernet, but I'm not sure what. Maybe the key is in the spiritual green tea she slips me, or her alabaster skin revealed to me between small fragile layers of silk.

It's now time for me to start home with the new Sportster, which I do with no fanfare from the headquarters. But as I put my departure into motion and head off into the orange-ish brown polluted sunset of Southern California, I hear the roar from Bandit... "DON'T FUCK UP THAT BIKE"! I smile, not so much from his kind instructions, but more from letting out that last big "frap" from that taco.

Next- Taking her for a ride.

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