I somehow clearly recall taking my buddy Frank's 99 Busa from his well appoonted and humongous personal garage right off IL 41 Skokie Hywy up to the close by next stop n go light at Buckley Rd (IL 176). Frank currently has 3 beautiful Busas and Vettes in his club house plus a few stragglers
Anyway, I then hopped on I 294 north toward Milwaukee.
After it and I warmed up, I summoned the nerve and slowly rolled it on FWO while holding on and getting as small as I could.
This was before my stomach and back disallowed such postures.
At some point up near 6 Flags Great America in Gurnee at IL 132 Grand Ave, I managed to focus down on the speedometer for an instant.
I blinked thrice through the tears running down my cheeks and thought I saw a blurry 201 mph.
I stretched the cables to ensure that was it, and that was all there was.
It was like an early F1 video game screen dodging the occasional back marker but for some reason in my overloaded grey matter in B&W...
I was then able to tell my right wrist to roll off and and my chest to breath again for what seemed the first time in 10 miles.
When down to 110, it seemed like I was just sauntering down the 4-lane wide portland cement concrete superslab.
70 was a comparatively catatonic pace.
When Frank got his 2nd Gen Busa I repeated the effort.
It was a tad slower but being much more refined, it was considerably less over-stimulating. Which was actually more enjoyable because it allowed me to relax more and absorb all the input to my senses.
As I said, Life Begins at 140 mph on two wheels...
I gotta give Frank a call!
His health has also put him through the wringer too.
It's Hell getting old...