The Kawasaki Z1000 zooms into ARMAN AHMAD’s world and suddenly, life’s one hell of a ride.

I drove to Shah Alam last week to test out the new Kawasaki Z1000, and suddenly - life seemed to whizz by in a blurred frenzy of excitement.
 It all started on a Friday afternoon.
 I had parked my car at the Kawasaki showroom, and was making pleasant conversation with a representative from the company when I heard a soft buzz, and caught a glimpse of one of their technicians gliding by on a most unusual contraption.  Abruptly ending our little talk, I walked out of the showroom to stare at it.
 It was black. Parked on the driveway, it soaked up the bright rays of the sun.
 Looking at it, the thought struck me that this abomination of sharp edges and cold, polished steel did not belong anywhere near the other gaily coloured bikes in the Kawasaki showroom.
 It looked like an outcast - an odd, unholy mutant borne from bits and pieces of it's own kindred siblings.     
 It had a small headlamp, and four oddly shaped triangular exhausts.

 The tail was from a ZX-6R. A huge, 1000cc lump sourced from a ZX-9R dominated the centre. It seemed as if the demented engineering genius that had created the bike had meant this as the point of focus.
 All other parts that sprouted from that central mass were mere appendages that seemed underdeveloped compared to the immensity of that in-line four.

It was like nothing I had seen before.
 And oddly enough, I felt drawn to it.
 As I put my gloved hand on the tip of it's handle bar, I felt a tingle go down my spine.
 Then the technician handed me the keys.   

  Riding out to the main road, I twisted the throttle to get a feel of the acceleration.
 With a soft whirr from the in-line four, the bike accelerated like a bat out of hell.
 Approaching a corner, I braked. The dual, four-pot calipers grabbed the huge discs and shaved off the speed in an instant.
 It was breathtaking. The sense of power was overwhelming.

But I didn't have time to ride the beast yet. My friend Ern, who had accompanied me to Shah Alam would take it to Kuala Lumpur because I had something else to take care of.
 As I drove home, my thoughts lingered on it.
 If it appears Manga-like, it is rightly so.

 I spent the weekend getting to know my new dark companion.
 On a Saturday, we rode up the Karak highway in the wee morning hours.
 The sun had barely crested the Titiwangsa range when we raced across the mountainside, the shadows chasing at our heels.
 There was traffic along the highway, but the beast's superlight steering and powerful brakes made picking our way through simple.
 Kilometre after kilometre, I become more and more at one with the bike.
 Faster and faster I rode, until everything became a blur.
 Earth, horizon, tarmac and sky - all blended into a kaleidoscope of surreal colours.
 I rode fast. Faster than I ever thought possible.
 But it felt so easy.
       It was almost as if the the evil spirit of the bike had permeated the leather of my Alpinestars and spread it's invisible tentacles into my deepest thoughts.

 It was as if it knew where I wanted to go even before I myself had even thought about it.
 And it made me feel powerful, virile almost invincible.
 Coming down Genting I chased down a hapless biker on an R1.
 He was a straggler, an inexperienced rider unable to keep up with the faster bikers in the pack.
 In a single downshift, the Z1000 was right behind him, it's beaklike fairing sniffing his rear end. By the next corner, it had already defeated it's quarry - and already homing on it's next prey.  
 It was then that it struck me.

This was not a normal motorcycle. When you ride it, it becomes an extension of yourself.
 It was an instrument which extended your free will - amplifying it with the ferocity of 125 mad horsepowers.
 But in the process, a little bit of it's evil crept into you.

 The Z1000 was designed by Japanese designer Shunji Tanaka - the same master that created the cult-status Mazda Miata.
 But the z1000 is not just about style.
 Because the engine, suspension, swingarm, wheels and brakes are either from the current or previous generation ZX-9r, the bike has the kind of performance you find in a top notch sportsbike.     
 A diamond frame holds the bits and pieces together. Made from large-diameter, thin-wall steel tubing the frame uses the 953cc engine as a stressed member.
 Despite the high tech wizardry, the bike's ancestry can be traced back to the legendary Z1, which Kawasaki introduced in 1973. 
 When I reached the Gombak toll plaza, I stopped for a while - my heart pounding and my senses heightened from the adrelanine rush. I had learned enough about the incredible power of this monster.
 On Monday, I returned the bike to Shah Alam.
 As I walked away, I could feel the heat of those twin projector headlamps boring into the back of my head - mocking me - daring me to come back and try another run up Genting at insane speeds. Speeds well above the national speed limit.

But I had enough.
 Opening the door to my car, I stowed away my riding gear and helmet and drove off into the morning sunshine, not daring to look back.
 I would write more about my experience, but I'm afraid - you the reader wouldn't believe me, 
 So maybe you should try it for yourself by calling Kawasaki Sunrock at 03-55665688.
 Yes. It was a most remarkable week. Even as I write this article, my hands still tremble.