hello everyone new comer here and i got a problem!i have a 2003 busa and i lov it but the problem is my brother bought one of those darn zx10 he was telling me how he was gonna smoke me after he broke it in.i just laughed and said we will see thought i had nothing to worry about.sunday he came over on it and away we went.it was a little chilly here in pa (37)but who cares to the highway we go!!i hate to be the one to say this but he beat me icouldnt believe it the only time i had a half a chance was a 90 mph roll on i got the jump on him and thought i had him but once again i was wrong he wheelied past me i was so mad i went home and put it away!i took my busa to my dealer and had them check it out they said every thing was fine and asked me why i brought it in and and i told them i got smoked by a zx10 and they told me a stock busa and a stock zx10 that the zx10 will win everytime i was so mad i got on my bike and left.I didnt tell my brother anything yet but when we race again i wanna smoke him!!!! what mods can i do to achieve this keep in mind i wanna remain the stock look meaning no pipes any info is greatly appreciated thanks alot
well it happend
- Thread starter fairlane
- Start date
Ok fockers... check the IP... No, it isn't me in disguise!
hey guys im not messing around i just wanted some input on this situationOk fockers... check the IP... No, it isn't me in disguise!
I wasn't implying that you were playin' around. It's just that I catch a load of crap on this board for bein' a ZX-10R owner. I just figured someone would pop off about this bein' me tryin' to start some crap.hey guys im not messing around i just wanted some input on this situationOk fockers... check the IP... No, it isn't me in disguise!
A few questions for you... How long have you been riding? How long have you been riding a busa? How long as Bro been riding? Any mods on either bike? Were you racing from a dead stop or roll ons?
The answers to ALL of these questions could make a difference in who wins. Fwiw, though... I'm not sure I could agree with your dealer in that stock for stock a 10R would win every time even if you could eliminate rider experience/error... Granted my 10R feels like a more insane ride than the busa did, the busa applies it's power smoothly and isolates the rider from a lot of the direct feedback that the 10R sends right through the rider's bones so feel isn't a good indicator.
Oh, and by the way, welcome to the site.
Post up some pics of your busa.
me and my brother have been riding dirt bikes since we were 5 and riding street bikes since we were 16 im 33 and he is 35 so we are not some kids just jumping on the fastest bikes and raising hell.i like to think im a better rider then him but he feels the same we are very competeded in just about everything keeps it fun.we were doing roll ons.far as how long i been riding a busa i had my first one in 99 bought it new till late 02 having 16000 miles on her.i lost her in a garage fire then i bought my 03 got about 9500 mile on her.far as posting pictures i would love to but i will need help on how to post them i suck at computers this ones my girlfriends and it took me hours to get where im at but im up for a challenge thanks for any help oh by the way both bikes are stockI wasn't implying that you were playin' around. It's just that I catch a load of crap on this board for bein' a ZX-10R owner. I just figured someone would pop off about this bein' me tryin' to start some crap.hey guys im not messing around i just wanted some input on this situationOk fockers... check the IP... No, it isn't me in disguise!
A few questions for you... How long have you been riding? How long have you been riding a busa? How long as Bro been riding? Any mods on either bike? Were you racing from a dead stop or roll ons?
The answers to ALL of these questions could make a difference in who wins. Fwiw, though... I'm not sure I could agree with your dealer in that stock for stock a 10R would win every time even if you could eliminate rider experience/error... Granted my 10R feels like a more insane ride than the busa did, the busa applies it's power smoothly and isolates the rider from a lot of the direct feedback that the 10R sends right through the rider's bones so feel isn't a good indicator.
Yeah right...
Bike for bike the Busa will beat the 10. If he was beating you that bad it is your riding skills and more mods will not help that. Not meant to sound like a slam but the Busa will beat the 10. You will hear lots of talk about a 10 beating the Busa talk does not make it so. Have not seen an article to date of a 10 and Busa shoot out so until then the numbers speak for themselves!
Everytime someone introduces themselves with a story like this instead of an actual introduction, it turns out to be troll city.
The 10R and the Busa are about the same in HP. Busa has more torque which matters most but its also more than 100 lbs. heavier. The two bikes are so close in 1/4 mile times most races are won by who gets the hit. Change your front sprocket to a 16. They only cost about 20$ and will make a big difference in how fast the bike will accelerate.
busa1300nut
Registered
I smell a troll. Don,t feed it, and it will go away.
hey thanks maybe thats what i will do.far as justintme sounds like your all talk let me guess your one of those guys that think whatever you have is the best and your the best whatever dude im just tryin to get some ideas on what to do so if this is the way it is i guess i will have to get info somwhere else and another thing dont tell me you never got beat if you havent got beat before maybe you should race something other than a600 or a harley
busa1300nut
Registered
And by the way, 3 post, and no introduction. If I didn,t know better, I would say BT has something to do with this.
Dennis Keith did the Busa - ZX12 thing . If there is enough interest-maybe the magazine could do the same test again, but Busa vs ZX10 .........That would be the "truth"---no bias
just honest...stock for stock plus the other two mods they did.
Otherwise we are just arguing--which isn't so good.
hey i dont know that i hade to introduce my self and all that stuff im just tryin to get info so the guys that give info THANKS ALOT and the guys that say the other crap well i guess i will just take the good with the badAnd by the way, 3 post, and no introduction. If I didn,t know better, I would say BT has something to do with this.
WOW! That is without a doubt the most amazing thing I have ever read on the net! NO I AM DEAD SERIOUS! And here's why:
You see many many years ago, I had a brother too and I thought he was a good brother. We played in the sun, in the sandbox and on the swings and simply enjoyed our youth. Nothing could seperate us. We were never REALLY competitive and always respected each other... we had the same of everythign because our parents wanted us to feel equally loved... We both got a Schwinn bicycle for our 3rd birthday, his was red mine was blue and they went the same speed. One day he modified his front forks so it his bike would look like a chopper bike like we had seen a couple nights earlier when dad let us stay up way past our bedtime to watch a motorcycle movie. It was great! We were there in our lil jammies with the feet on them, eatin and throwin popcorn around and dad didn't mind. He just let us be kids. So, he added forkes on his bike and when he saw how impressed I was with his bike he turned around with a smile on his face and offered to help me make my bike look like that too. Well, one garage sale and minus two dollars later, me and my brother we too cool lookin, easy ridin, little dudes, and no one in the neighborhood was as far-out as we were... tie died t-shirts waving in the wind, head bands, big sunglasses, and my Coca-Cola red white and blue elephant bell blue jeans, Life was a ball. A couple years later, we both got those little minibikes with the tiny 1 hp engines that made that laughable put-put-put sound. Driving those thru the tall grass in the empty field felt like freedom that we knew would someday pass away and be replaced by jobs, debt, children and other responsibilty. Then we got real dirt bikes and learned to jump. I think this impressed the girls, because there were always a few littel girls standing around watching us be boys. This equal sharing of love for life and cycles continued on and on as we grew up and became teenagers. Then oneday, tragedy struck. Not in the form of death or illness or other physical pain, oh no. The type of deep seated resentment that can tear two great brothers apart, possibly permenantly seperating the inseperable. In our high school years, we both had basic style street motorcycles, the Hackuma 250s. His was red, mine was blue. We wer driving down past the soda shop in our small town and stopped at the corner so all teh other kids could, again witness our coolness. I had this huge grin on my face. While we were stopped and all the kids we waving at us in a muted slow motion, I saw Backy wink at my brother and then she blew him a kiss! My smile slowly calmed down into an open mouth gawk and I looked over at my brother, who was sticking him lips motioning a kiss back at her. We drove off and he didn't know the silent tourture I had just endured. As we raced across the rolling countryside between the wheat fields and corn, a storm was brewing quietly in my heart. I was remembering back to the weekend before when my brother and I were inside our tree house, sharing grape Koolaid and flipping thru the muddy Playboy magazines we'd found at a nearby dump, and making faces about the half naked women's bodies we did not yet fully understand. I understood enough about girls though, to confess to my beloved brother how neat-o I though Becky was and how funny and nice it made made me feel to think about us holding hands and just laughing at nothing together. I told him my inner most thoughts about the first girl I had a crush on, and we drank more grape Kool-aid and laughed all day. Now, with a fifty mile per hour breese blowing thruogh my hair, my smile was gone and my face very tight lipped as I considered Becky's lips touching my brothers instead of mine. As we rode, I focused on the road and my throttle started turning faster. I could see out of the corner of my eye that my brother's cycle was starting to fade behind. Then I saw it come back into view and ease ahead of mine. I remember twisting the throttle just a little more, so I could see his bike fade back again but just enough so he would not notice me turning the throttle. Again, his bike slowly pulled up next to me again. I imagined his confused look that I could not see as I focused on nothing but the road directly ahead of me. Then, I don't know why, but I twisted the throttle all the way to the stopper and saw his bike fade from view and get smaller in my mirrors. I kept going and never looked back. In a way, I sarted living that way every day - never looking back. We rarely talked at home except for the basics about when dinner was or what was on TV, but over time we grew apart and in hidden ways, very competitive. He and Becky never got to kiss from what I heard at school, and they stopped going together after maybe a week. None of that mattered, since the granite pillars of trust and respect were since shattered into tiny dust particals, blown away by the winds of riding my cycle full open on the wonderful, horrible summer day. After graduation, we both moved out and went our very seperate ways. He went to law school and I joined the army. We kept growing older and at the same time farther apart. No phone calls, no emails, no Christmas cards. Deep down inside, he know why. Life was fine, but it never felt as great as it did when I knew my brother was with me instead of against me. The years past and I guess our love for cycling continued. Then one day something amazing happened. I was out in the garage listening to Styx on the portable CD player and shining up the busa for an after noon ride, and a Kawasaki ZX-10R stops in the street in front of me. The rider put both his feet down but keep his head looking strait thru his smoked colored visior. After a few seconds of pause, he glanced over at me. Then he looked forward again. I stood in the driveway, cleaning my hands up with a rag and sort of stared at him wondering what was going on. A few seconds later, he dropped his head to look at his tank and shook it back and forth ever so slightly. He rolled back a couple feet and then poped into gear and rolled up next to me and shut her down. He took off his helmet, pushed the long sweaty hair away from his face and revealed my brother. We didn't say anything for maybe a minute, just looking into each others eyes like two panthers just waiting for the other to do something stupid. A slight wind blew. I tossed my rag back into the garage. Then suprisingly, he looked over at my Hayabusa, then back at me. Without saying a word, he motioned his head to the left meaning down the street. I understood the code and quickly slid on my leathers as he fired his bike back up. We took off down the road and hit the countryside for a while, enjoying high speed sweepers and and the occasional 'get on it' strait away, and for me in many ways it was summer in highschool and we were riding our Hackuma 250s without a care in the world. We rolled for a good couple of hours, and I don not believe either of us were paying any attention to where we wer going. The first stop we finally came to was a four way intersection, in the middle of a small town. There was a building to our right tha t used to be a soda shop but now had a sign saying "First Commonwealth Bank FDIC" above it. I stared at the sidewalk for a moment, and in a flash like lightening revealing an entire raincloud hidden in a dark night sky, I was becky as blowing a kiss, then she was gone. We tok off down the road again and we gradually got over all the hills onto a long strait away. There was too much at stake now. It was me and my blood brother on a Hayabusa and a ZX-10R, and the open road ahead. I twisted my throttle to the stopper and I head the whine from the ZX-10r do the same. The front came up about 12 inches and continued as I shot forward clutchless kicking it into 2nd. I heard the 10 shift seconds later and we were both going two times the speed os those 250s and there was plenty of engine and road left. All I saw was a blur of green fields on either side and the gray pavement stretching endlessly in front of me. We were running the gears now and with each shift I pegged the throttle again until we were both in 6th. It was a time warp tunnel of wind noise rushing by at 179 miles per hour, completely blanketing the noise or our engines. But in my bones I cold still feel the RPMs of the 10R next to me, and I could see the shadown of the bike next to me out of the corner of my right eye. Neither of us let up. Somewhere on the un marked top end of sixth gear, I saw my brother slowly fade behind me and appear in my side mirror. He was fully tucked and it almost looked like the bike was speeding along like a bullet totally riderless. A few more seconds of this intense rush and I ease off the throttle and slowly slid my body up using the rushing wind as an air brake. I knew he was bck there but I didn't know or care how far back. it wasn't far. We rolled up to the next stop, and just looked strait ahead for a bit, trying to unwind. When I had cought my wind, I removed my gloves, set the on the tank and unbuckled my helmet. Pulling it off, breathing a sigh of relief, I rested my helt on the tank, proped an arm on the helmet and glanced over. My brother, looked at me thru his dark visior, and then cocked his head to the left a little as if to ask a question unanswered for years. I looked toward his eyes thru the dark plastic, sort of laughed internally, and said, "... for Becky."
He straitened his head up, did a deep, slow nod, popped into first and pulled away. I watched him ride off, pull a power wheelie in 2nd for about a mile, until he vanished over the crest of the hill.
I had a smile on my face as I rode home. I had a new story to tell and a new connection with my brother that I couldn't wait to share. Becky and the kids will love it.
So you see?? We are very much alike, fairlane. Except that in my story the busa wins, on every level.
<!--EDIT|WWJD
Reason for Edit: "bank is spelled with an N these days"|1105755712 -->
You see many many years ago, I had a brother too and I thought he was a good brother. We played in the sun, in the sandbox and on the swings and simply enjoyed our youth. Nothing could seperate us. We were never REALLY competitive and always respected each other... we had the same of everythign because our parents wanted us to feel equally loved... We both got a Schwinn bicycle for our 3rd birthday, his was red mine was blue and they went the same speed. One day he modified his front forks so it his bike would look like a chopper bike like we had seen a couple nights earlier when dad let us stay up way past our bedtime to watch a motorcycle movie. It was great! We were there in our lil jammies with the feet on them, eatin and throwin popcorn around and dad didn't mind. He just let us be kids. So, he added forkes on his bike and when he saw how impressed I was with his bike he turned around with a smile on his face and offered to help me make my bike look like that too. Well, one garage sale and minus two dollars later, me and my brother we too cool lookin, easy ridin, little dudes, and no one in the neighborhood was as far-out as we were... tie died t-shirts waving in the wind, head bands, big sunglasses, and my Coca-Cola red white and blue elephant bell blue jeans, Life was a ball. A couple years later, we both got those little minibikes with the tiny 1 hp engines that made that laughable put-put-put sound. Driving those thru the tall grass in the empty field felt like freedom that we knew would someday pass away and be replaced by jobs, debt, children and other responsibilty. Then we got real dirt bikes and learned to jump. I think this impressed the girls, because there were always a few littel girls standing around watching us be boys. This equal sharing of love for life and cycles continued on and on as we grew up and became teenagers. Then oneday, tragedy struck. Not in the form of death or illness or other physical pain, oh no. The type of deep seated resentment that can tear two great brothers apart, possibly permenantly seperating the inseperable. In our high school years, we both had basic style street motorcycles, the Hackuma 250s. His was red, mine was blue. We wer driving down past the soda shop in our small town and stopped at the corner so all teh other kids could, again witness our coolness. I had this huge grin on my face. While we were stopped and all the kids we waving at us in a muted slow motion, I saw Backy wink at my brother and then she blew him a kiss! My smile slowly calmed down into an open mouth gawk and I looked over at my brother, who was sticking him lips motioning a kiss back at her. We drove off and he didn't know the silent tourture I had just endured. As we raced across the rolling countryside between the wheat fields and corn, a storm was brewing quietly in my heart. I was remembering back to the weekend before when my brother and I were inside our tree house, sharing grape Koolaid and flipping thru the muddy Playboy magazines we'd found at a nearby dump, and making faces about the half naked women's bodies we did not yet fully understand. I understood enough about girls though, to confess to my beloved brother how neat-o I though Becky was and how funny and nice it made made me feel to think about us holding hands and just laughing at nothing together. I told him my inner most thoughts about the first girl I had a crush on, and we drank more grape Kool-aid and laughed all day. Now, with a fifty mile per hour breese blowing thruogh my hair, my smile was gone and my face very tight lipped as I considered Becky's lips touching my brothers instead of mine. As we rode, I focused on the road and my throttle started turning faster. I could see out of the corner of my eye that my brother's cycle was starting to fade behind. Then I saw it come back into view and ease ahead of mine. I remember twisting the throttle just a little more, so I could see his bike fade back again but just enough so he would not notice me turning the throttle. Again, his bike slowly pulled up next to me again. I imagined his confused look that I could not see as I focused on nothing but the road directly ahead of me. Then, I don't know why, but I twisted the throttle all the way to the stopper and saw his bike fade from view and get smaller in my mirrors. I kept going and never looked back. In a way, I sarted living that way every day - never looking back. We rarely talked at home except for the basics about when dinner was or what was on TV, but over time we grew apart and in hidden ways, very competitive. He and Becky never got to kiss from what I heard at school, and they stopped going together after maybe a week. None of that mattered, since the granite pillars of trust and respect were since shattered into tiny dust particals, blown away by the winds of riding my cycle full open on the wonderful, horrible summer day. After graduation, we both moved out and went our very seperate ways. He went to law school and I joined the army. We kept growing older and at the same time farther apart. No phone calls, no emails, no Christmas cards. Deep down inside, he know why. Life was fine, but it never felt as great as it did when I knew my brother was with me instead of against me. The years past and I guess our love for cycling continued. Then one day something amazing happened. I was out in the garage listening to Styx on the portable CD player and shining up the busa for an after noon ride, and a Kawasaki ZX-10R stops in the street in front of me. The rider put both his feet down but keep his head looking strait thru his smoked colored visior. After a few seconds of pause, he glanced over at me. Then he looked forward again. I stood in the driveway, cleaning my hands up with a rag and sort of stared at him wondering what was going on. A few seconds later, he dropped his head to look at his tank and shook it back and forth ever so slightly. He rolled back a couple feet and then poped into gear and rolled up next to me and shut her down. He took off his helmet, pushed the long sweaty hair away from his face and revealed my brother. We didn't say anything for maybe a minute, just looking into each others eyes like two panthers just waiting for the other to do something stupid. A slight wind blew. I tossed my rag back into the garage. Then suprisingly, he looked over at my Hayabusa, then back at me. Without saying a word, he motioned his head to the left meaning down the street. I understood the code and quickly slid on my leathers as he fired his bike back up. We took off down the road and hit the countryside for a while, enjoying high speed sweepers and and the occasional 'get on it' strait away, and for me in many ways it was summer in highschool and we were riding our Hackuma 250s without a care in the world. We rolled for a good couple of hours, and I don not believe either of us were paying any attention to where we wer going. The first stop we finally came to was a four way intersection, in the middle of a small town. There was a building to our right tha t used to be a soda shop but now had a sign saying "First Commonwealth Bank FDIC" above it. I stared at the sidewalk for a moment, and in a flash like lightening revealing an entire raincloud hidden in a dark night sky, I was becky as blowing a kiss, then she was gone. We tok off down the road again and we gradually got over all the hills onto a long strait away. There was too much at stake now. It was me and my blood brother on a Hayabusa and a ZX-10R, and the open road ahead. I twisted my throttle to the stopper and I head the whine from the ZX-10r do the same. The front came up about 12 inches and continued as I shot forward clutchless kicking it into 2nd. I heard the 10 shift seconds later and we were both going two times the speed os those 250s and there was plenty of engine and road left. All I saw was a blur of green fields on either side and the gray pavement stretching endlessly in front of me. We were running the gears now and with each shift I pegged the throttle again until we were both in 6th. It was a time warp tunnel of wind noise rushing by at 179 miles per hour, completely blanketing the noise or our engines. But in my bones I cold still feel the RPMs of the 10R next to me, and I could see the shadown of the bike next to me out of the corner of my right eye. Neither of us let up. Somewhere on the un marked top end of sixth gear, I saw my brother slowly fade behind me and appear in my side mirror. He was fully tucked and it almost looked like the bike was speeding along like a bullet totally riderless. A few more seconds of this intense rush and I ease off the throttle and slowly slid my body up using the rushing wind as an air brake. I knew he was bck there but I didn't know or care how far back. it wasn't far. We rolled up to the next stop, and just looked strait ahead for a bit, trying to unwind. When I had cought my wind, I removed my gloves, set the on the tank and unbuckled my helmet. Pulling it off, breathing a sigh of relief, I rested my helt on the tank, proped an arm on the helmet and glanced over. My brother, looked at me thru his dark visior, and then cocked his head to the left a little as if to ask a question unanswered for years. I looked toward his eyes thru the dark plastic, sort of laughed internally, and said, "... for Becky."
He straitened his head up, did a deep, slow nod, popped into first and pulled away. I watched him ride off, pull a power wheelie in 2nd for about a mile, until he vanished over the crest of the hill.
I had a smile on my face as I rode home. I had a new story to tell and a new connection with my brother that I couldn't wait to share. Becky and the kids will love it.
So you see?? We are very much alike, fairlane. Except that in my story the busa wins, on every level.
<!--EDIT|WWJD
Reason for Edit: "bank is spelled with an N these days"|1105755712 -->
congradulations on the victories were the bikes stock? i hope you and your brother are talking cause you know the saying BRO'S BEFORE P.S GOOD STORY
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