By early '99, however, we'd discovered that, whatever the Hayabusa was, it was one hell of a motorcycle, going, stopping and turning like no big bike we'd ever ridden-and we'd pretty much ridden them all. When the tire dust and radar-gun electrons had settled, the 'Busa had totally won us over, running 189 mph out in the high desert and running away with Motorcyclist's '99 Motorcycle of the Year trophy. Here was a sportbike that was as happy running to the local bike shop as it was ripping off 10-second quarters at the strip on Friday night. It idled. It was quiet. And it ran like some crazed, mechanized demon.