There's something visceral and deeply personal about the dream to ride. Some of us are born into it, inheriting a passion from our parents or older siblings. Others pick it up later, discovering the thrill of two wheels through chance encounters. But no matter how we find our way to riding, we all know that the riding life is unlike any other. It’s the cool breeze rushing by, the leans and twists of the road, the sense of freedom and adventure that just cannot be imitated by anything else. 

For me, that dream began on my 10th birthday, when my dad chucked me on the back of his ZX-6R sportbike. I clearly remember the adrenaline, the thrill, and yes, a sprinkle of fear, as we cruised along together. Squeezing him tightly as I grinned from ear to ear – knowing no amusement park ride would ever come close. I naturally fell in love with the roar of the open throttle, and the idea that one day I’d have my own bike, just like dad.

But for years, that dream remained just a dream. I was the friend who’d always talk about getting a licence, imagining that "one day" when I’d finally join the two-wheeled community myself. That day arrived in early 2020, when lockdowns stripped away all my old excuses – and I finally got myself onto the learner’s permit course.

Early speedbumps

While my childhood memories of riding with my dad were vivid, my knowledge of bikes was still rotten. I wasn’t surrounded by bikers growing up, so I found myself asking questions like, “What are CCs – tortilla chips?” “Are motorbikes automatic?” and even “Where’s the reverse?” As I immersed myself in the world of motorcycling, I quickly found out how much I had to learn.

It didn’t take long for me to absorb the common wisdom shared within the bike community. “A loud exhaust means drivers see you, which makes you safer” – or so I was told. I adopted the same mindset, justifying the need for noise and upgrading my own exhaust (by myself, I’m proud to say).

I gravitated toward supersport bikes, not only because that’s what my dad rode, but because I loved their sleek shape and sporty look. The sports bike community became my family, with all its quirky rules and points of view. Cruisers and touring bikes just weren’t a part of my world.

And, of course, I had my own biases. I didn’t see myself on anything but a supersport. It wasn’t just preference; it was a lack of exposure. I thought I knew what I liked, and I didn’t see the need to try anything else. Talk about blissful ignorance!

Making the switch

Then, one day, everything changed. Through social media, Dennis Savic contacted me and invited me to visit the Savic Motorcycles workshop. Despite my limited experience with different types of bikes, the first time I laid eyes on the C-Series, I was smitten. This bike was different, one of a kind. Its style, features, and attention to detail were unlike anything I’d ever seen before: innovative but undeniably cool. I could tell right away that the team had put their heart and soul into creating something special, and I wanted to be a part of it.

A few months later, when I was invited to join the Savic team, my admiration only deepened. But admiration is one thing – riding quite another. When the opportunity came to take the C-Series for a spin, I had my reservations. It’s a heavier bike than my familiar Ninja 300, and I was nervous about controlling its weight during slow manoeuvres. Plus, this was an electric bike – a whole new world compared to my combustion-engine comfort zone. 

A new kind of power

As I swung my leg over the C-Series for the first time and brought it upright, I was overcome with anticipation. Would I be able to control this big, heavy bike? Who in the team was watching? But as soon as I twisted the throttle, I was back in control – my doubts left behind on the curb.

The bike responded instantly, launching forward with a smooth surge that made me inadvertently squeal. It wasn’t just fast; it was exhilarating. The acceleration was immediate, and the control, even with the extra weight, felt entirely natural. It was like discovering a new kind of power – one that I hadn’t known I was missing.

As for handling? My fears washed away as I navigated a tight U-turn with ease. The C-Series was nimble, taking corners with a precision that genuinely surprised me. Compared to my lighter Ninja, the C-Series felt incredibly stable, its weight becoming an asset rather than a challenge. Even the suspension impressed me, gliding over bumps like a knife through butter.

And then, there was that sound. Electric bikes might not roar like a traditional engine, but the C-Series emits a futuristic buzz that just feels so right. It’s a sound that draws attention without overwhelming – a reminder that riding can be powerful and exciting, without the noise.

When I pulled back up to the showroom, I was grinning like a Cheshire cat, just as I did 20 years ago as that excited kid on the back of my dad’s bike. My reservations were gone, buried. And just like that, I’d gone from a sceptic to ‘sold’.

Written by Nicole Fisher (Marketing Coordinator)