New York City is a difficult place to love a motorcycle.  

In this town, riding is properly dangerous.  You can feel like a ball in a pinball machine.    

Add to that parking  - which could be so far away from home that a taxi or subway is required to get back.  Or someone else's parking, where you may find your whip in a prone, rather than upright position.  

Can't forget NYC's infamous, oblivious, taxis -- to whom the only thing that matters is getting across 3 lanes as fast and dangerously as possible. Anything (everything) in its path be damned.

Yet enduring, surviving this harsh l'existence du moto is worth (nearly) every single punishing minute.   Forget the precious few miles we ride outside a grid with stoplights on every block.   Put aside the many layers required to feign warmth.  In October.

We ride in the Greatest City in the World!  

Simply being in New York is exhilarating.   Even as it tests and stresses and pushes every fiber in your fabric.  

Experiencing New York City on two-wheels:   Off. The. Charts!  

Density and intensity multiplied by sensory overload.  At all times.  Plus pizza, ramen and sushi to die for.

Style is key.  What you ride and how you look doing it are as basic as twisting the throttle.  

Anyone who says that's not probably from Boston.

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