Although my loaner Trumpet wasn't technically vintage, all of the challenges I faced riding around Barber reminded me of why I love classic motorcycle racing. The Thruxton belted out a raspy, visceral note, but it also chattered, wiggled, wobbled, and protested steep lean angles. To me, this kind of riding is such a beautifully symbiotic compromise between man and machine. Rather than holding on for dear life like most of us do on a modern sportbike, it's working with the machine to go as fast as possible—like riding a skittish horse. Smooth and predictable, and when the bike pushes back the rider must react gently, coaxing the motorcycle back on line.