We were allowed just two laps, and it took until the second time around before I figured out the controls and surface enough to at least somewhat pay attention to the screaming machine underneath me. Of course, it wasn't half as terrifying as I anticipated-how could it be? Granted, I wasn't sideways in the cushion spraying a 100-mph roost, but at my don't-f*ck-it-up pace the TZ750 felt like a perfectly tuned racebike. Throttle response was crisp (if a little rich), the suspension was surprisingly compliant and the bike even hooked up on the groove, thanks to better rubber than the stuff Roberts rode on back in the day. Even when I cracked the throttle along the back straight it didn't snap, stand up or do anything else untoward. It just lit up and stepped out as smoothly as any traction-controlled Superbike. No doubt it's a different animal on its side and on the pipe, but I sure as hell wasn't going to find out!